Really, I have the most glamourous job...

So a lot has happened this week that convinces me that I have the most glamorous job there is. It has been a rough week because the weather has been a bit crazy. We had some major flooding on Monday, causing the power to go out for the last three hours of school on Monday. Between the weather and the power outages, I had two days in a row where I had no recess--the kids were inside (and crazy!) for recess those two days. So needless to say, on Wednesday, I was worn out and very envious of my recess time. So I'm sitting at my desk during recess and I have three students in my room reading silently, when Jack--my "starving" student pops his head in the door and says, "Miss Sharp, I need you out here..." with urgency in his voice. I'm so sick of dealing with stuff that I lazily ask him what he needs... he then tells me that he needs to go to the office right now! When I ask why, he says (from across the room so that every student sitting in the classroom can hear) "Miguel made me laugh to hard and I had an accident..." he walks into the classroom with his legs spread far apart...
Keep in mind that I teach 6th grade...? And that this kid is a pretty big 6th grader.
So, to add to the glamour. The next day, I dismiss my students first thing to go to Music class after unpacking their backpacks. When they are gone, I walk over by the backpacks and this is what I see sitting on the table next to the backpacks:




Now, does anyone else have a more glamorous job than me? I challenge you...

Quandry

So a funny thing happened today. As you know, I teach 6th grade, and if you remember anything about sixth grade it is an incredibly akward age where kids are all over the place maturity-wise. I have kids who act like they're in college...to kids who still cry at the drop of a hat because somebody stole his favorite new highlighter. I also have kids who are still wearing toddler clothes to kids that are almost as tall as me!

Anyway, so on MWF, I open my classroom during lunch for tutoring. The kids can bring their lunches into my room and eat before they start working on homework. About halfway through lunch, one of my boys comes up to me and asks if he can go to the lunch room to get lunch. I could have sworn that he had just been eating, so I asked him if he'd already had a lunch. He (with NO volume control) said, loud enough that everyone in the room stopped to listen, "my dad thinks I'm too fat and that I need to go on a diet, so he only packed me a salad for lunch and I'm STARVING."

So do I honor his father's wishes and make him eat what's in his lunch only, or do I let the boy eat??

I let him eat and he came back with a gigantic plate of food. I guess that I'm guilty of contributing to adolescent obesity. It's just that he was STARVING!

Welcome in Seattle!

Doesn't that just sound like something you would read on engrish.com? Since I am now living in a city where half of the population speaks engrish, I should try to start speaking like them. Mean, I know, but I know that the three people who actually read my blog probably won't be offended and might possibly laugh if it is really late at night and there is some sort of beverage involved--like sprite.?

So I realize what a lousy blogger I am. I read other people's blogs so much that I feel so inadequate at posting my own that I make excuses until I've forgotten about it. It usually takes a comment like, "Cydney, where are you?" for me to post again. I promise I'll try to be better. So here's my update. I am now living in the beautiful city of Seattle.


Though I don't actually live anywhere near the space needle, nor have I seen it since I've been here. This is more of what I see:

which is a much better view, in my opinion...

So I moved to Woodinville, WA--I'm living with my brother and teaching school which is funny because when I moved (ran) from Salt Lake I swore that I would not teach again and here I am--teaching sixth grade, the very grade that made me cry a whole lot last year. But you know what? I put the whole job thing in the Lord's hand and wow, he made it work! I love my school, I love my teaching team, and I love my class! Things are really really good. So good that most of the time I forget that I have absolutely no social life and no immediate prospects for one! I think that it helps that I have family and most importantly, three adorable nephews and one gorgeous niece to keep me smiling. In fact, I just made this halloween costume for my nephew, Will.


(and on that note, I'm going to put a little plug in for my website that you should check out when I actually get something posted on it. I'll be selling my costumes and bags, etc. there so please tell your friends...in a few weeks when there is something on it!! Mine is www.silverpenny.etsy.com and my sister's is www.ollieolliebaby.etsy.com. She sells cute baby stuff for those who are looking. She only has one thing on it right now, but I know she's working on a lot more. ) I'm shameless, sorry.

I...quit!

Yes, I actually did it to day. I didn't do it quite that way. I graciously let my principal know that I will not be returning next year. What a release. I love telling the truth. I'm heading to Seattle on Tuesday and I couldn't be more excited. More to come. I kind of forgot about my blog there for a while. That's how bad it was getting.

Are YOU ready to join the army?

Obsessed? I think not.

