Vacation

The drive down > the drive home. In fact, the square root of the drive down > the drive home times infinity squared. This is for one reason – going down, we drove overnight and we came home in the day. Night driving is essential to my sanity because people sleep at night – the kids & mr b all go to sleep and I have the whole night to drive and listen to whatever I want and no one is fighting or whining or asking me how much longer or being a general jackass or needing to pee or driving like a complete asshole who thinks everyone else is an asshole. Plus on the way home, we got stuck in hellacious traffic due to a motor home fire. It was insane.

The cabin was amazing. Since we drove overnight, we got there well before our check-in time. We decided to do a drive-by to check the cabin out and then head out to sightsee for the day. Only there was no such thing as “drive-by” for this place. It was on an unpaved, private road that wound up into the mountain. From the outside, it looked like a tiny place, but in actuality, it was 3 floors and slept 10 easily. The hot tub was my favorite early morning thing to do, and sitting on the deck looking at the view was so relaxing.

The view from the main deck:

One of the cool things about the place was the wildlife – we saw deer and flying squirrels and bald eagles (no bears, surprisingly, given my aforementioned deliciousness). There were the strangest looking moths I have ever seen – some that looked exactly like a fallen leaf, some that were beautiful, and some that were just plain weird. And they were all HUGE:

Not cool at all? The spiders. And by “spiders,” I mean SPIDERS! I seriously wanted to take some photos to freak out Twitter (like someone who shall remain nameless coughburghbabycough) but I was too terrified to get anywhere near them. And I think I felt like there would be some bad horror movie juju involved in photographing them. They were that evil. I am not kidding when I say that they were giant, man-eating, horrible monsters who had obviously heard about my deliciousness from the bears.

It seems we picked a good week to get out of the burgh since apparently it was a million degrees here. It was hot down there, but being in the mountains meant it was much cooler, especially in the mornings and evenings.

We were only a few minutes from Nantahala Gorge and the Nantahala Outdoor Center, which was a fantastic place – places to eat, good beer, shop, trails and hot hippie guys – perfect! We spent a lot of time there during the week. The only bad experience I had there was…are you ready for this?

I got CARDED. No, really – carded. Now, I know you are thinking, but Gina, that’s a compliment, no?

No – it’s not. And I’ll tell you why: 1) I haven’t even been in my late twenties for more than a decade, so please spare me. It might have been a compliment if I didn’t know that I looked every bit of my 41 years, but since I do, it was just WTF?? 2) Someone told me later that they have to card everyone, regardless of how old they look (because they have a very precarious license in an otherwise dry county), and that would make me feel better about things, except that the girl doing the carding didn‘t card anyone else in the group (all male…hmmm), and 3) If it were at all possible that she really believed I was under 21, it would have made me feel good a little while, but I’ll take a beer buzz any day.

Nantahala Outdoor Center:

There were so many things to do in the area– rafting, canoeing, kayaking, tubing. Surprisingly, of all those activities, the one I managed to injure myself on was the calm, serene tube-float down the Little Tennessee River. That would be because instead of sitting in the tube like I should have been, I got into the tube and let my lags dangle in the water. And when we suddenly went from a depth of I-Can’t-Touch to Holy-Crap-Rocks-Hurt!, my knees, shins and ankles suffered for it. I actually have a tiny little bone chip moving around in my knee now. That’s not fatal, is it?

Just as surprising as the DangerTubing is the fact that I went whitewater rafting and stayed in the raft the entire time. I thought for sure I would end up going in. And what was worrying me the most about that? Not the danger of drowning, or busting open my head on the racks. No, I was worried that of I went in, I would be mortified that my raft-mates would have to haul my fat ass back in the raft. I really think if I had gone in, I would have been all, “Oh, don’t worry about me – just go one ahead, I’ll hang out here.” This is the same reason I didn’t jump in the water and swim with the boy during one of the calm areas.

The boy was the only one not afraid to swim there (other than me), because everyone was crying the while time about how cold the water was. Now don’t get me wrong, it WAS cold – about 50 – 55 degrees. But somehow it felt good to me. Maybe because it was so hot that day. Or because it wasn’t too much colder than swimming in the Yough, which is pretty damned cold, too. But I decided to tell myself that doing the Polar Bear Plunge has turned me into a badass cold water rock star. Now that is cold water.

