Link to New Blog

Here is the link to my new blog! Make sure you become a follower. Since I have 10 now, I have set my goals high and hope to have 11 on the next! So spread the word to all of your friends, or at least one. Thanks for reading, please continue!

The New Blog

New Name

Realizing that this blog is entitled June 24th, and it is now June 29th, my time has more than run out. As I have grown accustomed to writing every day, and quite enjoy it, I am sad that the end of the blog has come. Maybe, partly, that is why I have written for a few extra days. Or, maybe because Jeff wetting himself cannot go as an untold story!

I have to end this blog. The getting through a year apart has happened. We successfully made it, and I must tell you, pants-pissing and all, being together again is better than ever! Our time together is rarely boring. So I know that there will always be a good story to tell!

With that in mind, and from many requests from my readers, I have decided to begin a new blog. The purpose, I do not really know. In my mind, I just want to continue writing, I want people to be able to continue reading, and I would like for those who I don't see so often to be able to get a taste of my life (kinda like I did for Jeff for the past 10 months!).

Really, what has been holding me back from ending this beautiful blog and beginning the new one is a title. Obviously I am not all that good at titling. Example: June 24th. That's about as creative as they come! Some options I was thinking of include: Life As It Should Be; Life As It Is; C-Land By Storm; and The Adventures of J and A. I'm not really too keen on any of them. In fact, I think they all suck. So, I am open for suggestions or votes for a particular name. Either way, no need to worry (I know you have been), I will continue to write!

Thank you for following the ups and downs of our year apart! Your readership is greatly appreciated.

Too Much Valium

Today was Jeff's LASIK surgery. Nothing like a celebration of our uniting than taking a laser to the eye.

Jeff went in for surgery at about 2:30 this afternoon. At 4:00 p.m. when he had not been returned to me yet, I began to worry slightly. Was he blind? Good thing he took one good, long last look at Shea! He mentioned how he was appreciating the beautiful greens and blues of the world on our drive to the LASIK center. Then, just as I was warding off panic, I felt a tap on the head, and there he was, looking studly in the same sunglasses my 85 year old grandfather wore ten years ago before he died. I borrowed them for a second:

Anyways, it got interesting after my valium induced husband was blindly (no pun intended) walked to the car. He was chatty, making sure I knew where I was going, as if he even knew where he was. Once he sat down however, something must have changed. Changed so much he began to freak out.

"I need food now, or I'm going to pass out. It's too hot! I need the air conditioner on or I'm going to pass......" And, he passed out. I actually thought for a moment that he was dead. Slouched over in his seat, unresponsive to my voice and touch. But, I decided I would keep driving and this may be normal. Luckily, after only a minute or two, before I got too nervous, he came to.

The first words he uttered were, "Lish, I think I pissed myself. I dreamt I was peeing." I looked at his pants and did not see any remnants of pants pissing. So I told him I thought he was mistaken. Until a minute or two later. I refrained my original opinion.

"Yea, I think I smell pee."

With another check of the pants, it was clear, Jeff had indeed pissed himself. Now, don't go getting all upset at me for writing about this; for ratting my husband out in a moment of weakness. He finds it hilarious. He is a very proud 30-year old pant pisser. And me, I love him all the more for this.

We Have Arrived

I'm here, Jeff's here, Shea's here. We are all here; together!

My seven hour drive was certainly a long one. Scenery wise, not much changed. I saw the greenery of upstate New York. Wide open spaces. What did change often was the position poor Shea sat/laid in to try to get comfortable. He was unsuccessful. As my former fifth graders would say, it was a failure, an epic failure.

Needless to say, the Big Guy did not get much sleep on the way. He tossed and turned most of the time. Rightfully so, he is passed out on the floor at this very moment. 

After we arrived, we spent a very relaxed day together. The perfect day in preparation for Jeff's lasik eye surgery tomorrow! He is the guinea pig. We will be setting up my appointment tomorrow, assuming everything goes as planned! I pray it does or our lives will certainly be the blind leading the blind! 

Stank

Tomorrow is the day! This madness ends. I will wake up, take Shea out for a good romp, and then head to Cleveland. A seven hour drive, which I am sure will feel like seven years!

In knowing that Shea and I will be with Jeff tomorrow, I wanted to be sure that Shea was looking, feeling, and smelling his best. Not to mention, he was smelling about his worst. That meant that while I went about my activities of the day, big Shea got a bath. It hasn't always been this way. Jeff and I use to tag team Shea and give him a bath ourselves until we decided it was quite ridiculous. We could just pay someone and relieve ourselves of the torture!

So, as I dropped Shea off, I felt as though I was doing him a huge favor. I was getting rid of his unbelievable stink! He must have been able to smell it and probably hated himself for it. This bath was the best thing for him! And me, as I have to drive in an enclosed space for 7 hours with him tomorrow!

One other time, I can think of Shea smelling so bad. In fact, he smelled worse. Much worse. We were walking along, at night time, and I was throwing the ball to him. The ball bounced up near some bushes and as Shea went to retrieve it, something caused him to run in the opposite direction of his beloved ball. In an instant I knew why. A damned skunk!

