Daryl Reaugh, you're my hero.

Here's me and Razor a few years back. He's dressed as Herb Brooks.
If you don't know who Herb Brooks is, you're a Communist.

I'm watching my first Stars game of the season. I know, I know, but the hockey season is long, and I have been distracted by pigskin. I see I haven't missed much, as the Stars have just now made it to 500. Great, yet another Dallas team to disappoint. Story of my life.

You know who never disappoints? The Stars' color commentator, Daryl "Razor" Reaugh. Razor's that 6'4" hunk of Canadian hilariousness you see in the picture above. He's a retired NHL goaltender, the peanut butter to Ralph Strangis' jelly, a regular on the little Ticket, and the reason I just spit coffee all over my keyboard.

Razor: [about Marty Turco] "You play against the Sharks and you're a net minder... and if you're leaning toward the diminutive side, you better be on your toes like a dwarf at a urinal to be able to see that puck through traffic... and he has been tonight."

Strangis: "Well there's a metaphor we don't hear every night."

[pause]

Strangis: "I guess it's a simile."

Very good, Ralph. What Razor said was in fact a simile. It was also genius.

LARCENY!

My Top 5 Hated Teams (with the burning intensity of 10,000 suns)

I think it's best for everyone involved (me, my neighbors, my apartment complex, the bottle of Skyy vodka in my right hand) if I blogged right now instead of watch the rest of the Cowboy game. There's 8:11 left in the 3rd quarter and the Cowboys are losing 3 - 41. My Cowboys, once again, are breaking my heart in December. But at least this year they won't be losing in the playoffs... because THEY WON'T BE GOING TO THE PLAYOFFS!

Here are a few teams that have enjoyed time in the playoffs and/or bowls... teams that I hate and have always hated. Always.

5. The St. Louis Cardinals

I know what you're thinking: "Why the Cards? They're National League, and you're no Cubs fan. You love your Texas Rangers."
True and good points, all. But see, I was stuck in the middle of central Europe in 2001 with two of the biggest Cardinal fans on the planet, and it reminded me that after a rivalry, fans are the #1 reason to hate a team. I love my friends, but I hate the Cardinals.

4. The San Antonio Spurs
I'm a Mavs fan - have been since I was 2, even through the very, very dismal years- so it's natural that I hate the Spurs. But lately, say in the past decade, I have really been hating the Spurs... and it has EVERYTHING to do with "Crybaby of the Century" Tim Duncan. Remember the Alamo; hate the Spurs.

3. The Texas A&M Aggies

Half my high school graduating class went to A&M. My grandfather went to A&M. I thought for a brief moment in 7th grade that I might want to go to A&M because I liked garnets, and garnets are kinda maroon. Then I snapped out of it. Hullabaloo, Caneck, Caneck... I love my grandfather; I hate the Aggies.

2. The Detroit Red Wings
Once upon a time I had a Sergei Fedorov poster up in my room because I thought he was hot, then I turned myself into to the Feds for treason. There's a reason this team wears red: they're bleeding pinko commies. Every.last.one.of.them. I love America, therefore I hate the Red Wings.

1. The Philadelphia Eagles

I don't even know where to begin. They have a fight song. What is this, junior high? I hate the Eagles more than the Redskins, and that is saying A LOT coming from a Cowboy fan, even if it's not saying much after tonight's game. I hated Buddy Ryan and I hate Andy Reid. I hate Eagles fans, Philadelphia, The Fresh Prince, Rocky Balboa, Benjamin Franklin, the Liberty Bell, and most of all... the Eagles!

Time to turn my attention to the Stars, the Mavs, and my Baylor Bears BBall.

I hit the motherload.

Before I begin I should state that, no, I did not win the lottery. No, I did not get a ton of cash for Christmas. I did pick up a freelance design job that is going to help out a lot, but that's not what this is about. This is about the fact that I am sick and tired of trying to squeeze myself into cheaply-made clothing I should have given away years ago. I am sick and tired of wearing the same pants three times in one week, and I am sick and tired of knowing I could look better if I just made the effort.

So I made the effort.

No, I didn't cut back on the banana splits. I cut a B-line to Banana Republic.

I love BReps. We go way back. Not too far back, mind you. My parents couldn't (or more like, wouldn't) afford to shop there. I remember being in junior high at Lindsey White's house and being soooo jealous when she opened her closet to show us her new dress from BANANA REPUBLIC. I also remember thinking the dress was ugly, but I kept that to myself.

Remember these fugly T-shirts?

Such is not the case today. I love almost everything Banana Republic puts out, season after season. I'd say 75% of my closet is BR. I have a BR credit card. Surprisingly, only 5% of my debt is from BR.

Well... it may be more like 10% after today, because today I found paradise. Today I found the Banana Republic Factory Store in Allen. Today the entire store was 50% off, and I had a 15% coupon over that. Today... I hit the motherload.

I won't mention my total price. If you want to know so desperately you can do the math. But I will mention my total bounty.