When we were getting suited up for our rafting trip, I put on a PFT (life vest, but I like saying PFT like I’m down with the lingo), and I could barely breathe what with the boob-squeezing. Four male guides checked me and said it fit perfectly, until a similarly-boobed female guide came over, rolled her eyes at the men and helped me adjust. Then we got our training and I did my very best not to strangle the kid behind me who made the training take 10 minutes longer with his inane questions (Um…what…um…about that…um…water position if …you know…um…you…uh…go over the falls? Do you have to do a back flip?), and finally we were off. We all got on the bus and the guides got on last. One guide sat next to me on the bus wearing nothing but a speedo. I was hoping we didn’t get him as our guide, because all I could think about was that if we flipped over, I was probably going to get balls on me in the process. Luckily we didn’t – we got an awesome guide who was informative and fun and kindly kept his genitals hidden from view.

Rafting:

We also went gem-mining, which the kids loved. And The Girl made me proud by sharing her big gems with the other kids. And the boy made me proud by using his own money to buy another bucket for them all to share:

One day we went to Dollywod. Dollywood is a great park – small, pretty, but still fun. But despite the fun, it was slightly less pleasant than the last few times we’ve been there. For one thing, it was HOT. I mean – while the mountains stay cooler, somehow it’s not really the case at Dollywood. And then we went in a large group and I really, really hate going to amusement parks with a group (too much waiting and whining and dicking around). And The Girl got crabby a few times about some imaginary crap. And we were with folks who kept failing to wait for the group before getting in line and then expecting us to cut and catch up, which I will absolutely NEVER do (it’s a HUGE pet peeve of mine when people do that).

They have some good rides there, though. The Girl loved the Raging Rapids-type ride. The first time we rode it, I got splashed. The second time we rode it – just before leaving the park – I got SOAKED:

But she hated the Mountain Slidewinder (which is an AWESOME waterslide where you sit in a foam “log” and slide down the mountain), although she was ready to go on it again a short time later:

Also, mr b spent 50 cents on a game and won the girl a guitar (not a little toy piece of crap, either, but a real, working guitar. And then this happened:

And there’s nothing else to say after that.

.

Did Good

As I mentioned in my last post, I was fortunate enough to have an opportunity to participate in Do Good Day on Wednesday. And as awesome as I expected it would be, it turned out to be even better.

I’m a little late in writing this, so by now, you’ve probably already read what she or she or she or she or she or she had to say about it, so it’s pretty much all been said. But hey – that never stopped me before, so damn it, I will talk about it too.

We met up at the Carnegie Science Center, to find that 77 Kids was already there with a cart filled with cool toys and goodies and – best of all on a sweltering day – freeze pops. The kids heading to the Science Center were very excited to see it loaded down with Silly Bandz, along with the other assorted treats. We couldn’t wait to set up and get started spreading some of our own good.

When we were planning the day (77 kids awesomely gave us the means, but left it up to us what we wanted to do), we decided that we didn’t just want to surprise people with a gift or treat, we wanted to do something that would be appreciated by the recipient, but also something that would encourage them to pay it forward and do something nice for someone else.

What we ended up with was colorful backpacks filled with school supplies and other fun stuff. But the best part was that each backpack contained a colorful little envelope with the words “Your Mission” on the outside. Inside the envelope was a mission for the child to do – a good deed that they could do for someone else. Some were given a bag of Silly Bandz and told to make a new friend and share them, others were given an addressed, stamped envelope to send a picture or letter to a nursing home or to a soldier or veteran. I really hope that the kids were inspired to complete their missions.

It was an amazing, fun day. The kids were absolutely thrilled to get something. The parents were a little wary. And don’t get me wrong – I get it. It’s not often that you get something for free. A lot of them probably suspected they’d end up having to pay for something.

In addition to the money 77 Kids gave us to buy our supplies, they also provided each blogger with a box of goodies to give out – stickers, trinkets, candy, coupons and – get this – 77 dollar bills. We clipped each dollar to a coupon, note card and a little paper telling them how they could do a good deed with the dollar (or for free). And I swear there were more than 77 dollars in each of those boxes. We clipped and folded and sorted until, we boiled ourselves in the sun, but they never seemed to end. Ginny, in particular, was feeling the curse of the multiplying dollars and coupons.

But once we were done, we set out to spread some more good. We walked along the river walkway and gave dollar packets to everyone we saw. Or rather we tried to give them to everyone we saw. Unfortunately, we live in an cynical, suspicious society where instead of seeing someone giving you free money as a good thing, it is seen as OMG WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME CRAZY PEOPLE ARRGGH GET AWAY KEEP YOUR MONEY BACK OFF GET AWAY FROM MY CHILDREN HELP!!!!!