The smell was so bad. Shea hated the awful smell just as much as I did. In fact, he was trying to run away from the smell. This led to him continually running in circles. Somehow the God awful smell was following him around. The poor boy just couldn't get away from his own stank. Thinking back to how Shea smelled this morning, I am surprised he was not trying to run away from his own stank. 

Luckily, all is well now, even without a bath in hydrogen peroxide and dish soap (we did not use tomato juice as that just covers the smell). Tomorrow, seeing Shea will not only bring happiness to Jeff's eyes, but pleasantries to his nose! And me, I can't wait to see it! 

$ for Finger Painting

I am not big on bragging. I didn't tell you that I got a lot of gifts from the end of the school year, well until now. I don't think it's really important. I think it's nice, but not important. What I do think is important is that collectively, out of all of the gifts I have gotten, I have accumulated over $200 to Dick's Sporting Goods!

This, I wanted to rub in Jeff's face. So, I did. Then I got his sob story. The whole year he's been out in Cleveland all by himself. All alone. No one to talk to, no dog to play with. Me on the other hand, had Shea, my family, my 25 youngsters to finger paint with. And somehow, by some stroke of ridiculousness, people give me gifts because they feel bad for me, and he gets  nothing.

I explained how I touch people's lives. That is important. That is why people get me things, not because they simply feel sorry for me. Plus, I'm slightly more likable. 

Anyways, we all know, ok, maybe only I know, but I will be sharing my gift cards to Dick's with Jeff. Maybe not all 200 plus dollars (that's a lot), but I will share. So stop the sob stories already and pick out some good stuff to buy! 

From Under Where?

Today I was walking along, minding my business, when I heard someone mention that they were looking for fromunda cheese. Now, I'm not a huge cheese person, but I know a lot of different types. You've got your mozzarella, provolone, swiss, cheddar, munster, and so on. But never in my 27 years of life had I heard of fromunda cheese!

Curiosity about this fromunda cheese set in. I wonder what it looks like, what it tastes like. I wonder if I'd like it. Maybe this could be MY cheese! I mean, everyone needs a cheese. A go-to cheese.

When I don't understand something, I shake my head in agreeance, and first chance I get, I google it! So, to solve the fromunda mystery I turned to my good friend: the internet! The place to go seemed to be the Urban Dictionary! Come to find out, I do not want fromunda cheese as MY cheese! No thank you! The fromunda cheese can stay under there, where it came from! 

Urban Dictionary

Anyways, I've decided my new hobby is going to be to study the Urban Dictionary. I think I could learn a lot. So could you, you Leeroy! 

Endings

I am not good with endings. Doesn't even really matter what kind of ending it is, I'm not good with them. With today being the last day of school, the ending of my time at my current school, and the fifth grade graduation ceremony I was confident this morning that I was prepared to handle this ending.

Thinking back on a few momentous endings, I have more than proof that I don't handle them well. The one ending that I handled with the least amount of strength and grace was when my college basketball career came to an end. It took up an enormous amount of time. It was the thing I was most dedicated to. Then, one day, with a loss to the University of Rochester, it all ended.

I didn't throw a fit. I didn't complain that we should have won the game but didn't. I didn't make excuses. I was just simply heart broken. So heart broken that besides spending every waking hour in the gym trying to fill the void, every should be sleeping hour, I spent sobbing to myself. Needless to say I did not handle it well. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, I couldn't do anything except wish it were a dream.

Today, my last day at school, I thought I would handle well. I certainly had enough time to adjust to the idea. The fifth grade graduation ceremony went smoothly. My speech knocked socks off and the kids were bustling with excitement as they each crossed the stage. It was a happy occasion. It is just that the occasion ended at 11:30 and then we had a luncheon and to pack our classrooms up for the remainder of the day.

The afternoon dragged on and gave me time to dwell on the fact that I would not be back. People were constantly stopping in to say goodbye and give me hugs. Awkward goodbyes are the worst and they all started to pile up on me. I cannot wait to be in Cleveland, but I do wish I could bring my school with me. I like it there.

June 24th, the title of my blog is tomorrow. Due to commitments and the such, I will not actually be moving out until Sunday, June 27th. I am looking forward to Sunday, but not necessarily all the crap I have to get done before then!

Last Day of School

Time in New York is coming to a close. It is very evident in the fact that tomorrow is the last day of school. Which for my class, fifth graders, is fifth grade graduation. A big day.

As a procrastinator, I just finished my speech about an hour ago. Not a good idea for a well below average public speaker. But, I think it is fairly good. I am planning on paying a few people in the audience so I am sure to get some laughter.

With that, the fact that I have about 30 thank you cards left to write, and that I stayed up late last night making copies of a special end of the year video, I need some sleep!

If I can figure out how to get the video posted on here, I will. It is good, but I don't think it lives up to last year's video. Jeff was not here to help with it. He always raises the quality of things.