10 tops
3 sweaters
2 camisoles
1 tank
3 pairs of trousers
3 pairs of jeans
2 pairs of khakis
4 pairs of tights
2 pair of leather moccasins
1 pair of sunglasses

Total savings? $741.14

I mean, that's a straight-out Bluebonnets to Peaches deal right there! Stacy and Clinton, eat your hearts out.

It's Christmas?

Really? Because it's 60°F outside.
I didn't decorate or put up lights this year; my parents didn't either. As a matter of fact, here is the extent to how far they decorated:

That's right- apparently instead of a Christmas tree, this year we are placing the gifts under the TiVo/DVD player. À propos. If you look closely you can see my dad's gift to my mom... wrapped in tin foil. And the frog wearing a silly Santa hat in the background? Doesn't count. That's been out all year.

The day started nicely enough. I woke up in my old room (but new bed, new furniture... whole lotta creepy) to a barrage of holiday texts. Don't get me wrong- I like them; I sent one out myself. But if you asked me on a date and then never bothered to call and finalize and therefore I haven't heard from you in a month, why don't you go ahead and TAKE ME OFF YOUR GENERIC "MERRY CHRISTMAS" TEXT LIST. Thanks.

After responding to a few choice texts, I went into the kitchen to tend to the mashed potatoes and managed to break a toe. So that was pleasant. Brother arrived... Mom and Dad arrived with my stocking:

I want to know how Santa got that much cold and flu medicine into his sleigh without being accused of running a meth lab. But I appreciate it.

We opened gifts. Please for you to enjoy by brother's ninja-like gift-wrapping skills:

I'll save you the suspense. It's a CD.

We ate lunch, and that should have done it. I mean, didn't it at least smell like Christmas in the Nelson home with the ham and pies baking? I WOULDN'T KNOW. I can't smell (or taste) a d*mn thing. So thanks for making my favorite meal, Mom. It looked like you guys enjoyed it. And the two pounds of Twizzlers you got me, Santa? I appreciate it, but: rubber. My favorite candy tastes likes tires to me right now.

Alas... no matter how lame the day is, I can always count on my favorite Christmas tradition. Every year for 6 years running (and longer before that), after we have had as much family fun as we can stand, my best friends and I descend upon the Bennigan's in Bedford, drinking our Irish coffees and dodging former classmates. We laugh about the year and create a cheer for the next. What is this year's cheer you ask?

2009: Bennigan's filed for Chapter 7 bankruptcy in June of 2008.

Oh, that doesn't rhyme?

It's like a train wreck. (updated)

I don't watch "reality" TV. I DON'T. The only reality show I watch is Intervention, and if you knew more about me and my family, you'd understand that Intervention is less about reality and more about therapy. But I digress.

Again, I don't watch reality TV... but right now I am watching a The Real Housewives of Orange County marathon. Here's why.

It all started in 2005 with Big Brother 6. A friend from art school was a housemate. I had to watch, right?

Meet Jennifer:

Then there was The Apprentice 5. A friend from college was eventually fired. I had to watch, right?

Meet Roxanne:

Then there was The Bachelor: Paris. A sorority sister was a bachelorette. I had to watch, right?

Meet Cortney:

Now a girl I knew in college is the new housewife in Orange County. I have to watch, right?

Meet Gretchen:

Of course, the answer to all these questions is, "No." I don't have to watch. But it's like a train wreck...

My Movie Top 5

I'm going to watch a lot of movies over the holidays. I can already tell. One weekend down and I am already through my TiVo and watching live TV for the first time in months. I don't care much for live TV; I can't fast forward through the commercials. Or the Cowboy loss.

Tonight I watched The Jacket for the second time, and it got me thinking. Not about the movie- about Adrien Brody. He's hot. Like, crazy hot. And I know many of you are going to disagree that he deserves a spot, but he is totally in my Movie Top 5.

So while I'm waiting for my NyQuil to kick in, here's my list. These are CURRENT actors, mind you. Not old-school Cary Grant, and not characters. Actors.

5. Ryan Phillipe
Come on... look at that face. LOOK at that face.

4. Matt Damon
I have liked Matt Damon ever since he was that weasel in School Ties who turned on Brendan Fraser for being Jewish. (Speaking of, remember when Brendan Fraser was hot? Yeah, me neither.)

3. Joaquin Phoenix
It pains me to put Joaquin in the middle of the pack, but since he's "retired" and all...
After Space Camp JP didn't really peak my interest until Gladiator where he played that weasel Commodus. (What's my attraction to the antagonists about?)

2. Adrien Brody
I've heard people say he looks like an anteater. I don't care. The guy can act. Did you see The Pianist? Plus there's something about his eyes... or eyebrows. He always looks so introspective. And attractive.

1. Ewan McGregor
He's the only man I've seen other than Sean Connery who can pull off a kilt. He has a William Wallace accent, is Obi-Wan, and oh yeah... also sang for 2 hours straight in Moulin Rogue!
Done, done, and done!

I have a new favorite student.