I am totally not kidding. We had reaction ranging from the mildly suspicious ignore-and-walk-faster maneuver, to the misogynistic “I don’t take money from women!” to the jackass who needs to prove something “Give it to someone who needs it – not me!” to the downright hostile group of moms that told me that under no circumstances was I to hand out anything to any of the children in their general area. Meanwhile the kids were all WOOOOOOOOO!!!!! YAAAAAAYYYY!!!!!! MORE!!!!

The kids were the best.

But instead of worrying about the cynical society, I am going to try to do my best to keep spreading kindness. If we all do it, maybe someday the cynical society might become less cynical and more like those kids. Everyone now: WOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

All in all, it was a great day spent with some really amazing, kind, giving, funny women and some of their awesome kids. The girl always loves spending time with the actual Burgh Baby, and an added bonus this time around was Ginny's son, who she deemed "cuuuuute" (she tried to charm him with her burping skills - she's a delicate flower, that one). Despite the heat and the cynicism, we still had a really nice time.

Thanks to 77 Kids and The Motherhood for putting it all together.

Fine print: I am being compensated for participating in Do Good Day, but they were in no way involved in the content of this post. I am entirely serious when I say that 77 Kids is a great company who cares about the community. And if you visit their store, you'll see how much thought they have put into creating a great shopping experience for moms shopping with kids (also known as "Hell: Living").

Do Good

While we were on vacation last week, we decided to spend the day at Dollywood. It’s a nice little park and we hoped to have a good time. But getting ready and getting out of the cabin can be a pain with a when there’s a bunch of people, and we got a late start, putting me in a bit of a mood. Then we got to the park and it was eleventy-seven-hundred degrees out, which didn’t help anyone’s disposition. Then the girl got crabby over fries (as you do), then it got hotter. A couple of us went on a raft ride and left all of our stuff with the non-riders, so it wouldn’t get wet. And then the non-riders lost their ever-loving minds and took off, leaving us with no phones, cameras, money, or any idea how to find them. By this time, I was in a bad, BAD mood.

We decided to hit the “county fair” section of the park where a lot of kid-friendly rides are located while my nephew set off in the blazing heat to find everyone. I spent the next hour or so alternating between trying to enjoy the rides with the girl and muttering terrible things under my breath about every person in the entire park (I get crazy when it’s that hot).

Finally, my nephew came back with our gear and we set of to meet up with everyone. I was still a bit crabby and hot and miserable, but I tried to get past it. But then we hit another “let’s stop and stand around looking stupid and decide what to do next” moment (I hate amusement parks with a crowd of people – too much waiting around) and I thought I would lose my mind – we were all crabby and hot and tired. And then suddenly, a little girl about six years old walked up to us, stopped right in front of us and seemed to be sizing us up.

Then she pulled out a huge stack of tissue paper butterflies and went around the group passing them out, “Let’s see…you need pink, and you need green, and I think you should have blue...", until every one of us was holding a butterfly. I’m not sure where she got them, or why she felt the need to pass them out, but something about that little girl simply being kind was enough to turn my mood around.

Good deeds come in all kinds of packages. We help a neighbor carry groceries in the house, we donate books to a classroom in need, we walk to raise money for a charity. And sometimes, we simply hand out a small token to an unsuspecting passerby and it can really turn their day around.

Tomorrow, I am participating in Do Good Day, sponsored by 77 Kids and The Motherhood. These amazing folks have come up with a plan to Do Good across the country. Seven bloggers in eleven cities (7 x11 = 77, of course) will be hitting the streets to put smiles on as many faces as we can.

Our plan is to pass out some goodies and fun stuff to folks passing by. But that wasn’t enough for us – we set it up so as we surprise them with something nice, they can in turn surprise someone else. And hopefully the Doing Good will be catchy and those folks will pass it on. It doesn’t take much to make someone’s day. Sometimes a smile or a kind word can turn a person’s day completely around. It’s hard to believe, but it’s true.

But what may be surprising is you don’t have to be the person receiving the good deed for it to make a difference. I think that being the person who is giving the kindness is even more rewarding. Getting a treat is great, for sure. But giving one (or a whole bunch) is amazing. And I can’t wait to be amazed.