K

With school coming to a close and my move to Cleveland only a few days away, I have been extremely busy lately. Since the beginning of May, a friend of ours, Mike, has said he was going to call me when his co-ed softball team had games so that I could play with them. They have a slight shortage of women. Each week I wait for Mike's text telling me he needs me to play, and each week I am faced with disappointment!

Until, of course, the busiest week of my life. Game, 6 o'clock tonight. Being a person who can never turn down a good game of anything, I decided I needed to fit it into my busy schedule. Ok, so there is no real schedule, just things that need to get done with deadlines. So, I put them off for the softball game with Mike and his District Attorney's office team. 

Yes, a smart team. No, not an athletic team. Oh well, all is fun, even when you lose by the ten run rule. 

When we arrived the team was on the field ready to start the first inning. We were late due to Mike's chronic tardiness. Mike's hitting and fielding prowess was well known before he even stepped foot on the field. It was laid out there nice and clear when the player-manager announced, "Mike, you are batting 10th as the DH." 

Mike and I threw the ball on the side of the field to warm up quickly. While doing so a man on the other team struck out. I laughed thinking that was rather silly. It isn't slow pitch softball, but they aren't throwing rockets at you. I said aloud, "I didn't know it was possible to strike out in these games." 

My first at bat made me eat my words! Not having seen a thrown pitch in quite some time, I let the first strike go by me. I just wanted to see it. Next pitch I swung hard and made contact. It bounced straight down off the ground, foul. Boy, I still had that full swing bunting power I did back in my high school softball days. 

I noticed the pitcher wasn't throwing it as hard as he had to the man before me. That pissed me off. Pissed me off so much that I decided I was going to line this next pitch right up the middle. The pitch game and I swung with all I had. However I forgot the first basic rule of batting, keep your eye on the ball. With that, I whiffed majorly, striking out. Doing exactly what I did not know was possible. 

Oh well, I guess I kind of made up for it later with my RBI single that extended the game one inning further because it cut the opposing team's ten run lead to nine. I was asked to come back and play next week, but sorry, I will be in Cleveland. With Jeff! 

Taking the Bridge

Happy Father's day! Happy father's day to all the fathers, grandfathers, and god-fathers. I really only know of one that actually reads my blog, but happy father's day nonetheless. With fathers day upon us, we had a little dinner up at my parents house. I say little because it was just us, my father, mother, brother, and grandma.

Days like this make me wish more than anything that Jeff was around. As my father gets my grandma going and my mother begs for him to stop, I long for Jeff to keep me sane. Plus, while my father gets her going in a negative direction, throwing out expletives and all, Jeff gets her going in a goofy direction. A direction that is always good for a laugh or two. He keeps it cheery. He has that way about him.

But, since the reality is that Jeff was not here, the cheeriness lacked at times. After throwing out expletives over her neighbors, her sisters, her doctors, and people that drive on the roads, she later claimed that she never curses using the f word. Never does she drop the f-bomb.

Well, I did what any respectful granddaughter would do and called her out on it. I let her know that I could count a number of times in recent memory that she has dropped the f-bomb. No way, she continued to deny it. It's so vulgar and classless. She is not her sister, who uses the word all the time. Right! Okay.

Her defense continued with her admitting what she says in place of the f word:
"I don't say F. Instead I say 'son of a b*tch, b@st@rd."

Much better right? According to her, yes. According to her it is a very acceptable thing to say. It is much more classy than swearing. Funny, I was pretty sure that both b*tch and b@st@rd were swear words. But who I am to question the class of my grandmother?

Now, do you see why I need Jeff around? Even better, do you see why I am so excited to head to Cleveland in a week? My grandmother's youngest sister (83 years old) often tells her to "take the bridge" when she is complaining about things. If Jeff wasn't a mere week away I would have gladly taken the bridge today!

Tapanga

I ran a race this morning. A race I have run the past two years. A race I have traditionally done well in. With that, I had high hopes. Besides the high hopes, I was putting a lot of pressure on myself because some parents and teachers from my school were running. I had to beat them; beat them all!

I did. I beat every last one of them. I had a personal best time at the race, 20:35. I placed second overall for women and first in my age group. After the race, as I spread the word of my success to Jeff and my father, I was asked some diminishing questions. Was the course really 3.1 miles? Do you think the time was accurate? Did they use timing chips? Was the course completely downhill? What crap is that? I ran hard and got a good time. Yes it was 3.1 miles, the timing was accurate, and we had to climb a pretty significant hill. And still, I finished in 20:35.

As I walked back to my car after the race, I was walking down a very busy road. I noticed a little dog roaming on and off the sidewalk, getting dangerously close to traffic. Much too close for my liking. As I scanned the street, there was not a soul in sight. Knowing what I would want someone to do if they saw Shea wondering by himself near a busy street, I went over and grabbed the dog. No collar, no tags, no anything. I asked the first person I knew if they lived in the area and recognized the dog. No go. He suggested bringing the dog to the police station which was just around the corner. I took his advice.

The police proceeded to tell me that they could be of no assistance. Wow, shocker! This particular police department is actually in the news more for committing crimes than actually preventing them. Why should they help me do something that would help anybody or anything?

