Olfactory Factory

As far as pregnancy symptoms go, I haven't had too many. In fact, until our last doctor appointment, I wasn't even fully convinced that there was a baby growing in there. It just didn't add up, the way I wasn't having any sort of symptoms. Today, however, the enhanced sense of smell and repulsiveness to certain smells hit me full force.

It all started prior to 6 a.m. Shea and I were running through the pitch black streets when suddenly, the smell of a skunk was stronger than when we actually got sprayed a few years ago. It was as if the skunk's spray glands were located right under my nose. Of course, at that moment, Shea decided that he wanted to stop and sniff around. As I paused for half a second, I felt the nothing that I had eaten this morning rising up my throat. I literally had to pull Shea away as I gagged. Luckily, my shear strength and determination got us out of the stank area before I let the cookies fly.

Later, after fully recovering from this episode, I was knee deep into my school day. The kids were working on some math related activities and I was walking around checking on them. Walking through one area of the classroom, I smelled a combination of dirt, sweat, and body odor. The smell of a hard working 4th grader who hadn't showered in days. I walked around the room, sniffing my nose around the way Shea does when he is scouting out a good place to pee. By the end of the activity, I had narrowed the stench to two students. Luckily, I was in enough control of my gag reflexes to keep my morning snack down.

After lunch, my stomach wasn't as strong. Now, a social studies activity, I was checking in with a few students on one side of the room, when I heard a fart come from the opposite side. Of course there were giggles, finger pointing, and some embarrassment. Luckily it seemed as only two people had heard it, so there wasn't a complete outburst. The only outburst came when I made my way over to that side of the room. I swear I must have began gagging aloud as I was sure that what moments ago I thought was innocent flatulence, was actually a full blown pants-sh*tting. How could such a massive smell come from such a small body?

I completely avoided that side of the room for the rest of the day. I'm not even sure if those two boys sitting over there finished their assignment. I figured falling a little behind was better than having your teacher puke on you.

My Bag's All Packed

I had a plan ready for today. After school, I would shoot to Doggie Day Care to meet Jeff, pick up my Shea man, switch cars, and head straight home to New York. Jeff and I made this plan unbeknownst to my family. We decided I shouldn't say anything, because I would be told not to come. For some reason, my family doesn't think that driving 7 + hours Friday evening and then again Sunday morning is worth the Saturday together. But to me, to say goodbye to Aunt Nicky and to be with my family, it would have been monumental.

With the weather forecast calling for snow and ice overnight, I even envisioned a snow day. It actually, couldn't work out any better. The majority of snow days in my life, I have found the roads extremely navigable before noontime. Therefore, I would be able to hit the road much earlier and get to my parents house much earlier.

Well, I got my snow day. But, it was the mother of all snow days. As I opened the back door to take Shea out for a nice romp, the snow was plastered against the door.

Nearly a foot had fallen in a short few hours, and it was still coming down with umph. With the wind blowing wildly, the snowdrifts made for complete white out. The unplowed roads, as I found out while running, were covered with a nice, slippery layer of ice underneath the snow. 

As the hours passed, the snow kept falling and the roads remained unplowed, I knew my plans to show at my parents house weren't going to happen. I really wish I could be there tomorrow for Aunt Nicky's mass. I want to see my family and be there with them. But, mother nature, and God, I suppose, had different plans. Plans that leave me with my bag all packed with nowhere to go.

A Passing

I am very lucky. I have always considered myself that, especially when it comes to family. It's not hard to see that I am blessed in this area, if you just take a quick look inside my family life.

I'm talking right now, in particular, about my father's side of the family, although I am equally as lucky to have my mother's side. Along with my unquestionably crazy grandmother, who I speak of often, are her four slightly less crazy sisters. Making them my great aunts. Most people I know, know of their great aunts and see them at large family functions, but don't know them as close members of the family. In the case of my family that couldn't be more untrue. I was lucky enough to grow up with what seemed liked five paternal grandmothers. Each of them extremely loving, caring, and generous to all us kids.