[Disclosure – bloggers will be compensated for their participation in Do Good Day, but that in no way diminishes the awesomeness of 77 Kids or The Motherhood, who put this all together]

The Fish Whisperer

I was (finally) out shopping for my March for Maddie giveaway prize this weekend, looking – obviously – for some weird stuff to throw in there. And I came upon a tiny plastic aquarium with a couple of those “grow” fish in them – the ones that expand in water. And I decided I needed to have one myself.

You see – I am not very good at taking care of pets. No – that’s not exactly true – I am fine with dogs and cats, because they can remind me that they exist and are hungry/thirsty/bored/need to pee/are dicks. But quiet, contained animals? Doomed. That’s the same reason I kill plants. They can’t nudge me with their cold noses, or bark by the door, or stare at my food and “boof,” or knock their empty dish off the platform, shove it across the room, jam it into my instep and “merl merl merl merl merl merl merl merl merl merl merl merl merl merl merl merl merl merl merl merl! Merl! Merl! Merl! Merl! Merl! Merl! Merl! Merl! Merl! Merl! MERL! MERL! MERL! MERL! MERL! MERL!!” at me until I get off my ass and either feed or kill them.

The fact that I still have living hermit crabs should tell you how little care they need. Because if they required anything more than minimal effort, they’d be hot-glued into little vignettes by now.

So anyway, I got this cute, tiny little aquarium that I can set on my desk and play God with the fake fish. You add water – they grow – you forget all about them and they dry up and shrink. Then you notice them one day and think, “GASP! My fish are dried up!” Then you add more water and they puff back up again and you don’t even have to feel guilty about it! I don’t know if you realize this, but YOU CANNOT DO THAT WITH REAL FISH!

Don’t get me wrong - I love aquariums. I can spend hours just looking at them. Speaking of which, I once did just that at burghbaby’s house. Her husband was nice enough to talk to me for a long time all about the fish and critters. Which – while we’re on the topic, Ms. burghbaby often claims that her husband doesn’t talk, but I certainly haven’t experienced that. It seems that she is either full of shit, or Mr. burghbaby and I are dorks of feather. Truthfully, either is possible.

Anyway, I wasn’t always bad at keeping fish, etc alive. Back when I was a kid (somewhere around 6 or 7), my aunts took me to a carnival. One of the games they had was the one where you toss ping pong balls into tiny fishbowls filled with colored water and goldfish – if the ball stays in, the fish is yours.

My aunt tried to talk me out of playing, since it was a waste of money – no one ever wins at that game – plus, if you do – the fish die in a couple of days, anyway – I mean – they are swimming in tiny bowls of colored water, right? Wrong. I won me a fish and I named him Fred (I went through a stage where everything was named Fred for a while). We took it home (to my aunt/grandma’s house) and within a couple of days, we had a whole aquarium set up for this one fish. And despite what everyone but me expected, this fish did NOT die in a couple of days. In fact, he not only lived, he thrived. Within a week or so, we saw him start to increase in size. I was worried about him being lonely, so we bought him a few friends. But soon, the friends disappeared and Fred got bigger. And bigger. And BIGGER.

He soon started looking less like a tiny goldfish and more like a huge gold river fish. He was bigger than any goldfish you’ve ever seen. His tail was the size of an adult hand when “unfurled.” More than once, when my grandfather was cleaning the tank, he put Fred in another container while he scrubbed the tank in the kitchen. When he came back, he found that Fred had leaped from the tank and was lying on the floor, dry and seemingly dead. But Gramps, who loved animals, grabbed Fred and plunged him back into the water. Then he started rubbing him gently – almost doing compressions. And damned if that fish didn’t revive! And it happened TWICE! Gramps thought the first time was a fluke, but after the second, he started throwing a towel over the container.

Fred lived a good, LONG life. I got him when I was about 6 and when he died? I was in college. College! Gramps was magic like that. He didn’t need a fake fish to dry up & reanimate – he could do it for real.

Random

I work from home on Tuesdays and Fridays this summer (as opposed to Fridays only) and the good part of it I that it is one less day I have to worry about getting the kids picked up since I don’t get home in time. And being able to sleep in (until 6:30 – I never thought I’d see the day when 6:30 was sleeping in). But the bad part is that working from home on Tuesday makes me think it’s Friday. Which is So! Totally! Awesome! for a brief, fleeting moment when I’m all, “Yay! Friday!!), but then I remember that it’s only stupid Tuesday and the horror and disappointment of it all sends me reeling and crashing to the floor in fits and tears of agony. Or maybe I just say, Dammit! It’s only Tuesday?? Oh, MAN!