I decided that I needed to bring the dog to the animal shelter. That is probably where the owners would look for this little girl. So, over to the animal shelter we went. On the way I took her picture and sent it to Jeff, his brother, Jon, and my brother, Nick. I asked if anyone wanted her before I gave her to the shelter.

Nick responded with a yes. He wanted her to come up to the house. He wanted to see her and see if she would be good for his first dog. Jon, who already has my nephew puppy, Diggy, has wanted to get Dig a playmate, preferably a female. A big Boy Meets World Fan, Jon wants to name his female dog Tapanga. So, Jon's reply was simply TAPANGA! Jeff's was quite different. He was flustered that I let a random dog in the car. However, he agrees, after a week in stray hold, if Tapanga is not claimed by her owners, we will adopt her. Someone, whether it is Nick, Jon, or Jeff and I, will take Tapanga.

Getting Close!

My time in NY is winding down and I couldn't be more excited! Jeff loved being a New Yorker. I must say, I think it's quite nice. New York seems like an important state. Currently an important state in shambles, but still, an important state!

Jeff had reservations about not being a New Yorker anymore. Me, I'm ready to get out of here. Not because I dislike the state by any means, but because I need to be with Jeff. Plus, Cleveland has certainly grown on Jeff. It is a great place to be, especially together!

I think of large steps in my life that I have taken. Most of them involve extreme excitement but some sense of loss or sadness. Graduating high school. I was glad it was over and to be moving on, but I cried like a baby at what I was losing. I wasn't going to see the people I grew up with everyday, I wasn't going to be able to play sports donning the school's green and white, I wasn't going to be able to eat Carol the Lunch Lady's delicious chocolate chip cookies anymore. All losses large enough to make me sad. Then there as going to college. What greater joy in all that lie ahead? But there was sadness in moving away from my parents, not living under their roof, not knowing anybody, and having to sh*# in a shared bathroom.

Our wedding is the only time I can think that I had pure joy stepping into a new experience, without any sense of sadness, loss, or nervousness. I whole heartedly knew it was the right thing to do and my life would be better because of it. And, it has been!

Now, moving to Cleveland, I know the same is true. However, I still feel like I should have some sense of sadness about moving away from New York. Some sadness about leaving everything I know. But, I don't. I don't because Jeff is there. So is the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, BD's Mongolian Grill, and Lebron James, for now anyways, but they only sweeten the deal!

A Rocket Up the Middle

Kickball. Kickball all day long. In celebration of the end of the year, we had a giant kickball tournament at school today for the 4th and 5th graders. This is always a great day, and on this specific day, a few of the teachers decided to play.

Me, never being one to turn down a good game of any kind, laced em up. I was excited to play. My class, being fairly athletic this year, I felt had a chance to sweep the tournament. Unlike last year when my two teams won a combined zero games. In fact, my class is so athletic this year, I felt that we would finish with the complete opposite record. I certainly didn't think they needed me, but I could just tell they wanted me to play. They had it written all over their little faces. So, I stepped into the action, as some of the other teachers did.

Since I was not originally in the batting order, I was tacked onto the end. We got through two innings before it was my turn to kick. I had spoken to some of the parents who were umpiring the games if I should really kick the ball or just kinda tap it. They told me bunting was illegal and if I was going to play, I needed to play hard. There were a number of reasons for their answer, ranging from the other teachers were kicking hard and if the kids get me out I will never hear the end of it. This was true. At bat, my former student from last year, Jay, was pitching. As the ball rolled up to me, I kicked it fairly hard. Hard enough that it was a line drive rocket off of my foot. A line drive rocket that was heading straight up the middle. A line drive rocket heading straight up the middle that bounced directly off Jay's face. Uh oh! Yes, Jay's cute little 10-year old face, hit with my rocket of a line drive. 

Jay didn't drop to the ground. He simply covered his face with is hands and started crying. I ran out to him, apologizing, basically crying harder than him. We walked inside to get an ice pack from the nurse. As we were walking, I asked Jay if he thought he would get a black eye. He said he thought his whole face would be black and blue because the ball hit him in the whole face. Oh, the poor baby. I couldn't believe this happened! 

Once the pain had subsided a bit, Jay became his humorous self. I told him if he had behaved better last year I wouldn't have had to kick the ball at his face. He agreed, laughing. I was so relieved to see him laughing! As we walked back to our game, he proceeded to tell everyone we passed that I had kicked him in the face. Little Jay sat out the rest of the current game, but resumed action the next game. By the end of the tournament he was fine, just had a little redness to his face.

Me, I am not over it yet. I still feel horrible. But, not too horrible to blame the whole thing on the parents who told me I should kick the ball hard. In the end, as weird as it sounds, I was glad the kid I did hit was a former student and not some random fifth grader. I am interested to see if Jay has any bruising tomorrow. Hopefully my kick is not that powerful!

17

I got to thinking today. Yes, thinking. I know, I don't do it often and it doesn't always lead to good things, but I was thinking nonetheless.

