Facts.

Fact: It's been awhile since I've done a fact post. It's time.

Fact: I bought a one-shoulder number at TJ Maxx tonight. The cashier man said, "Ooh. Nice dress. Is this one of those fun dresses? Is that what they're called?" I replied, "I plan to have a great deal of fun in it, so I suppose it is."

Fact: You know what else is fun? Glitter is fun. You all know how much I like glitter.

Fact: I'm now the proud owner of a pair of silver glitter TOMS. After holding out for a long time, I finally jumped on the TOMS phenomenon bandwagon.

Fact: I'm pretty sure all of the kids in my kindergarten class will "ooh and ahh" once they see me in them.

Fact: My students can make me feel really good about myself sometimes. They're big compliment givers, especially in regards to my accessories. They're always telling me they like my ring. Or my shoes. Or my earrings. Or my toenails.

Fact: My students can also make me feel like poop sometimes. "Your hair has a lot of brown pieces in it now." In other words, you need to get your highlights redone, Ms. M.

Fact: Speaking of poop, my students have really kicked the bathroom humor into high gear this past week. They've been singing songs and randomly throwing "poop" or "fart" into the lyrics. One of their favorite songs is Taio Cruz's Dynamite. It can be heard on any given day in my classroom during work time. Here's an example of a lyric change: "I throw my poop up in the air sometimes, saying ayo, gotta let go....I came to fart, fart, fart, fart..."

Fact: It is kind of funny. How can you not laugh about the image of poop being thrown into the air? Gross, yes, but funny. Well, I guess it's all fun and games until it comes back down. What goes up, must come down, you know.

Fact: I can't blame them for enjoying singing that way because I'm pretty sure my brother and I sing exactly like that around the house on a regular basis. Yep. I'm pretty sure we do. And I'm a good 23 years older than my oldest student.

Fact: I guess they've given me a new song to add to my collection.

Fact: Call Me Maybe is probably one of my favorite songs right now. I turn it way up when it comes on the radio.

Fact: Speaking of turning it up (don't get excited, it's nothing juicy), I had to turn my heat back on today. It was something ridiculous like 45 degrees outside.

Fact: But then I did something dumb and made a smoothie because when you're cold, you need to make yourself more cold by making a really cold drink.

Fact: I didn't really like said smoothie. Even though it was chocolate yogurt, banana, and peanut butter flavored, it tasted too healthy.

Fact: And this is why I'm in the condition that I am in.

Fact: Speaking of my conditions, I stared at the computer screen a good five minutes before I started writing this post. I was intimidated by the change of the new Blogger layout. I guess I don't embrace change as well because I'm old now. So it makes sense.

Fact: It also makes sense for you to leave a comment below. Tell me a fact.

Potlucks. Happy Hour. Over sharer.

I don't really have a lot of substance to share, but I had the overwhelming urge to write. That might have something to do with the fact that I have homework that needs to be done. Actually, it should have been submitted 6 hours ago, but what'dya gonna do, Sarah? What'dya gonna do?


So what's your take on potlucks? Do you like them? Hate them? Have you ever given a thought to how you feel about them?

Here's my take on potlucks. I love food. This is no secret. They say (whoever "they" is, psychologists? scientists?) men think about sex several times a day. This is how much I think about food. But probably times 187. Food is magic.

With that being said, you'd think I'd be the fan of all fans for a potluck.

You're kind of wrong if that's what you think. I'm all about a smorgasbord of free food, but unlike our friend Templeton the rat from Charlotte's Web, I care about where my food is coming from. I won't just eat anything. I'm not a picky eater, but I'm picky about where my food originated. I have to know that it came from a trustworthy kitchen. To break it down one time, I have to be pretty confident that the maker is clean and the food was prepared with clean hands in a clean place.

Do you all feel me? Are you weird about potlucks like me? I feel like we all know the dishes to steer clear of. Am I right? Or do you just eat and not think about it and ask questions later if your stomach starts to rock and roll?

And what about the word potluck? Who came up with that? Why is it called potluck? Do you have luck if your hind end doesn't end up over a pot (being the toilet) with heaving and sickness from eating after all of those possibly unclean dishes of food? I mean, really. Why potluck? I think I'm going to google it.

So why am I talking about potlucks? We're having one at work tomorrow. And what did I prepare for this feast? Doritos and Lofthouse cookies. Yes. I slaved all evening. I am exhausted. At least no one can blame me if they get sick. Blame Kroger.

Next pressing topic on my plate tonight...

 Plate. Get it? I was talking about potlucks and then I said, "on my plate". Clever.


Sonic Happy Hour. Again.

I know everyone in America was aware of the all day Happy Hour event that was going on. Of course, I couldn't pass this up. I'm a loyal Sonic drink customer. After my exhausting trip to the grocery, I went to Sonic to get my large drink fix. There was no one at Sonic. I was the only car. Excuse me? It's all day Happy Hour! I was surprised but then realized maybe not everyone needs a huge Coke at 8:00 like I do.

When the carhop came to my car I asked her if she was exhausted. She kind of looked at me strangely. I then realized that was maybe a creepy question. I just assumed she knew why I was asking. It was all day Happy Hour! I figured her skates had burned up the sidewalk serving all those drinks. Maybe she had to replace a couple of her wheels. I didn't know. She had to be tired.
I then rephrased my question and said, "So have you all been slammed today because of the all day Happy Hour?" Better question, Sarah. Now she understood me. She said they hadn't been busy at all. The most cars they had at any one time during the day was 10. They even sent half of their staff home. That is sad for Sonic.