******************************************************

I had the pleasure of being on the basement last night while an entire herd of wildebeests and the entire cast of every production of 42nd Street in history were upstairs. And by an entire herd of wildebeests and the entire cast of every production of 42nd Street in history, I mean mr b, the dog and both cats (the kids were in bed). And let me just tell you – I have a whole new appreciation of Trolls (the bridge kind, not the internet kind). Because if that Troll that met up with the Billy Goats Gruff had to listen to that all the time, I can’t blame him for being kind of a douche. If the damned goats weren’t always clomping around overhead all day, he would have been cool – maybe asked them in for a lime-aid or something. BUT NO!

******************************************************

Something bad happened on the way down to the beach and I don’t want to talk about it. But I have to, so I can move on. Because something ran out in front of us & I couldn’t swerve. And there was a thunk. The thunk of something you don’t want getting thunked. I am very sad about this.

******************************************************

At the beach, the girl wandered into her aunts’ hotel room and picked up my (very petite) aunt’s bra and said, “Whoa – this is a tiny person’s bra. With tiny boobs.”

******************************************************

This time of year gets me in the gut a little. I miss being with my kids in the summer. I want to be able to romp and frolic with them for 3 months. I really wish I could afford to be off all summer long. I considered being a teacher for a while, but I was attracted merely to the schedule. Because can you imagine me as a teacher. ME?

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…WOOOHEEEEEEEEEHAHAHAHAHAHA…HAHAHAHAHAHA
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHOOHooHooHoohooheeheeheehehehe..heh.

ahem

I mean, really. burghbaby alone would have a damned contest pickem charity thing going on to guess which would happen and when: Crying, Losing My Shit, Calling a Kid an Asshole, Walking Out, Throwing Something at the Principal – on a – Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday.

Maybe I should go back and do it – for the kids.

******************************************************

I’m getting excited about vacation! In less than 2 weeks, I’ll be looking at this:

Vacation

Things I learned on vacation:

1. There are few places that highlight the fact that Kids Are Evil as effectively as a cramped hotel room.

2. Car trips will henceforth require the wearing of compression stockings. Every time I drive on a long trip, my right knee hurts and my lower leg gets a little tight and swell-y. The other option would be to let mr b drive more but here’s the thing about that – mr b is Captain Sleepy. I’d have 16 nervous breakdowns per hour if I let him drive. So compression stockings it is. This saddens me, because it makes me feel old and broken and maybe I should just go out and get myself a babushka and some depends to go with my support hose.

3. My kids will fight about ANYTHING. Dear God, the stupid fights. I swear to you, the biggest fight of the week was over a turkey sandwich. Followed closely by a fight about cheese fry sharing etiquette. I was also lucky enough to witness fights over sand, beds, sand IN beds, whose hacky sack was whose, which beach ball was better, which beach ball Mr. Pants (our 16 month old cousin who stayed with us along with his mom – my cousin Lala) liked better, whose faceplant was funnier, ice cream, who messed up the Snoopy tattoo, television, Don’t Touch Me, who farted, who moved my shoes, and HE’S TOUCHING ME! Good times.

4. Diabetics should not walk on hot sand without shoes. Ten minutes after my dad arrived, he walked on the hot sand in his bare feet and ended up with 2nd degree burns on the bottoms of his feet. It was awful – all the skin came off the bottom of his feet and sand got in them. Several trips to a doctor, a couple prescriptions, six days, a whole lot of not walking, and a shit-ton of bandages later and he’s still hurting. It sucks.

5. I really need to replace my broken camera lens before we head to the mountains next month.

6. Finney of the beach photo patrol really, REALLY needs to find another career. Of the 10 or so photos he took, exactly ALL OF THEM were blurry. And I don’t mean slightly out of focus, I mean, so blurry that you can’t tell who is in them. Normally I wouldn’t care but due to my lack of photo-taking, I was hoping for something cute.

7. I need to start way ahead of time on Halloween, since the girl – upon getting Old-Time photos taken – has decided she wants to be a fancy flapper.

8. Old-Time Photo props will be used like every other item that reaches the hands of a child – as a weapon against their sibling. Fake drinks will be “dumped” on each other’s heads. Fake guns will be used to pretend to shoot each other. And everything else will be used to generally maim.

9. On one hand, the beach can make you feel really bad about yourself. On the other hand, the beach can make you feel way better about yourself. It all depends who is on the next blanket.

Despite the hectic and sometimes stressful days and the fact that I never got to meet up with the lovely Amy (because of all the hectic), I still had a wonderful time. And I am so very happy to that we are going away again next month.