I am 27 years old. That hasn't really seemed all that old to me, I don't feel exceptionally old, but then I got to this thinking thing. I was 17 ten years ago. Wow! That seems so long ago. I don't look any older and I don't feel any older. I am unsure where the ten years in between being 17 and 27 went. But it smacked me right in the face today.

Next year will be ten years since I graduated high school. I'm plenty fine with that. That time when Jeff was no more than a twinkle in my eye, and he was off doing who know who what. I do know, at least, that he was playing soccer in college, since he is three years older than me.

Anyways, what it really got me thinking about was that I have, unbeknownst to me, really grown up. Things have really changed for me in the past ten years, as they should. I'd much rather hang out with one person, go ahead and guess who, than go to a party and get drunk. I'd rather rub Jeff's feet than make-out with every Tom, Dick, and Harry, although Tom ain't too bad! 

Next year, I don't see myself going to my ten-year reunion. Jeff didn't go to his. I just feel like it's too soon. I know that 115 out of the 150 people that I graduated with still bag groceries at the local 7-11. So basically, all the catching up I want to do I can do while I am checking out at the grocery store. I'd rather catch up with Jeff and what he's been doing for the past nine months! 

Happy Birthday

Where should I be tonight? Not here writing to you! I should be in Cleveland, with Jeff, at Progressive Field.

You see, Jeff is there. The Mets are playing against the Indians. This was part of my birthday gift to him. Okay, I lied. It was my whole birthday gift to him. But, I made sure they were fairly good seats. 

Not bad, right? Only it shouldn't be a drunken nutty professor sitting next to him, it should be me in my Jose Reyes shirt. Plus,  I should have thought ahead and had "Happy Birthday, Jeff" flash across the scoreboard like Jeff so desired. 

Of course, if he weren't in Cleveland we could have participated in the "Subway" series on the local radio station this morning. It was for tickets to the Mets/Yankees game this Saturday. The competition had couples race to complete a meatball sub from Subway. The catch was that the feeder had to act as the arms for the blind eater. No doubt who would play what role. And, no doubt Jeff could down that sub faster than anyone else. If he didn't, I'd just shove it down his throat faster! 

Barbie Man

In the past year I have made a few friends. In trying to keep myself busy, I have been involved in more school and extra curricular activities. Through these endeavors I have met and made new friends. Jeff, in Cleveland has made a number of friends as well. Probably more because, well, he is more likable. He has made friends with some great people. Some great people that I am excited to get to spend time with when I move out there very soon.

With all this new friend making, I have realized that everyone longs for friends. Everyone needs a friend or two. It is human nature to seek companionship. This holds true from even the strangest of sources.

I think back to where Jeff and I lived last year. It wasn't the best place to be running the streets, as I have mentioned before, but that didn't stop me. I noticed one guy in particular that I often saw walking around these streets. It didn't matter if it was winter, spring, summer, or fall, this man always wore a heavy black trench coat. I'm not easily scared or freaked out, so this did not really bother me. So what? Apparently the guy loved his trench coat. I mean, I wear flip-flops no matter what season it is. That is essentially the same thing. Isn't it? 

Well, while the trench coat didn't bother me, one other little detail about him did. The fact that he had Barbie dolls hanging around his neck. Not just one or two, but about ten of them. And they weren't nice little Barbie's that he dressed in pretty little dresses. They were missing limbs and had black writing all over them. Maybe he had a Barbie fetish, I don't know. What I do know is that it creeped me out. 

One day as Jeff and I were driving someplace, we passed him on the street. I mentioned to Jeff that I see him quite often when I am out running. Jeff, the extremely observant guy that he is, noticed the Barbie dolls hanging around this man's neck and quickly referred to them. He asked if I knew what they stood for. How would I know? It's not like I've had conversations with this man. If I was being completely honest, I'd actually have to say that I run quite a bit faster when he is within sight. So, no, I did not know what they stood for. My husband proceeded to tell me that each Barbie hanging around his neck represented a woman that he has injured. 

Boy, was I happy that I ran a little faster every time I've seen him! Of course, I believed Jeff. He even had highly dependable sources that he referenced in his accusation. Sources who would certainly know that sort of information. However, it was not information that was really given, for it was not true. My sick and twisted husband came up with that sick and twisted reference all on his own. Somewhat frightening isn't it? 

Anyways, each time I saw this guy, I still shied away. Until this one day I had Shea at the park. He was off his leash and chasing his beloved tennis ball. The man with the Barbies was walking past on the other side of the fence. Trying to get Shea's attention I called out, "Hey!" And wouldn't you know, Barbie trench coat man turned, smiled, and waved. 

No doubtably, I waved back. I couldn't help but feel sorry for the guy. I was sure that most people had the same reaction I usually did, even though it was simply running a little faster when I saw him. I couldn't help but think the guy just wanted a friend. The way he waved so quickly when he heard my "hey" was a full-blown sign this guy was not much different than anyone else, he sought human contact (not necessarily physical!). 