And I am his new favorite teacher, apparently. You know how I can tell? Because today he said:

"You are a dumb woman and a drunk."

I know what you're thinking.  How could this kid have known?!?

For the purposes of this blog let's call the student "Austin", because I'm pretty sure he has Autism or Aspergers. Actually, I don't know what special needs Austin has because his teacher didn't leave behind any specific instructions about him. I didn't expect a medical diagnosis or anything, but a, "Dear Ms. Nelson- Austin likes to punch the computer screen," would have been nice.

Today was high school Computer Design and Webmastering- two subjects I felt pretty secure in teaching because of that little graphic design degree I got a few years back. Too bad the Webmastering class was working on Flash^® the whole time- the ONE Adobe^® product I am not familiar with... and when I say not familiar, I mean NEVER TOUCHED. Stupid animation.

Thankfully Austin was in the last Computer Design class of the day, and they only had a test over Photoshop^® and then a Wordle^® to create. I could handle that. Or so I thought.

The red flag went up in my head about Austin during his second loudly-obnoxious belch to mark the beginning of the period. The thing is, another student was being even more disruptive, so I focused on him. Once I had the class's attention, a female student quietly explained that the disruptive student had special needs. Funny... that student was an angel for the rest of the class. Meanwhile, Austin is the one picking his nose while asking me a question, only to turn back around and use his mouse.

"Note to self:  DO NOT use Austin's computer today."

Well, too late, because guess what? Austin is now having trouble printing. None of his classmates are able to help him, so it's Ms. Nelson to the rescue. Where the hell is the hand sanitizer when you need it?!?

I tried all the tricks in the book, but I couldn't get Austin's computer to print. No one else was having problems- I had a few other students print from their computers to test- so I deemed the issue with the computer and not the printer. In the meantime, Austin is getting more and more agitated. He is pacing between the computer and the printer, hitting both, and calling them (yes, the inanimate objects) names. My favorite was when he said:

"This printer smokes marijuana!"

Touché.

Finally I come to the conclusion that I will just have to leave his teacher a note. Austin did his work, and he did it correctly, but he just wasn't able to get it to print. (By the way, if this kid wants to be a graphic designer he will find this a running theme in his professional life.)

After the pot-smoking printer fiasco was all settled, I told Austin to please work on something else while I graded their tests- just no music, no videos, no games, and no e-mail. The kids know this. Plus, most sites that could do a lot of harm are blocked anyway.

We all know where this is going. I had to tell Austin to close out of game sites about... oh, I don't know... 750 times over the course of the next half-hour. Each time I would explain that "no games" is a rule, and each time he would respond with:

"I hate rules.  I'm gonna make up my own rules!"

or:

"I've got a rule for you.  It's... It's... yeah."

or my favorite:

"Rules are stupid and your mom is a rule."

Eventually I got the tests graded and let the students come up one at a time to see their scores. Austin failed, but had I been grading on a curve he would've been sitting pretty on top of that bell. Still, try explaining that to a kid with Autism. Or Aspergers. Or Ihatemsnelson disease. Instead of an understanding nod in response from Austin, I got this:

"YOU ONLY GIVE ME BAD GRADES BECAUSE YOU THINK I'M GAY!"

And then he kicked my desk for good measure.

I don't think you're gay, Austin.  I think you are my new favorite student.

Some people.

I was standing in line just now buying ink...

See, I thought it would be a good idea to design and print my own Christmas cards this year. I thought I would be saving money.
Not so much... do you know how expensive ink is?

Anyway, I'm standing in line and there are two women ahead of me. One woman is checking out, while the other is waiting with nothing in her hand. From my experience in retail (The Limited... what-what!) that is never a good sign. If someone is waiting in line to check out but isn't holding anything, s/he is more-than-likely not checking out at all. S/he's complaining.

Well, sure enough, it turns out said woman just bought a cart-load of supplies but didn't make it to her car with her batteries. She has her receipt and would like a refund. The cashier who checked her out remembers her, and remembers putting the batteries in a bag... so the manager suggests that instead of a refund, the woman go pick out 2 more sets of batteries to replace the ones lost. She does, and everything is taken care of. As she walks out the door, the cashier apologizes, but the woman doesn't even acknowledge her. Rude.

I'm next and I buy my $2,000 worth of ink (exaggeration?) and walk out the door, only to see the battery lady discover her batteries in the cart she just put away. They had been in the cart all along. So she picks up the batteries and goes back into the store, right? WRONG!

That battery b**** takes both sets and gets in her car and leaves! And we're not talking about a mini-pack of AAA's here. I mean two full sets of 40 AA's. That's more expensive than ink!

I sit in may car in amazement for a second, then decide I can't let this happen. I mean, sure, the lady's gone. She got away with it. But that manager thinks his cashier made a mistake, and that's just not right.

So Carolyn gets out of her car and waits in line with nothing in her hand. Another cashier offers to help me, and I say that I am waiting for the manager (another thing cashiers never want to hear.) When it's my turn, I quietly explain what I just saw. He was floored that the woman wouldn't walk 10 feet into the store just to return the batteries, but I made sure he knew I wasn't there about that...