So as most (or the two of you who actually read this blog) of you know, I like to sew. In fact, I've been making bags and selling them at local boutiques for the past several months. Needless to say, I've got loads of fabric. In fact, when I move, my fabric takes up more space than my clothes. Anyway, I realized the other night that I really need to start setting my priorities straight when I had a nightmare involving my fabric.

I dreamt that I was housesitting for someone and when I came inside the house, there was a man waiting for me with a knife. He held me at knifepoint and told me that he needed money. Instead of asking me for money (perhaps he knew that I didn't have any), he made me cut all my fabric up into 1-ft squares so he could sell the pieces on ebay. I was so distraught in my dream--not because I had a knife to my throat but because I would not be able to make anything out of such a small piece of fabric.

I need a life.

This is what had me...

I hadnt read any Strongbad Emails lately, so Im feeling reminicent. This is the email that had me hooked...

Money changers in the temple...I kid you not.

So on Thursday nights, I work in the Salt Lake Temple cafeteria serving food. Tonight, I'm cleaning up and I see this sweet old temple worker leaving and I make polite small talk. He tells me that he's never seen me before, I let him know that I've been there about six months, and he says how happy he is to see me at the temple. Anxious to get going, I make a polite comment about him having a little snack in the cafeteria before his last session and he lights up and he asks, "Do you feel that you have enough energy?"
Confused and leary, I answer that I'm sure that I could always use more. He then asks me what I eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and I sheepishly make something up (sorry for lying in the temple, but I'm pretty embarrassed by my poor diet). He then pulls out a bottle of Full Energy Inulin and proceeds to tell me what a difference it makes for him in his energy levels. From his pocket, he pulls a plastic spoon out of a baggie and asks if I'd like to taste it and so I do and politely say how good it tastes. Long story short, he asks me if I'd like to try some. I hem and haw and ask how much, and he says, "only 41.99 for a 1 pound bottle." Before I can think of an excuse to hightail it outta there, he says, "stay right there, I'll be right back." He is gone for a few minutes and I consider slipping out, but remember that I'm in the temple and I'll have to see this good brother every Thursday, so I stay. He comes back with a BRIEFCASE full of this stuff, and shows me a very small $41.99 bottle of Inulin (which, FYI, on the website is $39.99). I tell him that I am a poor teacher and cannot afford such goods, so he gives me a gift of a sample size of the following: Silver, sugar-free nutritive bullets made with 100% Inulin
Apparently, I'm supposed to take one of these 15 minutes before running and any other time I need a boost. My question, what is Inulin? To me, it sounds a bit like Insulin, and that's not good.

Anyway, sweet old man. I'm not interested. When I got home, I looked at the bottle closer, and this "miracle pill" is bottled in Holladay, Utah, and the sweet brother's name was Brother Silver.

Let's face it, we're all barbies.

I'm afraid that it is inevitable. I'm living in Utah, which Barbie will I become?

I live on the East Bench.

"East Bench Barbie" This yuppie Barbie comes with your choice of BMW convertible or Hummer H2. Included are her own Starbucks cup, credit card and country club membership. Also available for this set are Shallow Ken and Private School Skipper. You won't be able to afford any of them.

I work in Kearns.

"Kearns Barbie" This recently paroled Barbie comes with a 9mm handgun, a Ray Lewis knife,a Chevy with dark tinted windows, and a Meth Lab Kit. This model is only available after dark and must be paid for in cash (preferably small, untraceable bills) unless you are a cop, then we don't know what you are talking about.

I do taxes in West Valley

"West Valley Barbie" This Barbie now comes with a stroller and 2 infant dolls. Optional accessories include a GED and bus pass. White boy Gangsta Ken and his 1979 Caddy were available, but are now very difficult to find since the addition of the infant.

I drive a subaru.

" The Avenues Barbie"
This doll is made of actual tofu. She has long straight brown hair, arch-less feet, hairy armpits, no makeup and Birkenstocks with white socks. She prefers that you call her Willow. She does not want or need a Ken doll, but if you purchase two Avenues Barbies and the optional Subaru wagon, you get a rainbow flag bumper sticker for free.

I went to school in Provo.

"Provo Barbie" She's perfect in every way. We don't know where Ken is because he's always at church meetings.

Kira's Ode

Okay, one more tonight.

Kira just finished her ode, so here it go... (es):

I know, I know… it's been way too long,
So I type this ode, to right my wrong.
I wish to say that much has changed,
I'm sad to say I'm still deranged.

The same old story, I'm still at school,
Why talk of this? It is sooo cruel.
I'll write of Cyd, and our party,
I wish we had invited someone named Marty.

It's really hard to rhyme with things like fondue,
I'd have to end my sentence with words like glue or pooh.
Oh crap, my sentences are now getting really really long…
I think maybe this isn't going to finish so strong.