Early this morning one of my great aunts, a very fitting name for them, passed away. The first of the bunch. A family surely blessed with longevity, we can't say she didn't live a full life, falling just short of her 90th birthday. No family or holiday memory is complete without envisioning all of The Aunts. They are certainly what has made our family so strong and close. They embodied the definition family and allowed all that followed them to see how important family truly is. 

As Aunt Nicky's life wore down, we are able to find some comfort in knowing that she is not suffering and in a better place now. Her kind heart that put everyone else first will be missed. Some of my favorite memories as a child were going to The Aunts place on Thursday nights for dinner. Aunt Nicky would prepare a feast of macaroni, sauce, roast beef, bread, salad, and anything else imaginable. Every Thursday evening was spent around the table with more food than we could eat in the entire week, bickering, and lots of laughs. And, as my father said, it was very fitting for Aunt Nicky to leave us on a Thursday. 

Those are the memories I will continue to keep close to me and think back on with a smile. Those are the memories that make me awfully lucky to have the slightly crazy, but perfectly loving family that I do have. Now, we can just pray that Aunt Nicky is being taken care of the way she has always taken care of everyone else. 

Garbage Picking

Unbeknownst to me, my next door neighbors missed garbage day. Or, at least one bag of trash did. And of course, the proper place to dispose of that bag would be placing it atop the picnic table on their back porch. Really, it's none of my business and they are allowed to do whatever they'd like with their garbage. It only became my business when I was outside playing with my buddy, Shea.

Shea was really into the game of fetch we were playing. He seemed to have a little extra pep in his step. As he was returned the thrown ball to me, he suddenly stopped. He began running in a circle as though he was chasing a scent. The circle led him up the neighbor's back porch and to their back door. I was unsure of what he was doing, it almost looked like he was trying to get in. Then, he turned around and hopped up onto their picnic table.

The garbage bag was laying there, beckoning to be broken into. It was awfully easy to break into as well, for it wasn't pulled tight or tied up. Shea simply had to stick his head into the bag and grab whatever was there. Luckily, I am fast enough to get to him quickly. By the time I got to him, all he had time to pull out was half a cookie, an empty Doritos bag, and an empty cup.

So, my afternoon play-session turned into a trash picking up escapade. While I hate picking up my own trash, picking up the slightly sketchy neighbors is much worse! 

Locked Out

Yesterday started well and ended well, but the in between could have used some big help! Shea and I had a great morning run. He even got some swimming in. After I got home, I had an errand to run and then was planning on doing some much needed grocery shopping.

Knowing that I would come home with a large amount of groceries, so as I walked out the door I was debating if I should even lock it at all. I hate fumbling around with the keys while trying to tote groceries in. But, ultimately, I decided to lock the door. I want to make sure my guard dog is safe.

My major problem of the day began at this point. I shut the locked door behind me and immediately knew that my keys were still hanging inside. Yup, that's right. The keys to the house and to the car. Stuck, outside, with nothing. I must also admit, I was inadequately dressed. Having run with Shea earlier, I took my feeling of warmth due to exercise as warmth due to temperature. Boy, was I wrong. I sat outside in the below freezing temperatures in my hooded sweatshirt staring at the back of the house I could not get into.

I climbed up on the back porch a few times and begged Shea to unlock the door. That was one trick we, unfortunately, did not teach him.

Jeff was only ten minutes deep in practice, so I knew him rescuing me would not happen for at least another two hours. As time passed and I began to lose feeling in my fingers and toes, I decided I couldn't stand around and do nothing. I was going to break in.

So, I did. Apparently, I am crafty. Or, our house is extremely easy to break into. All it took was my weight thrusted behind my shoulder and a pair of hedge clippers.

With the ease of breaking in, the only thing that makes me feel safe is that fact that Shea was standing right at the door, barking. Although once I got the door open, he grabbed a ball and ran into the backyard. I like to think that if it was a robber, he'd at least show some teeth. 