Starting that day, I waved to that guy every time I saw him. I never spoke another word to him, but simply waved. He always reciprocated. As Jeff and I no longer live there, I no longer see him. If I do see him again, I have no problem waving, just as long as it isn't in a dark alley!

But, then again, I wouldn't really want to see anyone there! 

Looking Ahead

Ask me where Jeff and I went on our honeymoon. Go ahead, ask. It's a very simple and easy answer. We didn't go on one.

Why? We had several reasons and we knew before we set our wedding date that a honeymoon would not be an option. Neither of us are high maintenance so it was not really a big deal. We looked to the future and knew that sometime we would go on a nice vacation. The time is coming, nearly three years after our wedding. Our trip to Brazil in August.

I have been thinking about it a lot. I have a lot to look forward to. Not only am I heading out to Cleveland for good in two weeks, restarting my life with my husband, but, we are going to Brazil. I think the timing couldn't be better. I'm glad we waiting to have our honeymoon three years after our marriage. I mean, before we were married we saw each other all the time. Now, we never see each other. We will have a lot of catching up to do.

With the anticipation of having Jeff full-time and Brazil, I have a few things I need to accomplish before then. I do not need to lose weight. However, I do not need to gain weight. So, when I win a basket full of cookies, bread, and chocolate from a running race, I need to be sensible. I need to look good in a bathing suit fairly soon. I need to be able to compete with the hot Brazilians!

Ok, I don't think I can compete with that. But I don't need extra cookies hanging around my backside. In fact, I am hoping to get a tattoo similar to this one before we head to Brazil.

Anyways, I think it is needless to say, I am very exciting for the upcoming summer months and what they promise to bring. And while being with Jeff is the most important, I am greatly looking forward to Brazil. I think Jeff is too. He seems to be a fan of the Brazilian culture.

Winnings

This morning there was a race for a local dog charity. Boy, do I love these! I mean, I am a huge fan of running races to begin with. Throw Shea in there as my running partner and it is essentially a small slice of heaven.

As the race was about to begin, we were told the priest who was supposed to send off the dogs with a blessing was MIA. Apparently, the inclement weather (60 degrees and raining) was a deterrent. I'm not sure if only Father Benjamin knew where the starting line was supposed to be, because the lady with the megaphone was somewhat unsure. She simply pointed to a place and said, "this should be good." This was how I knew Shea and I were running in an extremely well planned out race. The lady proceeded to blow in a whistle and shout out, "runner ready, GO!" I'm no rocket scientist, but I would have started off the race by saying, "ready, set," then blowing that handy-dandy whistle that was hanging around her neck.

The race is separated into two categories: humans, and the human/dog combo. Shea and I were just a little behind two other ladies with their dogs. The only competition we had to worry about. I was plotting my attack plan. I was going to stay a few strides back, like I was, and then take the lead in the last half-mile or so. I knew I could do it. I was thinking of how wonderful it would be to tell Jeff that Shea and I won the race.

The snag came about a half mile into the race. The problem is that this poorly planned race had nobody directing the runners where to go. Not even signs. So, we all ran down where we thought was the right path, only to come to the conclusion that it was not. Now, caught up with the other two women, we decided we needed to turn around. Luckily the two other women were graduates of the college the race was at. While they weren't sure of the course the unorganized race was supposed to go on, they did know a 3.1 mile route around the campus. So, we decided to that that route would be acceptable. As we ran, I saw my opportunity to pull ahead. Shea had a good stride going and my legs were feeling strong. As we pulled ahead, we came to multiple corners. The problem was, I had no idea where to go. The woman behind me kept shouting ahead telling me where to go as I took wrong turns. After feeling like a ping-pong ball, I decided that I would just run with the other ladies. As we closed in on the finish line, one dog stopped to poop, leaving Shea and I alone with the other woman. I know this is hard to believe, as I am very competitive, but I do have a heart. I decided it would be extremely cold hearted to sprint ahead of this woman who directed me the entire race and take away the first prize. So, we decided to finish together.

At the finish line, the unorganization continued as we crossed what we were not sure was the finish line. Some guy standing at the "finish line" was holding a notebook and simply wrote down our bib numbers. When we went over afterward to see what our time was, about two minutes after we finished the race, the man looked at his watch right then and there and wrote that time down. Oh well, all that matters was we got our prize baskets! See that one on the left, with the doggy treats in it? That was Shea's race winning basket!

The one on the right was what I won in the raffle. The wine bottles in the front, look closely, I also won in the raffle. Yes, it was a good day my friends. Shea was the big winner. On top of his prizes, I gave a big hug, which I'm sure he would say was his greatest prize of all!

He looks enthused doesn't he? My only regret, not playing the lottery today. I feel as though I could have won Jeff and I a few million dollars. Then we would live in neither in Albany or Cleveland. 

Dead Tired

At 6:15 sharp on week days, my alarm goes off and Shea pops up and is eager to go out for our morning run. To my astonishment, this morning my energizer puppy didn't move one bit. In fact, when I looked at him, his eyes were open, staring at nothing in particular. Not flinching as I moved.