Some people.

Hugh Laurie makes my sports pants go crazy.

Ok, maybe not my sports pants- that would have been Cristiano Ronaldo vs. Tottenham last night. Who cares that the match ended in stalemate? I got to see #7 run around for 90 mins. Done.

Anyway, point is that last night House hosted the last episode of SNL for 2008 (and forever for Amy Poehler), and he was genius. NBC.com is retarded for not posting Bronx Beat... that skit pretty much sums up how I feel about anyone from England.

"Lemme tell you somethin', alright? You wanna know somethin'? That accent will get you everywhere."

Merry Christmas, girls.

Everybody cut, everybody cut!

What should you do if you discover your college pet was put to sleep two weeks ago? Apparently the answer is to grab a bottle of wine and cut Footloose!

I would like to thank HBO Family's 3am scheduling, Kenny Loggins, and Kevin Bacon for getting me through this difficult time.

PE is good for me.

Today I subbed for a coach in Freshman PE (awesometown) and got a little carried away. No, we didn't play dodgeball, but I did manage to unintentionally volley a soccer ball as hard as I could right into a kid's face.

I'm not kidding. For a second I thought he was unconscious.

No worries, though- the kid picked himself up and asked me to try to fix his tangled glasses while he went back to playing goalie, blind. He should have known better- I scored on him twice as much after that.

Here are the highlights:

In case you hadn't heard...

I had a really great time at Art Conspiracy 4 this weekend. Here's what it looked like in case you couldn't make it:


Art Conspiracy 4 - Deconstructed from Cindy Chaffin on Vimeo.

Too Close for Comfort

Barack Obama waits to speak in Aberdeen, South Dakota May 31, 2008 (Reuters)

This is in no way a political blog. I talk art and life and cats and kids. But after my painting this weekend, seeing this picture pop up on Yahoo! News jolted me a bit. I mean, I get it. But, man...

The Process

inspiration

prep

hour one

hour two

completed work - Homage to St. Nicholas

next night - Art Conspiracy 4 - grid 43

the auctions begin

sold to the highest bidder

If you want to walk on water...

Last Christmas my friend Amy gave me a book by John Ortberg called If You Want to Walk on Water, You've Got to Get Out of the Boat. In the book, Ortberg uses Peter as an example of how, unless we completely trust Jesus and follow His example, we will continually hold ourselves back from the life He wants for us. If you want to accomplish amazing things, you have to take that initial step... you've got to get out of the boat.

Matthew 14:22-33 (New International Version)
Jesus Walks on the Water
22Immediately Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead of him to the other side, while he dismissed the crowd. 23After he had dismissed them, he went up on a mountainside by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone, 24but the boat was already a considerable distance from land, buffeted by the waves because the wind was against it.
25During the fourth watch of the night Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake. 26When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. "It's a ghost," they said, and cried out in fear.
27But Jesus immediately said to them: "Take courage! It is I. Don't be afraid."
28"Lord, if it's you," Peter replied, "tell me to come to you on the water."
29"Come," he said.
Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. 30But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, "Lord, save me!"
31Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. "You of little faith," he said, "why did you doubt?"
32And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. 33Then those who were in the boat worshiped him, saying, "Truly you are the Son of God."

Well, this weekend I am happy to say that I got out of the boat THREE times, and I am still grinning ear to ear. Complete and total joy. :)

Friday night I attended a party at a local gallery where I knew no one. I used to be friends with the owner, but that was years ago. History. Awkwardness. Santa mayhem... and SUCH a great time! Joy.

Saturday night was Art Conspiracy IV, and the first time I had my work on display since college. I was a bundle of nerves as THE MAN Rob McCollum auctioned off my painting... and it sold!!! (Pictures to come.) Word on the street is that AC4 raised $28,000+ for Preservation LINK, Inc. Joy!

Finally, this morning my church held a Christmas concert. Our Choir and Praise Team/Band have been working diligently for months on this labor of love... and I had a 5 min solo. The program was different than anything else we have done before and a huge success. JOY!

To quote Mase Masalosalo, "God is good! All the time!" "All the time! God is good!"

Will you be getting out of your boat this week? Come on in... the water's fine.

First show in... forever.

And it's not really a show. It's a show/charity auction/concert/party.

It's Art Conspiracy, and here's how all this works:

A couple of months ago AC4 sent out an APB stating they were accepting 150 artists this year -first come, first served- and I emailed back in time. That was it. No portfolio, no nothing. My cat could be an artist in AC4. As a matter of fact, if my painting doesn't work out tonight, I might claim he painted it.

This afternoon after golf (that's right- I'm a golf coach today) I pick up my charcoal/paints/brushes from home, change into many layers of sweats, and head down to an unheated warehouse in Dallas.

