The Walkers

I bought a yearbook this year. I know, lame. I figure, if I buy one every three years, I'll eventually have pictures of all of my students. So in ten years when I'm thinking, Who was that little sh*t in English 10? I can find his/her picture from back in 2008. Anyway - that is my reasoning for purchasing said memorabilia. (Plus I bought it with teacher money, so technically, it was free.) Such is my justification, which is why I was baffled yesterday when I was talking to some fellow teachers who were excited to get their yearbooks signed by their students. Signed by students? Is that normal? I was weirded out last year when students wanted me to sign theirs... but for a teacher to collect sixteen-year-old signatures?? I don't know. I have a sneaking suspicion that way too many teachers choose their careers just to relive their glory days of adolescence. (Or, just as likely, to be the "cool" teacher because they weren't so "cool" as a student.) Is h...

Brad has been out of town for about a week now, and this morning I came to the undeniable realization that I need a husband. Not for the cuddling and the help opening the jam jar (although those two things are excellent perks to marriage), but for the incentive to get my butt out of bed. My alarm clock went off at 6:00, after which I continued to push snooze every nine minutes until about 7:15. I'm supposed to be to work at 7:30, by the way. Normally, Brad would have kneed me in the kidney after snooze number two and shoved me out of bed. It sounds cruel; but it's necessary. So, in my unwed, lazy state, I'm currently un-showered, my make-up consists of one haphazard coat of mascara, and apparently I didn't look in the mirror when I put on these pants with this shirt. Not to mention I began first period by snapping at at least two unsuspecting teenagers. I feel bad - but it takes me at least an hour to perk up in the morning.

One of by best friends from high school, Mandy, just bought a house in Washougal, Washington (Camas's rival, mind you) and posted pictures of it on her blog. So I stole one. This is the view from the master bedroom balcony. I'm SO jealous! All I can see from my bedroom window is my neighbor's bedroom window :) I wonder if Brad can open up a Walker Mortuary satellite location in the Pacific Northwest.... I doubt it.

The Jazz won yesterday, there are only two weeks left of school, and I got plenty of sleep last night. I woke up this morning and put on a bright pink shirt to celebrate spring and happiness, but much to my dismay, raindrops are falling on my head. We got enough "moisture" this winter (why does everybody use that silly vocabulary in congregational prayers, by the way?)... So why are these little black rainclouds trying to destroy my good mood?

In light of Cinco de Mayo... I had an embarrassing flashback moment this morning (that I made the mistake of sharing with my first period class), remembering the three consecutive years that I celebrated "NSync-o de Mayo". The fake holiday consisted of listening to nothing but the fake band's fake music and watching N The Mix , while perhaps sporting some home-made JC Chasez gear. How sad. I never know whether to reminisce and laugh about memories such as these, or bury them deep in my subconscious and pretend they never happened. I really think that pop music in the late 90's was infiltrated with subliminal messages. How else can I justify ever owning such ridiculous NSync paraphernalia as: a singing poster, a singing watch, a marionette, and a board game (that I still can't part with)? Wow. At least I know I'm not alone here.

Okay - so I've been "trying" Proactiv since last summer, and have yet to see real improvements. It hasn't made my skin any better when I use it. BUT - if I go a couple days without it, I totally break out. So I guess my skin is addicted to the chemical concoction, but it's only maintaining my original amount of acne-face. Am I alone in my frustration? Has this stuff worked for any of you? Should I throw in the towel and save 20 bucks a month?