Fear penetrated my very core as I looked at my pup and realized he was dead. Not dead as in dead tired. Dead as in his heart was not pumping and his lungs not bringing in oxygen (please forgive me for the references, we are working on the body systems right now in fifth grade). 

Shea has lain like this before. Usually, before I let panic set in, I check to see if his chest is moving, breathing. It is always a visible thing. 

I could not see the rise and fall of his chest. So, I jumped up and shook Shea. It was the only thing I could think of in my slight panic. The big guy moved and looked at me like I was nuts. He was not happy I had woken him from his slumber. I felt bad, but at the same time, was relieved my guy was not stone-cold dead like I had thought. 

I can't help but worry about my future children's lives. I know when they are babies I will be waking them up at least every hour to make sure they are alive. Apparently, I can no longer make fun of my mother for her Shea death-scare. 

When She Thought Shea was Dead

Maybe I am just paranoid. Probably. But, Jeff may also be to blame. He has brainwashed me, always telling me how Shea, at 2 and a half years old is on his last legs. 

A Visitor on the Path

I found a great dirt trail behind my school that I love to run on. There are several things that make it a great place to run. First and foremost, it's set off away from roads. I don't like to run near traffic and I don't like people looking at me when I run. It's dirt, rather than concrete, which is easier on your legs, and it makes me feel like I am running on the beach although it is a far cry from that! And lastly, because there are some good hills on that dirt path. Running up dirt hills makes for a good workout.

There is never anybody around on the dirt path. Just me and the openness. I fill the nice quietness with the music from my iphone and enjoy the run. Only once have I seen people on this path. A few teenagers, walking along, probably smoking something they weren't supposed to be smoking. I'm not sure because I turned and left as soon as I saw them. For safety reasons I guess.

Anyways, today, I saw something I was not expecting. Not one bit. I turned onto the path and saw a peacock. Yup, that same one that flew into my window a few weeks ago.

The Day the Peacock Flew Into My Window

My first instinct when I saw the giant bird was to flee. I imagined it attacking me with it's long legs and giant beak. But as soon as it heard my footsteps it bolted. I'm not sure that it could have been more scared than I, but I think it was pretty scared. 

I continued running down the path, although I was irked. I kept checking behind me and to the sides, thinking the peacock may be hiding and ready to pounce on me. It didn't do that, but apparently it can be rather aggressive. One of my students lives in a house that backs up to that very same path. His mother mentioned today that she has been having a peacock visitor both day and night. He comes right up to the window and started pecking at it. Since animal control will not take care of the problem, she is looking for a shot gun. 

I'm not quiet which I should be more scared of while running on the path, the pecking peacock or the stray bullet meant for the pecking peacock. At least in Cleveland I won't have to worry about random, wild peacocks, just stray bullets. 

Boston

Today we went on the fifth grade field trip. All aspects of this are wonderful, except I had to get up at 4:00 a.m. and did not get home until 9:00 p.m. That's a long day!

We visited the Museum of Science in the morning and headed over to the Boston Aquarium to eat lunch and spend the rest of our afternoon. With so much to do and see, the trip was very exciting and exhausting.

 

When our time at the aquarium was done, there was one last thing on the agenda. The iMax show based around prehistoric sealife. So super exciting! As we gathered outside of the iMax theater, some parents of students I had last year in fourth grade got talking. We were joking around, but saying how we would love to sneak away from the prehistoric sealife show and head over to Quincy Market for a bit. We thought nobody would really miss us. I pleaded my case as they would not get in trouble, as they were responsible for their own children. If anyone was to get in trouble it would be me. So, for me, it probably wasn't the best idea. 

Somehow, even after discussing that this was not my best option, we watched the kids pile into the iMax theater with the majority of the chaperones, and when all was quiet we headed over to Quincy Market. Here we went shopping, got a few snacks, and just browsed around. We were back in front of the iMax before the kids would be coming out. It seemed as though our little plan had gone off without a glitch. 

That was until the principal came over. He commented on how incredibly cold it was in the theater. Here is where I faltered. The other parents simply agreed with a simple yea. Not me. Being the bone-head that I am, I replied, "Really?" Totally giving away the fact that I had no idea the temperature of inside the theater. The principal immediately caught on, gave me a stern look, and then began laughing. We all know he wished he went to Quincy Market too! 

Undercover Cop

A friend of mine helped me start off the day with a good laugh. I needed it, as Jeff departed for Cleveland this morning. That always puts a little damper on my day. However, this friend, Marie we will call her, helped to take my mind off of the Jeff aspect because I can never pass up an opportunity to make fun of somebody.

Marie is currently driving around her mother-in-law's Ford Focus. Her and her husband are buying it off of her mother-in-law. She used to drive a BMW. Much her dismay, her husband took it away and stuck her with the Focus. Amidst going through the registration process, Marie had decided to take the plates off the car. Yea, I know, dumb move. Since she still had to drive it to the DMV, she placed the plates in the windows, thinking that would be just fine. That was until there was a black car with dark black tinted windows behind her.

