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.