I check in, get my badge and a 2' x 2' piece of primed plywood, and start painting. I have about 3 hours to create something that will auction for at least $20... because $20 is not only where the bidding starts, it's also the amount I'm going to need at least one person to yell out tomorrow night or I will jump off a bridge.

Have I mentioned that a few of my friends are also participating? What happens when their paintings sell for $200, but when the bidding starts on mine, the record scratches and all you hear is crickets? I'll tell you what happens. Read the last six words from the previous paragraph.

Back to the countdown. Tonight after I have completed my masterpiece (of s?), I turn it over to AC4 to be installed, then pop over to a pre-AC4 party. What happens after that isn't any of your business.

Tomorrow night at 6:30 all 150 artists, along with the volunteers, bands, and gen pub converge on the warehouse and start the "show." It goes a little like this, or so I'm told:

Drink
Auction
Drink
Band
Can't feel my toes...
Drink
Auction
Drink
Band
Can't toes my feel...
Final Auction

And yes maam, I will be sure to post my creation. I'm actually pretty excited about it.

Canterbury Portrait

Canterbury Portrait. 2007. acrylic on canvas. (Commissioned)

No, this is not my Art Conspiracy IV painting. If I could do this on plywood in two hours then I'd be the one teaching Umlauf.

Instead, this is the portrait I painted for a friend and mentioned in a post a few months ago.

Well, I'm posting the photo now because I have finally come to terms with this painting. If you don't paint, then maybe you don't understand how it could take a year to be able to share your work, but it has.

Feedback is ok. Really... it's ok.

Note to Self (Art Conspiracy IV)

"When filling out information, remember that you have TWO email addresses."

I could kick myself. Again.

This Saturday I will have a painting up for auction at Art Conspiracy IV in Dallas, benefiting Preservation LINK, Inc. The whole reason I signed up (other than charity) was so I could get re-introduced to the Dallas art community. Other than the auction, there is a pretty little printed program that will contain the 150+ artists' information... except mine. See, I forgot which email I sent the Art Con peeps, so I have been missing all the deadlines. :(

But listen, just because I'm not in the program doesn't mean I'm not participating. I am. So please some out and support the kids. Tickets are just $10 at the door.

More info here.

Hope to see you there!

www.designelson.com

My website is officially updated in time for Art Conspiracy IV this weekend.

New bio.
New résumé.
New artwork.

Check it out, then mark you calendar for Saturday night. I think I'd have a seizure of happiness if anyone I knew showed up before my painting was auctioned off...

David: Jonathan's BFF

First of all, I've heard of artistic license, but come on...

Robert Papp © CPH

Today's 5th/6th grade Sunday School lesson was David and Jonathan, and we had some pretty interesting discussions about friendship.

To explain loyalty, I offered this tidbit:

"I am loyal to the Dallas Cowboys. I watch every game and always cheer for Tony Romo and Jason Witten. Who are you loyal to?"

"I'm loyal to the Aggies..."

"She only likes the Aggies because our cousin went to Aggie Station."

Geenious.

Next we read I Samuel 20:16 and discuss it's implications. (So Jonathan made a covenant with the house of David, saying, "May the LORD call David's enemies to account.")

"What if David hated pumpkin pie? Would Jonathan have to hate pumpkin pie?"

Alright. We're getting somewhere.

Finally near the end of the lesson I ask how Jesus demonstrated the same qualities of trust, loyalty, and sacrifice as Jonathan.

"Jesus was loyal to God by dying on the cross for our sins..."

"Have you seen Madagascar 2?"

I tried.

Marbled Eggs

Marbled eggs have been a holiday tradition in my family for as long as I can remember. They're basically just salted boiled eggs, but if you have never seen one they can really throw you off. Once I brought these to a party and one guy thought they were chocolate. Yeah... his first bite was a quite a shock.

I don't really know how marbled eggs became such a staple in my British/German household. All the research I have done labels them as a Chinese dish. But I could care less... done properly, they're greatness.

The recipe is quite simple.

Hard-boil the eggs.
Remove from pan.
Crack the egg shells, but DO NOT peel.
Return to pan.
Add soy sauce, salt, and tea bags.
Simmer for 1/2 hour.
Peel and refrigerate.
Serve cold.

Here's the result:













Yummers!

My mom's the bomb.

About a week ago my mom called to say that we would be having beans for Thanksgiving. Now I know times are tight... but, beans?

Beans.

Don't get me wrong. My mom makes a mean pot of beans. They cook all day with garlic and ham hock, then we eat them with fresh onion (well, my dad and me anyway) and cornbread with so much sugar it's more like corncake. But still. It's Thanksgiving, and Carolyn wants turkey and dressing. And leftovers.

Well I give thanks today because Momma Nelson came to her senses and cooked a FEAST for the four of us. Turkey, dressing, gravy, broccoli with hollandaise sauce, marbled eggs (more on that later), candied yams, and two pies: pumpkin (of course) and pecan (southern staple). Plus, my father searched far-and-wide for fresh cranberries (Sam's) and made his famous relish... it's good enough to eat alone and sends that canned jelly crap running. It was a good day.