Being as observant as she is, she decided it was most likely drug dealers behind those tinted windows. She believed it until a flashing light turned on below the rearview mirror. She pulled over, victim to the "undercover" cop. 

With the first question of, "License and registration," Marie's response was not a good one. 

"Well, that may be a problem," she said. She went on to explain how she used to drive a BMW, but her husband stuck her with this little white Ford Focus and she was not happy about it. She got talking a mile a minute, basically her whole life story, and the cop, I'm sure, regretting pulling this chic over. 

Rather than spending more time with Marie and giving her a ticket, this cop told her she needed to put her plates back on. He said when plates are in the windows, people we think she stole the car. Marie's response? None other than, "Do you really think I would steal a Ford Focus?" 

With some more questioning, I found out a bit more about this cop. When asked what town the cop was from, she was unsure because the car was unmarked. When asked if he had a uniform on, the answer was negative. He had khaki shorts and a collared shirt on, like he was going to play golf or something. When asked if he had a badge, that was questionable. She did not remember seeing one. 

With that, myself and the two other participating in this conversation explained how stupid she is. Actually, we didn't explain, we just ragged on her. This "undercover cop" was really looking for a way to get Marie to do something worthwhile in turn for not giving her a ticket. With that, the joke continued throughout the day about Marie and her "undercover cop" with no badge.

While this was done in good fun, the scary part came when I got home and checked out the local newspaper online: 

Unmarked Cop

Luckily, our little Marie got away unscathed, and so did the woman in the article. I'm glad that creep in the collared shirt is behind bars. And, while Jeff may have a lot to worry, with me being on my own and all, at least he knows I will not pull over for "undercover cops" with no badges! 

Beat It

Jeff is here. He is leaving tomorrow. We had a wonderful day together and I am not giving up part of it to write to you. Talk to you tomorrow.

Plans Down the Drain

My plan for the day was to run in a race this morning and then to do some nice things for when Jeff got back from Yale.

This morning when I woke up, it was raining and I was extremely tired. I decided that instead of getting up and running that I would go back to sleep. I did. And for two extra hours. I must have really needed that!

I went to the grocery store and got all that I wanted in order to do the nice things I wanted to do for Jeff. I planned on making sauce and some macaroni for him. It would be delicious. Okay, maybe it wouldn't be delicious, but it would be a nice gesture! I also bought these delicious fudge brownies to make for him. These, I knew would be delicious. Not much can be done to ruin fudge brownies! With this plan in action, I planned on starting everything up at about 4 o'clock, so it would be done in plenty of time. I was expecting Jeff home a little later in the evening. Just guestimating on that, I had no real time frame given from him.

So, at 2:30 when Jeff walked through the door, I was surprised. I must say, while I was disappointed I didn't have all these wonderful things ready for him, I was not disappointed in the least to see him! I told him my plans and with my cooking history, we decided to go out to dinner instead. The Cheesecake Factory has a better food repertoire than I do anyways!

Freihofer's Run for KP

At the end of the day yesterday, a co-worker, we will call her KP, approached me with an offer. She had registered for the Freihofer's Run for Women and was unable to go. Knowing that I enjoy running, she offered me her spot in return for, well, nothing really. Nothing except my running time will be published in the newspaper with her name next to it.

Although I gave no definite answer, I knew I would do it. I am a sucker for races. Especially when I (or someone else) is already registered and all I have to do is show up. The only problem I foresaw was remembering that I had to be KP.

Since the Freihofer's is a fairly big race, there is a whole check-in procedure. Luckily none of that procedure required photo identification, but it did require you to know your name. This was my biggest concern, so I was overly aware of the fact that I needed to be KP. I had to find my (KP's) name on a list and find out what my bib number would be. I read the bib number quickly and returned to the table, concentrating greatly on the fact that my name was KP. The man handing out the bibs asked me my number and I said that I was KP. He thought that was wonderful, then asked for my number again. I gave it to him. 3133. Problem, 3133 was gone. Crap, with all my focus on remembering that I was KP, I didn't really pay enough attention to what my number was. Once I figured it out (3113), I explained to the man how I, KP, had dyslexia.

Anyways, the race was fine and dandy. A fast course with some real elite runners leading the way. The winner finished in 15 minutes and some change. Being concerned that I would win KP's age group, I slowed up just a bit. I knew if I was called up as the winner of the 35-39 age group with my 15 year old face I would be accused of fraud, and rightfully so. Not to worry, KP still got a personal record of a time. She is very excited to see how she did in the paper tomorrow.

After the race, we were rewarded with Friehofer's cookies. Very fitting.

Even more fitting, I thought anyways, was the fact that there was a big Price Chopper truck. KP is somewhat of a local celebrity as she stars in a few Price Chopper commercials. I was unaware of the seriousness of her level of celebrity until I got a good look at that Price Chopper truck. While KP was unable to run, she was actually right there at the race!

Maybe if I got a truck with Jeff's larger than life picture on it, I wouldn't miss seeing his smiling face as much. Well, at least I get to see him again tomorrow! Who needs a truck when you go the real thing?