Muddy Choice

Shea and I went for a nice long evening run. It was so nice out today (60 degrees) that all of the snow melted. While certainly refreshing after a long winter, running for about an hour on the newly thawed sidewalks does have it repercussions.

The main one, maybe the only one really, is the simple combination of mud and a white dog. They don't mix well. My plan was to bring Shea immediately into the basement to clean him off when we got back home. However, the water part of that darn watermelon I had eaten before going out had run through me. There was no way I would have time to clean him off without the water escaping. So, I had to make a decision. Either I bring him downstairs and piss myself at the age of 27,  or I hit up the bathroom on the way inside and risk the house getting a little extra mud in it.

I chose the latter. As I quickly peed, still hanging onto Shea by his leash, I thought I was in the clear. The habit of washing my hands is what hurt me here. I took the time to do that, and that is when Shea decided to shake himself clean. Shake himself clean all over the back door and the kitchen floor.

I wasn't super excited about this, but I felt as though I could clean it up and still be able to sleep at night. If I had decided the other fate, I would have a hard time facing myself in the mirror.  

Pie Gone

I'd just like to report that my pie must not have been too bad. I know for two reasons.

The first is that I had a piece for myself when I got home from work. There is no better way to relax after a day of working with children than by eating a slice of chocolate pie. When I got the pie out this afternoon, I was somewhat clued to the fact that it must be decent because about half the pie was gone. Jeff had eaten only one piece in front of me last night. Must have been a midnight snack.

The pie didn't disappoint. I was thoroughly satisfied with the taste. I even thought the slightly crumbling crust added a nice touch.

The second giant clue came tonight. After Jeff finished what I alone will deem a delicious dinner, he went back to the fridge for some pie. Rather than cutting himself a slice, he simply brought the dish to the table and housed the rest of the pie. If you ask me, the empty pie plate, for a pie that was just made last night is a tell-tale sign of a good pie.

I'm thrilled my pie turned out to be not only edible, but appetizing. I am also thrilled that Jeff is running!

Sloppy Valentine's Day

Two Valentine's Days in a row, Jeff and I have been apart. I don't really care, only because I feel as though we can celebrate our love any day of the year. It doesn't have to be a special holiday. Anyways, since Jeff was coming home tonight, I wanted to have something nice prepared for him. 

I knew I could make him a delicious calzone. It is one thing that I am decent at making. On top of that, I decided, since Valentine's day is somewhat of a holiday for treats, that I would make Jeff a dessert too. In the past, I have made chocolate pie a few times. I buy those ready-made pie crusts and then instant chocolate pudding. So simple, yet a big payoff as a dessert. 

The problem is that this time, I happened to buy the wrong type of ingredients. Unbeknownst to me, I bought un-instant pudding. This means I had to do more than add milk and stir. I had to boil it up, basically cook it. The making of the pudding required a little more muscle than I had intended, but well worth it for Jeff's Valentine treat. 

Once I was finished getting the pudding ready, I added it neatly to the pie crust. It looked delicious! I placed it in the refrigerator to cool and wait for Jeff. 

After Jeff ate his calzone, which he said was very good, he was ready for his piece of pie. As he cut into the crust and attempted to transfer it to the plate I was holding for him, the pie piece crumbled to bits. It became nothing but a big lump of chocolate with crusty crumbs throughout. 

Why did this happen to my master piece pie, you ask? Because, again, unbeknownst to me, the pie crust was not pre-made. It needed to be baked. Unfortunately, I did not bake it. As a result, it simply crumbled. Happy Valentine's day to Jeff! 

Minute To Win It

Today was the talent show at my school. I was told prior that the word talent is taken lightly here. I took that into consideration, but was blown away by the wide array of talents present among our student body.

Beyond the worm trainer, the original play starring a pet hamster, and the girl who can dance right off the stage, I was most impressed with one particular act. The act, of course, belonged to a boy in my class. We shall call him Joey.