See, my grandparents are no longer living, and most of our extended family is out of state. The few who are still in the area are, unfortunately, not available to us for one reason or another. My immediate family is rarely all together, and when we are, we rarely get along. But we did yesterday. Props to you mom.

And to prove that things never change:

3801 songs, 41.1 days, 10.75 GB

This morning I decided to sync my iPod, and that's always a battle.

Here's a word problem for you kiddos:

Ms. Nelson has an out-of-date iPod that only holds 6 GB of music. Currently, Ms. Nelson has a collection of 3801 songs, totalling 10.75 GB, on her computer. After filling her iPod, how many GBs of music will remain? (Hint: Classical isn't going to make it.)

You think that would make it on TAKS?

Anyway, while choosing which Fleetwood Mac album was going to get the cut (Tusk?) I realized iTunes' automated genres are really messed up. Since when is Willy Nelson considered "Pop"? And why is half my collection labeled "Rock"? Neil Diamond and The Rolling Stones in the same broad category?

OCD says this is going to take longer than planned.

I'm too old for this.

It pains me to write that sentence. Literally... does anyone have Aleve?

What is it about the Holidays that turns 30 year-old Carolyn into 19 year-old Carolyn? (Uh, I mean 21 year-old Carolyn... yeah, 21...)

The Holidays should be about reflection, giving thanks, worship, and fellowship. So how come EVERY YEAR I turn them into a month-long toga party? And it's not just me. Oh no- we ALL do this (again, you know who you are.)

After my long week, I was really looking forward to a friend's birthday party on Friday. The plan was to stay for a few hours - tops - since I had a PPR exam review the next morning at 8:30. (I got your professional responsibilities right.here.) So when did I get home? 2 am. Brilliant.

Saturday night rolls around, and who are we kidding? Like I'm gonna miss the TT/OU game. But instead of watching it on my couch and getting to bed at a decent hour, I thought a bar on Greenville would be better suited... and then a bar on Gaston... and then the parking lot. what.the.hell? No worries, I was in bed by 4 am, just in time to catch 2 hours sleep before church at 7:30.

At this point I can't feel my legs... but I manage to sing with both the choir and the praise team. Yes, that's both services. That's a total of 4.5 hours at church. Sorry for nodding off during the sermon, Pastor Ken; I assure you it's nothing personal.

And it's not like I could just crash when I got home. Not when the Cowboys played (won) at noon.

Thankfully, plans were changed last night and I was able to stay home and recuperate. So what if I stayed up blogging until 2? I was at home. And there may have been Ben Gay and a heating pad involved, too. Don't judge.

The point of all this is... there was a time when I wouldn't blink at the weekend I just had. Now it's more like whiplash.

NO KITTY! BAD KITTY!

My cats are driving me up the wall. Yep, I'm blogging about my cats. I'm the crazy cat lady blogger. Get over it.

For those of you who don't know me or who have never been to my apartment because your cat allergy is so severe you would scratch your eyes out (you know who you are), let me introduce you to CJ and Razzle. They get along really well. Razzle is the obese tabby and the bane of my existence. CJ is the crippled orange tabby and the bane of my existence.

If you think I am exaggerating, let me give you some examples of how my life may be different than some of yours solely because I own cats.

I have to tape down the switch to my garbage disposal.
That's right. Last year I was sitting in my living room when I was startled by the sound of my garbage disposal going off. It took me a second to figure out what the sound was, then another couple of seconds to realize how it came on. It's a good thing three seconds wasn't long enough to burn up the motor or for Idiot Orange to lose a tail.

I can't leave anything on any surface in my apartment lower than 6 feet. Period.
I mean, I could, but doing so puts said object in risk of being pushed off and broken, laid on, scratched, licked, eaten... or all of the above. I've lost term papers and irreplaceable Slovak crystal this way, along with a myriad of meals and drinks.

I can't stay in bed past 7:00 am. Ever.
I have a feline alarm clock. This might come as a shock to you, but Razzle doesn't miss a meal. She gets fed twice a day, usually around 7 am and 7 pm. If it's too much later than 7 am and Razzle doesn't have food in her bowl, she will not stop meowing until I get up. And I understand- she's a lot like her momma in that sense. The difference is, given the option, most times momma would prefer to sleep off that hangover rather than eat breakfast.

Basically, I live with two toddlers that will never go up.

Even with these the annoyances, I obviously love my kitties. I would probably rescue every stray cat I saw if I could. But I've had a total of 7 hours sleep this weekend (more on that later), and if I have to tell them to stop fighting one more time...

Tales of a Third Grade Subbing

Chapter 1. Give me Specials or give me death.
There is a magical time (hopefully in the morning around 10:30 am, if you're lucky) that all the students leave the classroom and travel to the wonderful land of "Specials"... a land of P.E. and/or Art and/or Music. During this time (usually 45 mins) the classroom teacher has "quiet time" to herself where she can relax and rejuvenate (or frantically pull together lesson plans, tidy up the room, grab coffee, and pee.) I would like to credit Specials as the only reason I did not have a straight-out, flopping-on-the-floor freak-out this week.

