Wednesday, April 25, 2012

You Gotta Do Pilates...Pt. 2

Despite my fervent prayers/attempts to otherwise distract myself, the conversation during last night's Pilates class between the instructor and the three (yes...3) of us that were in attendance never really seemed to end.

After we moved on from Billy Jr.'s mama's boy issues and cyst removal, we moved onto the next natural subject: the neutering of feral cats.

Because, really? When does that kind of information not come in handy?

But oh it does. While I was doing the Hundred and the Plank, I learned the Top 10 places to neuter cats (lest they show up on my back porch) within a 60 mile radius. Other fascinating topics included, but unfortunately were not limited to:

1) If and when one can lure a stray cat into a carrier for transport to the vet
2) The cost comparison of rabies shots throughout a tri-county area, and
3) Extremely detailed recovery time and post-op treatment

Umm...does this mean I can get into Child's Pose while y'all finish up? (But for real.)

All part of the small town charm? Maybe if you find rabies shots charming. This is almost making me long for my anonymous New York days, where no one would talk to you even when you had something interesting to say.

Also, after attending this Pilates class 3-4 times, I have a sneaking suspicion that she never changes the routine. Ever. It seems to be the exact class every.single.week.

Then again, maybe next time I'll chime in with stories about my students that would make stuffing a feral cat in a cage seem like a recreational activity. Maybe.

You Gotta Do Pilates...Pt.1

After a great beach trip with my girls this past weekend, I've decided to kick my workouts into high gear in the hopes that I can reenter civilization this summer while looking smokin' hot. Oh, and because I'm banking on endorphins to power me through the last part of the school year. (Please. God.)

My first stop: Pilates, for those enviable, Jennifer Aniston-while-paddleboarding flat abs.

You know, like that.
However, I highly doubt Jennifer attends workout classes at a YMCA in a town with a population of 2,000.

Case in point? There were four people in my Pilates class last night. Including the instructor. While I tend to think of Pilates as "an hour-long class designed to increase core strength and produce long, lean muscles", the ladies were going in more of a "let's discuss personal information at an extremely high volume for the entire class period" direction. Just a snippet of what I listened to while trying desperately to follow instructions: 

"So, Nance, didya hear about Billy Jr. getting his wisdom teeth out? I heard he had five teeth up in there. Sure did. FIVE teeth! (Feet in the air. Lower them down on the exhale, raise 'em up on the inhale.) I was like 'Are they gonna charge you extra for all them extra teeth' and his mom was like 'I sure hope not, it's costing me an arm and a leg pump him full of Vicodin'!  I know that's right. (Leg in the air! Draw cantaloupe sized circles. Now the other direction!)Wouldn't you know they found a cyst up in there too. Five teeth AND a cyst? Sure did. She said she's got him on Vicodin, an anti-inflammatory, Advil, and an antibiotic. And wouldn't you know, Billy Sr. came home fussin' and hollerin' that she was doping him up. Looks like he's the real pill!* 

Har har har. 

What. the. heck.

Did it ever occur to anyone that:
1) I might not have any idea who Billy Jr. is, and
2) the last thing I want to hear about is his delightful-sounding cyst and soon to be dependence on prescription drugs?

I might be sticking to the workout videos from here on out. Sigh. What's a girl gotta do to get a beach body these days?

*This conversation has not been exaggerated for humorous purposes. Verbatim people, verbatim.

Friday, April 20, 2012


A snippet of conversation from my classroom yesterday:

Me: Hey, 8th grade? I know you guys keep saying things like "when we gonna get on up outta here" and "why do we have to do this stuff when we already know it" and "why this class gotta be SO BORRRRING", but that's rude. And, according to your predicted End of Grade test scores, you DON'T know this. So zip it.

My (one) girl in the 8th grade class: Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan I hate it when teachers be doing that trying to make us all feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel bad I mean why they gotta be saying stuff like that it's rude I ain't do nothing to you you gotta turn on me like that I mean I'm just saying you say something to me Imma say something back. It's. RUUDE. 

Me: Um, first of all, take a breath, since I'm pretty sure that was all one sentence. Second of all, the truth hurts.