Joey is an avid television watcher. Specifically, he is a fan of Minute To Win It. A few weeks ago while watching this lovely show, he saw a challenge that intrigued him more than others. The challenge was to start with a cookie on your forehead, and move it down to your mouth without using your hands and without dropping the cookie. As the name of the show implies, you have a minute to get it done.

So, little Joey, watching this particular challenge, thought to himself, "I can do that!" And, as anyone would, he began to practice. When sign-ups for the talent show came around, he figured he should show this amazing talent he had been practicing to the world, or at least the school. 

Joey kept his act a big secret from all of his friends. When his act was called on stage, he carried a cd and a bag of Nilla Wafers. He grabbed a Nilla Wafer and took position, but did not start until his pump up music came on. Once Eye of The Tiger began pumping throughout the gym, he began, placing the first Nilla Wafer on his forehead and attempting to get it into his mouth.

His first attempt was a failure, as the Nilla Wafer fell to the floor. Joey was so focused that he forgot about the bag of extra cookies, picked up the one he was using and went right back after it. Each attempt the crowd got more and more into it. When he failed the next time, all of the kids stood up and gave a collective, "ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh." This continued, definitely, for more than a minute. However, after a new cookie was handed to him by the MC for sanitary purposes, and the crowd on the edge of their seats, Joey was successful! The crowd was delighted and he received a standing ovation for his amazing talent.

I was proud to say Joey was is in my class. And, you better believe that when we got back to the classroom, everyone got a Nilla Wafer to put on their forehead.

The Power of Dreams

I have lots of things to dream about as of late. School, my new job, and my new class have been on the agenda lately. So has the tropical beaches of, well, let's be honest, anywhere warm. And the little bun growing in my oven.

Last night, I had quite the dream. March 7th Jeff and I will find out if the baby is going to be a girl or boy. I have my thoughts, and so do some other people. With March 7th only a few weeks away, it may as well be an eternity. It seems just as far away as the warm weather. I am slightly unsure that I will be able to make it to then without knowing. So, I'm not sure if I should take this dream as a hint into the sex of the baby, or as a complete joke. 

In my dream, before the March 7th date, the baby made a surprise appearance. Born less than halfway through the pregnancy, I gave birth to a child who basically walked right out of the womb. The baby literally walked, fully clothed, across the room. Jeff and I, happy the baby was healthy being born at just 18 weeks, were hellbent with anticipation. Then, our sweet baby child unbuttoned it's little pants, looking down them, and declared, "I'm a boy!" 

A cute little boy at that. One who obviously was extremely advanced, at just a few minutes old walking, talking, and in need of no diapers. I also lucked out in that half gone through less than half of a pregnancy, I gave birth to this monstrosity of a child after gaining only 8 pounds. If this dream turns out to be truthful, we are in for a wonderful treat!

Gypsy Woman

An old friend of mine has psychic abilities. I don't believe in much in those types of things, but she really does. She has the track record to prove it. Let me give you an example.

For the past three months, this friend of mine has been asking me the same question each time we talk. "So, are you pregnant?" So, I did what any newly expectant mother would do, and knowingly lied to her for the past two and a half months.

I'm not superstitious, but one thing I am not going to mess around with is my unborn child's fate. I felt as though the first trimester is too much of a grey area to openly announce the little bun in the oven. So, I lied. I continually told her, nope, nope, nope, without any wavering. Then, finally, I admitted to this psychic freak that I had been lying to her for quite a while.

And of course, she knew it.

Well, here's the truth. I can see the future too. What I see is this dear friend of mine starting her own human pregnancy test business. "Don't bother peeing on a stick, just ask Gina the psychic." I believe she can branch off to other areas as well. There is a great fortune to be made out there for her. Lord knows she can start with my grandmother.

I just hope next time I see her, she isn't dressed like the gypsy woman that she is!