It's 2:47 and we still are awake,
That must've been an awesome party, they must have had cake.
This ode is weak, I know, don't lie.
With this shame, I say goodbye.

For more from Kira, visit her blog.

Happy New Year! 2007

BEFORE

The effects of alcohol are apparent, kids. Don't drink and drive.

Don't drink and have your picture taken either.

DURING

An Ode

I've never been one to ode
but this I'll try for you, my friend.
You begged, you plode
(which means pled, but I had to find
something that rhymes with ode)

Kira is by me, the master of odes.
But she's drawing a blank, so here I goes...

ahh, crap. I'm no good at this.
Instead, I'll just show you a picture of my grandpa riding his tricycle.

Sarah and I met in St. George last weekend to visit my grandparents. They live in a retirement community and all the old men go out every morning for a ride on their giant tricycles. My grandpa loves this thing. He tells me, "You can ride a tricycle when you're a little boy and you can ride a tricycle when you're an old man." So my sister found this t-shirt and bought one for her son and one for my grandpa:
By the way, Kira and I had a fondue party tonight. It was nothing like the epic fondue party we had in AZ, but there were some good memories relived tonight.

ah, the soft glow of illuminated sex.

I never did send a proper picture of the leg lamp that I made. This thing was so jimmy-rigged. Inside that paper mache leg is plaster of paris, lentils, a ladle (cupping the heel for support), three shoe horns to support the ankle, and a little batting at the top.

It actually works as well. I wired it.

After all the messing with it to make it stand up, it looks like the person has a small case of elephantitis in the ankle.

They're losing their momentum the longer I wait.

Aubrey, here are the pictures Momentum Climbing Gym. I don't think that is a great name for it because they are mighty slow...they were supposed to be open at the beginning of December and here it is mid-January and they're projecting the end of February. I'm getting anxious!

Anyway, their website has some cool slideshows as well: www.momentumclimbing.com

So when I first saw these pictures, I was really impressed with the open sky and was wondering if it was a glass ceiling. Then I realized that at that point, the climbing gym was a hole in the ground and that these pictures were computer generated. Sometimes I really amaze myself.

I think I figured out why I'm not married yet.

From the mouth of babes (who usually know best): HOW DO YOU DECIDE WHO TO MARRY? You got to find somebody who likes the same stuff. Like, if you like sports, she should like it that you like sports, she should keep the chips and dip coming. Alan, age 10 No person really decides before they grow up who they're going to marry. God decides it all way before, and you get to find out later who you're stuck with. Kirsten, age 10 WHAT IS THE RIGHT AGE TO GET MARRIED? Twenty-three is the best age because you know the person FOREVER by then. Camille, age 10 No age is good to get married at. You got to be a fool to get married. Freddie, age 6 HOW CAN A STRANGER TELL IF TWO PEOPLE ARE MARRIED? You might have to guess, based on whether they seem to be yelling at the same kids. Derrick, age 8 WHAT DO YOU THINK YOUR MOM AND DAD HAVE IN COMMON? Both don't want any more kids. Lori, age 8 WHAT DO MOST PEOPLE DO ON A DATE? Dates are for having fun, and people should use them to get to know each other. Even boys have something to say if you listen long enough. Lynnette, age 8 On the first date, they just tell each other lies and that usually gets them interested enough to go for a second date. Martin, age 10 WHAT WOULD YOU DO ON A FIRST DATE THAT WAS TURNING SOUR? I'd run home and play dead. The next day I would call all the newspapers and make sure they wrote about me in all the dead columns. Craig, age WHEN IS IT OKAY TO KISS SOMEONE? When they're rich. Pam, age 7 The rule goes like this: If you kiss someone, then you should marry them and have kids with them. It's the right thing to do. Howard, age IS IT BETTER TO BE SINGLE OR MARRIED? I don't know which is better, but I'll tell you one thing. I'm never going to have sex with my wife. I don't want to be all grossed out. Theodore, age 8 It's better for girls to be single but not for boys. Boys need someone to clean up after them. Anita, age 9 HOW WOULD THE WORLD BE DIFFERENT IF PEOPLE DIDN'T GET MARRIED? There sure would be a lot of kids to explain, wouldn't there? Kelvin, age "And the No 1 Favourite is........" HOW WOULD YOU MAKE A MARRIAGE WORK? Tell your wife that she looks pretty even if she looks like a truck. Ricky, age 10

Welcome.

Let's just say that I'm really happy to be here and happy that you're reading my blog. Hopefully something interesting will happen that may warrant a second post. Until then.