Did I mention we have a 2 hour fog delay this morning. That means school doesn't start until 9:30. I equate this with the clouds parting slightly, the lights of heaven shining down upon me, and hearing God's booming voice gently say "GREETINGS YOU WHO ARE HIGHLY FAVORED". If you don't understand why, re read the top of this blog.

(Very) Happy Friday!

Thursday, April 19, 2012

The Heart Is a Lonely....Something or Other

By all accounts, this week has been a really good week.

My kids have actually gotten quiet when I've said things like "Be quiet".

T. gave me a huge hug upon our return from Spring Break. (By "huge hug" I mean he sort of kind of draped his arm around my shoulders for a second, but trust me, that's huge.)

The weather's been great so I've actually been working out, and even went on a 5+ walk with some friends. (Considering my current social life in Edenton, that is pretty much the equivalent of a cocktail party.)

But something's just not sitting right. I was talking to my friend Shannon last night when she helped me figure it out: I'm lonely.

While most people may have a reaction somewhat like "Duuuuh", this isn't a feeling I'm used to having. I grew up in the middle of nowhere and was an expert at entertaining myself.  But for some reason this feels different.

Work/life balance has a lot to do with it. Besides walking the same loop around my tiny town and watching Real Housewives religiously, there's not many ways to decompress after work. (Besides heavy drinking, which I've heard is generally discouraged.)

I keep telling myself that it'll be better next year, that summer is just around the corner, that that's when I'll finally have time to write like I want to. But I need to realize that the only time I have is NOW, and that summer doesn't hold some magic elixir that will provide endless blogging and story writing.

Plus, I still have students showing up everyday and trusting me to teach them. So there's that. can I enjoy the moment and not feel like I'm pushing fast forward to summer?

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Haughty Reads: What Would Jackie Do?

If Jackie O. had written a blog, I'd like to think that she would have called it Haughty by Nature. 

But then again, I also like to think that I'll marry rich and have a summer home in Nantucket. Thus, dreams don't always mesh with reality. 

I picked up a copy of What Would Jackie Do? on the (gasp!) bargain shelf, and for weeks let it lull me to sleep each night with dreams of Camelot and custom made Oleg Cassini dresses. 

Sigh. I was SO meant to have a trust fund. 

While their are plenty of books about beloved style icons-Audrey, Jackie, Marilyn, this one is wonderfully organized and chock full of intimate (in a good way) information from many of Jackie's nearest and dearest. It reads like a gentle how-to guide for us middle class plebeians to learn to dress, work, and evoke a certain patrician essence. 

Bottom line: Could be the best $4.99 I've ever spent. Because while I may not be decorating my Upper East Side pad or jetting off to Martha's Vineyard, I can still carry myself with the grace and style of Jackie, in clearance j. crew pants that would have made her proud. (Apparently, Jackie loved a bargain.)

And if nothing else, I still have a chance to marry a "Man of Consequence", which might be just what I need to take care of that little UES/Martha's Vineyard real estate problem. 

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

I Got the (Spring Break) Blues

Ugh. Spring Break is overrrrrr.

And, along with it, any reason for living.

Overdramatic? Duh. (Did you read the title of this blog?) But you would be too if you'd just spent an a-MAH-zing week that involved lots of wine-soaked Bravo and Food Network viewing, 6 mile walks around the Greenway in Charlotte, and lazy days on the beach in Sullivan's Island.

In tequila-laden bliss on Sullivan's
Overall, I'd forgotten how good it feels to:
1) wake up after 5:30 am everyday (aka I can actually stay up and watch Real Housewives instead of recording's the little things people. The little things.)
2) have something to talk about other than teaching (books! movies! Real Housewives!)
3) go where I want, when I want to. (Because there's more than 5,000 people in the 20 mile radius.)

We hit the town in Charleston Saturday night, in which I felt like a socialite due to the sheer fact that I stayed up until 3 am. 
At Squeeze in Charleston

Ignore my devil eyes and focus on my new LILLLY DRESSSS! 
Sigh. It's not work that I dread coming back to. It's the fact that my days of popping into Barnes and Noble, wandering through the aisles in Earth Fare, and meeting up with peeps for happy hour are effectively over.

I need my social life back.

You would too if you came back to this view:
View from my classroom. Wonk wonk wonk.
Very similar to the one I used to have from Hearst Tower in New York: 

Any advice on how to power through the next 6 1/2 weeks until summer?

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