Chapter 2. Pickle
During lunch on Wednesday I was sitting at the "teacher table" when a student approached the teacher next to me.

"Mrs. G, Sarah is saying a word that I don't like over and over again. I've asked her to stop, but she keeps on saying it."
"What's the word? It's ok, honey, you can tell me."
"Pickle."

You should have seen the look on Mrs. G's face. It was a mix of, "Really?!?" and "You have to be s****ing me." Her response?

"Go sit down."

That student got off easy. Had it been me, the conversation would have gone like this:

"Ms. Nelson, Sarah is saying a word that I don't like over and over again. I've asked her to stop, but she keeps on saying it."
"What's the word? It's ok, honey, you can tell me."
"Pickle."
"I can't believe she said that! Go sit pickle. I'll be over there in a pickle to take care of it. Thank you for being pickle. Pickle."

Chapter 3. "It tasted like fish."
During the same lunch I took off the bun to my sandwich to add ketchup, lettuce, tomato, and PICKLE. I thought the breading looked kind of odd, plus the chicken looked a little pink... but I dismissed it because let's be honest- cafeteria meat never looks like real meat.
Well, during recess I started to feel sick. Like, mouth-watering, I'm-about-to-vomit sick. I asked the other teacher if she noticed anything wrong with the chicken at lunch. She agreed about the breading and called her daughter, who also ate the sandwich, over.

"Honey, do you remember anything odd about the chicken sandwich at lunch today?"
"Yeah... I thought it tasted like fish."
[laughing] "Oh, is that why you didn't eat it all?"

Because salmonella is hilarious.

Chapter 4. Natural Gas
Do I even have to explain the 3rd grade mind with this one? In Science I hear:

"Natural gas."
[farting sound]
"There's nothing natural about that."

Chapter 5. "YOU'RE renewable!"
By far my favorite cut-down of the week, if not year. Same Science class. We've made it past "natural gas" and are now discussing bauxite. For those of you who have slept since 3rd grade Science (me), bauxite is an aluminum ore and considered a non-renewable resource. Well, since aluminum can be recycled, categorizing bauxite confused some students... so much that they decided to argue about it.

"Is bauxite renewable, non-renewable, or inexhaustible?"
"Renewable. You can recycle aluminum cans."
"But the book says it can't renew itself in a lifetime..."
"You can recycle it! It's RENEWABLE!"
"YOU'RE renewable!".

I waited to hear, "Your mom's renewable," but alas; it never came.

Epilogue
I don't know how you do it, K-4 teachers. Really, I don't. Two days in a 3rd grade classroom and I'm ready for an entire week off. Good thing that's exactly what's happening next week, huh? :)

I see.

Literally. I can see now.

No, I didn't get Lasik. My vision isn't that bad... yet. Instead I got contacts. Yes, I know, welcome to the 1990's. But look - I never wore glasses as a kid - and only lately has my eyesight worsened enough that I've needed to wear glasses most of the time. Still, glasses are a pain. Since I don't need them to read I'm constantly taking them off and misplacing them. Or leaving them out during a party to be stepped on...

I thought for a brief moment about getting colored contacts. I even brought it up to a friend, and he suggested blue. Why is that? Can't a girl have blonde hair and brown eyes these days? I mean, Britney does. (When she has hair.)

Instead I decided to go with clear contacts and the brown-turned-hazel eyes God gave me. Why? It's kinda for the same reason I'll pass on rhinoplasty. Would people only find me attractive because of my new nose? Blue eyes? Let's play Photoshop and find out. (About the eyes anyway.)



I don't know who that second girl is, but she sure isn't me.

WHOOPs!

That's all.

I'm retarded.

Here's why.
I'm the type of person who finds a route somewhere and sticks with that route, no matter if there is a shorter way. I stay with the route I know.

For example, I have been going to the same Walgreens for over a year now. It's about 5-10 mins from my apartment, Northwest. Last week I decided I wanted Taco Bell for some reason (triple steak, triple vomit), so I hopped under the Tollway and headed East. And there, 2 seconds from my apartment, was a CVS. A much nicer CVS than the Walgreens I go to, by the way. I kicked myself.

Today I kick again. Hard.

Every couple of months I get my little Addison Accolade newsletter from the Recreation department. I read about all the classes offered to seniors and kids and adults, and all the amenities of the Addison Athletic Club. "It's just $10," I think, but still, I don't really have an extra $10 a month. I mean, not unless I want to give up one drink in Uptown, and we all know that isn't going to happen.

Well, I got my first solid paycheck on Friday and decided it was time to join a club again. I had been putting this off not only because of lack of funds, but also because up to this point working out revolved around distance walking in preparation for the 3-Day. Any other cross-training or weight-lifting was done in my tiny apartment gym.