Raw Diet

If you were to ask me, I would say that Shea is a pretty healthy dog. He is trim, lean, and muscular. He exercises at least twice a day, and he has a good appetite. Thinking long term, I want my boy to be around as long as possible. While this is a great start to that happening, I have heard a lot about processed dog food being similar to eating McDonald's everyday. So, about a month ago, I began researching how to cook healthy, raw meals for dogs.

The spoon is just for stirring

I thought this would be a good idea because I am such a good cook to begin with. I began cooking Shea's meals about a week and a half ago. I started slowly, substituting half of his normal food content with what I made. I now am only adding about a quarter cup (which is approximately 12.5% of his normal meal intake) of purchased dog food to the meals I am cooking for Shea.

Last night, while Jeff and I were out to dinner, he asked me if I enjoyed cooking for the Big Guy. And it's weird, because I'm not huge into cooking, but I really do enjoy cooking for the dog. My reasoning for Jeff as to why I like it so much is because Shea always seems to really like what I make. He always sits in the kitchen while I prepare his food, and as it gets closer and closer to eating time, he gets antsier and antsier. He begins to salivate. Although, I don't want humans salivating over my meals, I wouldn't mind a little excitement over whatever it is I choose to cook on a given night. That doesn't happen, so I guess I just appreciate Shea's excitement.

Think What You Will

This blog is not about spelling things out for you. So, I'm not going to spell this out. Instead, I am going to give you a quick photo montage and you can come to your own conclusions:

Go ahead and think what you will. 

Almost Right in the World

After postponing my first day of school due to inclement weather, I finally left the house feeling good this morning. I kissed my husband and dog goodbye, slipped out the back door, and hit the button on the garage door opener to get going. Right then and there, my plans for the first day of school game to a halt.

That picture is not the garage door mid-opening. Nope, that's the garage door stuck. So, as I freaked out, asking God why he was doing this to me, I decided that I would get that garage door open whether I had to push it up myself or not. Luckily, before I had to do that, and before I ran back inside to wake Jeff's a$$ up, I hit the button another time and the garage door raised as it was supposed to. 

I was able to make it to my first day of school, and early at that. The day was just wonderful. The kids, cute as can be. I'm sure it is annoying for someone to love their job, but today, I'm going to be annoying. I feel as though all is right in the world, and I am back to where I am supposed to be. Well, everything is almost right in the world. The garage door is now officially broken. 

First Day

Most of my days are good. I would rarely say I have a bad day. Yesterday, was different. It was a great day. It was a great day for many reasons, but we will focus on me being at school.

I did not spend yesterday in my classroom with my students. Instead, I spent it visiting different classrooms throughout my new school, meeting students, teachers, and observing the ways of the school. It was very helpful and my day just flew by.

I can't even express to you how at home I felt being at a school and in a classroom. A sense of relief took over my body, knowing that today I would get back to doing what I love. The job that never seemed like a job to me.

With that sense of relief, came extreme excitement. I planned the perfect day for today. A way to get to know my new students, have them get to me, and to include the curriculum. I set my alarm extra early in anticipation of my big day this morning. I didn't even need it, because I was ready to pop out of bed at about 5:30 am.

I went through my normal morning routine, just earlier. Shea and I went for a nice run. We played in the backyard. I showered and got dressed for a successful first day. However, so enthralled with the idea of being in my classroom today, I did not take into account the 12-plus inches of snow that Shea and I trekked through this morning. I went in to kiss Jeff goodbye and he pulled out his iPad, which informed me that school was closed for the day.

Normally I am as happy as any other teacher (and student) when a snow day is announced. I enjoy rubbing it in to those who are not in a field that shuts down with bad weather, preferably college basketball coaches. But today, what was supposed to be my first day with my new kiddos, I was very disappointed to say the least. What's even worse, right now we can hear the sleet and freezing rain banging into the windows. This lovely winter storm is going to be in effect until 7 pm tomorrow night. I wonder if wearing my pjs inside out for a non-snowday will help?