I’m planning on the next trip being more relaxing. I’m not sure why, since the kids will once again be there. Plus mr b. Plus a gang of in-laws. So I imagine it will be more of the same – lots of fun, peppered with lots of potential stabification (that’s in the ICD-9, by the way). And since I know it’s coming, I decided to make a list of things that I plan to accomplish while in NC. If I can manage these, I will consider the trip a success, despite the stress:

1. Not killing anyone. No really – did you not hear the part about the kids and the husband and the in-laws?

2. Not dying. Because we have a cabin on a mountain. Which has a deck out into the mountainous abyss. And I will be drinking heavily. And most likely being driven slowly insane by the kids. Not a good combination.

3. Mountain geocaching! I’m very excited to try out our new hobby in an incredibly beautiful setting. I need to stock up on some burgh-related items for trading.

4. Not getting killed/eaten/mauled by a bear. Why on earth would I be worried about this? Well, see my previous item : 1) Geocaching takes place in the woods, 2) Bears live in the woods, 3) I am delicious. To combat the chances of getting killed/eaten/mauled, I’ll be wearing my bells, an anti-bear helmet (which doesn’t exist in reality but in my imagination involves tin foil, hot glue and pebbles. And sometimes – disturbingly – raw meat) and a t-shirt says “I taste like shit.”

5. I also plan on making mr b build a shelter to prove his manly worth. And because of the aforementioned bears, I’ve decided that the shelter must have a security system, indoor plumbing and a chik-fil-a (I know – they aren’t open on Sunday, but he can hunt/gather me something once a week, I think). Aw, who am I kidding? I’d be dead. He’s city boy. Years ago, we rented a cabin out in the woods for a weekend, and on a walk, I picked and ate some wild blueberries. His reaction was to nearly rush me to the hospital because “OMG, those berries might be poison!” I explained that they weren’t poison berries, but delicious blueberries and I was then subjected to 45 minutes of “But how do you know?? So maybe we’ll forget about the wilderness thing and I’ll just take him along as a bear diversionary tactic.

First Name Basis

The girl has been absolutely DYING to call her teacher by her first name for most of the school year. Of course I wouldn’t let her and we started off the year with no problem referring to her as Mrs. Smith (not her real name). But then shortly into the school year, I got to know Mrs. Smith socially and we became friends. So suddenly, Mrs. Smith became Shellie to me. And even though I only referred to her by Mrs. Smith in front of the girl, she soon learned her first name, since she would occasionally hear me call her as Shellie in person, or mention to my husband that I was going to a party at Shellie’s house, etc. And from then on, it was her mission.

She never called her Shellie in school, but one day she told her she knew what her first name was. Shellie told her it was OK to know her name (and she told them what it was), but that they had to call her Mrs. Smith. She continued to obey in school, but she’d come home now and then and make a sly comment about how Shellie wanted me to call her or Shellie said hi. My response was always “Mrs. Smith!”

But she persisted:

Mrs. Smith said she could call her Shellie sometimes.

No.

Mrs. Smith said she could call her Shellie outside of school.

No.

Mrs. Smith said she could call her Shellie when school was over.

No

Finally she let up with it and I thought we were done. HAHAHA.

The girl went on to have a wonderful year and excel in school. She won an award for outstanding academic achievement. And we all know that while smart is good, it can also be trouble.

A mutual friend had a School’s Out party on the last day of school and Mrs. Smith was there. She told me that the last week of school, they were talking about letter sounds and she asked for examples of words that have a short e sound in the middle that she could write on the board. Of course my little genius raised her hand immediately. When Mrs. Smith asked her if she knew one she gave her best shit-eating grin and said, “I know a good one!”

You see where this is going don’t you?

Her word?

Shellie

My Favorite Overheard Conversation of the Weekend

In Pat Catan's Crafts, I overheard a young woman (We'll call her Big Fat Liar) talking to her two older coworkers:



Big Fat Liar: My friend was going through a rough time, so I made her something to cheer her up.

Coworker1: That's nice - what did you make her?

BFL: Well, she's always down on herself, thinking she's not good enough, so I bought a mirror and painted it really pretty, then I stenciled along the bottom, "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me."

Coworkers1&2: AWWWWWW...that is SO SWEET!

BFL: Thanks! I thought it was cute.

Coworker 1: You are so clever! Where did you come up with that?

BFL: I don't know - I've always been really creative. Stuff like that just comes to me.



Oh, really now, Big Fat Liar?