No longer. I just joined the Addison Athletic Club. We're talking:
• Indoor and outdoor swimming pools
• Four racquetball courts
• Cybex weight circuit, Hammer Strength weight circuit, dumbbells
• Treadmills, electronic bikes, elliptical trainers
• Gymnasium, indoor track, aerobics studio, multipurpose room
• Whirlpool spa, sauna and steam rooms
• Outdoor trails
• Tennis court

All for the low, low price of $10. That's right, $10 TOTAL, not per month. My membership only runs out when I move out of Addison.

I like how it only took me living in Addison for a year and a half to figure this out.

action: reactions

I am not usually one to jump at new features offered to Google Bloggers (as opposed to those livejournal losers or wordpress winners), but today is the exception. Introducing reactions. Now after reading my latest crazed thought, you can give feedback with just one click. Like it? Check word. Confused? Check what. Want to get on my very last nerve and become dead to me? Check weak.

Word.

The 3-Day

This past weekend my college roomate and I walked in the Breast Cancer 3-Day, a 60 mile journey benefitting Susan G. Komen for the Cure and the National Philanthropic Trust Breast Cancer Fund. I've been meaning to post about it for days... but I haven't had time to sit down and really reflect on the experience until now. And now that I have reflected I don't have the words. Maybe the slideshow above will do the weekend justice. Or maybe...

"Don't you write it down, remember this in your head. Don't take a picture, remember this in your heart. Don't leave a message, talk to me face to face... talk to me face to face."

3-Day Honor Roll

Being that it is the eve eve of the Dallas/Fort Worth Breast Cancer 3-Day, I would like to use this post to thank every last one of my GENEROUS donors. But first, as if I were taking home a VMA, I'd like to thank God. Without Him none of this would have been possible, including the outrageous forecast. Really? 77ºF and not a cloud in the sky this weekend? Scoreboard!

44 friends/family members donated a total of $2,247 towards my 3-Day Walk fund. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

ROLL CALL:
Becca B.
Lacy B.
Niraj B.
The Bravos
Tiffany B.
The Bushwars
Carrie C.
The Chapmans
Wendy C.
Holly D.
The Duncans
The Ellises
Kristin F.

Katie G.

Tara G.
The Grummers
Heather H.
Abby H.
The Hlads
The Holleys
The Hollises
The Johnses
The Kings
The Madisons

Sean M.
Sarah M.
Jon M.
Amy M.
The Morrises
Kate N.
The Pareckis
Rachel P.
Roxana P.
John Q.
Angela Q.
Danielle R.
The Reaveses
Rachel R.
The Rosars
Paige S.
The Stouffs
Elisa T.
Jim T.
Laura T.

If you have not donated there is still time. Please consider giving to Kim Caraway, my tentmate and partner in crime, who has not yet made her goal. Click HERE to donate to Kim.

Again, thank you!

Slovakia's Take

From my former headmistress:

Mila Karolinka,
This is a landmark in American history. An American dream is again on the stage. Our medias of all kinds TVs, radios, newspapers, were covering your presidential campaign whole year, of course very intesively last couple of weeks. Today this event is everywhere. It is the most important news, of course. There are many analyses, predictions, et cetera. Generally, European countries have been looking with favour on Obama. Change, the key message of Obama's campaign is coming not only with a new President but with financial crisis and economic depression. We can expect very interesting process. World is really a small village.
Helena

Ἀχιλλεύς

He may have been the hottest and fastest Greek in the Trojan war, but he got his butt kicked by an arrow to his heel. I feel your pain, Achilles.

Here we are, a week from the Dallas/Fort Worth Breast Cancer 3-Day, and I have developed achilles tendinitis. Splendid.

I've logged over 90 miles during my training, raised the required $2200, borrowed an air mattress and sleeping bag, spent gobs of money on pink activewear that I will most likely never wear again, made plans for my tentmate to fly in from DC... and I can barely walk from my living room to the kitchen for more ice.

How does one develop achilles tendinitis, you ask? Well, let me just preface this by saying in the 14 years I played soccer daily, I never developed tendinitis. It took just 2 months of teaching in heels and then training in sneakers to do me in. Man, am I 30.

So for this week it's R.I.C.E. - rest, isolation, compression, elevation. Considering I teach Mon-Wed, I'll get right on that...

Your prayers for my healing would be appreciated. Pun intended, winners.

What I difference a day makes.

After my overly-trying day on Thursday, I thought about cancelling my job on Friday. I'm so grateful I didn't, because the Lord showed me just what was out there... and reminded me why He's helped me choose teaching as my life's career. (Or one of them, anyway.)

Friday was Microbiology. A friend of mine responded to this by asking, "What do you know about Microbiology?" I wanted to slap him. HUGE pet peeve of mine. People assume just because I was an art major, art is all I know. Thanks for that.

Anyway, my first period was conference, so I took that time to get acquainted with Frisco's brand-new Career and Technical Education Center. An incredible facility. If you're into architecture, you might want to check this out. If not, please enjoy some tour pics below.

I'm so glad I got back on that horse, even if I'm not a gymnast.