I told her the weather was at fault. It was too cold to have cold drinks today. I was in a sweatshirt. I told her this proved my loyalty though. I braved the 65 degree chill to support my drinking addiction.

I hope I'm not too hungover to go to work tomorrow.

Anyway, we chatted for way too long about Happy Hour and drink combinations and speculations about why everyone hated 1/2 price drink specials today.

I don't know what comes over me sometimes. I can't control myself and have to talk to people. Sometimes it just comes over me and I have to talk to a cashier, or a Sonic carhop, or a random stranger like the lady I met at the allergy doctor office today. All of that to say, I'm an over sharer. I over share. I do. I realize this. I don't over share with you guys though. If anything, I under share. Probably. Right?

I try to be friendly to strangers and smile and say "hello" and "thank you" and "yes ma'am". But shouldn't that sometimes be the extent of my talking? Can't that be enough? Do I not hear myself talk enough during the 7 straight hours while I'm at school? Am I that desperate for conversation?

My over sharing happens in instances like this:

Example 1: Cashier says they like your purse. I should handle it this way: "Why, thank you" and scene. Nope. Instead I'll go into the whole story of where I got it and why I got it and why they should get one too.
And then they look at you with crazy eyeballs because you've just gone and over shared and then they make a vow right then and there to never, ever compliment a person for as long as we both shall live.
You can blame me for why compliments aren't given out very much. I've ruined it. I over shared. I've scared people.

Example 2: You strike up a conversation with a stranger at the allergist office. You start to talk about dog dander. The next thing you know you're telling her all about your dog and where she sleeps at night and the kind of bandanna the groomer just gave her. The next thing you know, the lady stands up to leave and she says, "I enjoyed getting to know about Daisy".
And then you realize. Over share. She knows everything about my dog. You were talking a mile a minute. And she didn't want to know that. The whole waiting room didn't want to know that.

So we'll end with these three important questions:

1. Do you like potlucks and do they make you feel lucky?
2. Did you go to all day Sonic Happy Hour or was it too cold for a cold drink?
3. Do you over share or do you follow your parents directions and not talk to strangers?

Being 29 is dumb.

Well. I'm 29 now. So far it's dumb. Two days in and I'm already over it. I want to go back to being 28.

I feel like Billy Madison in that I want to run up to small children and grab their cheeks and tell them to "cherish it". 'It' being their youth. It is so fleeting. Sigh.

 

As you all know, my birthday was on Easter. This was a celebration of the ages for me since Easter is one of my favorite days. Easter is top-notch.
I had a good day. Went to church with my family, Mom made my favorite meal, had a birthday pie, and I got an Easter basket and some birthday presents. And then I started feeling sickly. Stupid allergies. So I took a long, hard nap. That helped.
All-in-all, a good birthday, but it was depressing. This is the last year in my twenties. This makes me super sad. I've loved being a twenty-something.

I'm on spring break, so that's great news. I was overdue a break from work. I needed a mental health break. So far, it's been good for me. I've taken advantage of the week off to run errands and go to appointments that I don't have a chance to do during the work week.

Let's start with yesterday. I went to the dentist. I have gone my whole life being cavity free. It's something I've been proud of. Well, that's all changed now. I've joined the Cavity Club. I have a teeny cavity on my very back molar. I was solemn. My dentist tried the whole 4:1 positive comment thing with me. "You do such a great job brushing! Really, you always have some of the cleanest teeth out of all my patients! You have minimal plaque build-up! I can tell you floss on the regular!" Eh, who cares. All I heard was, "You have a cavity". And it was in the long, slow voice like on The Sandlot,

"FOR-EV-ER". 

"You--have--a--cav-i-ty..." 

and then I heard an evil slow motion laugh

"Bah---ha--ha--ha"

At least I still got a new toothbrush. I was afraid cavity offenders wouldn't get a new toothbrush. I always took pride in getting my, "Look Ma, no cavities!" sticker. I didn't get one this time. Thanks a lot, 29. You gave me a cavity. Or maybe it was all of those Reese's Peanut Butter eggs that I've been devouring for the past month...No, surely not.

And then there's today. $200 vet bill. $150 car bill. I feel like I'm in a parade. Throwing out money to everyone! And I got the good news that it's time for new tires! Hooray! Jubilation! After I finished jumping up and down and yelling, "Woo! Awesome! Great news! This is the best day ever!" all around the waiting room of the car dealership, I decided I just needed to go back home. Which kind of had to happen anyway because when I'm at the dealership, I take full advantage of their cappuccino machine. This results in me having to rush straight home to use the bathroom. Cappuccino has that effect on me. You all? No?

My house is so quiet and boring without Daisy around. When I walked in my house, I called for her. It's habit. She didn't come and it took me awhile to figure out why. She's still at the vet, you see. She's having a day full of services. Grooming, shots, blood work, examination...much like a day spa event, I'm sure. I'm sure that's exactly the way she sees it. Probably much like how the Lion gets treated in The Wizard of Oz. I'm sure they sing to her as they clip: "Clip, clip here. Clip, clip there. We give the roughest claws..."

I have a research paper that's due in 4 hours. I can't predict the future, but if I could, I'd say it's not going to be submitted on time. That's my bet. I better quit writing this and start writing that. But this matters so much more. It really does.

And thanks for the congratulations on the new job and birthday wishes. You guys are keepsakes.

Drum roll Please.

I guess I've kept you all waiting long enough. I bet you're salivating like a lion that sees a gazelle across the grassland. You're so not, but entertain me. I told you all yesterday that I got a new job. What could it be? What could it be?

Now while I would love to have a job like being an ice cream taste tester, or a mattress tester, an animal menagerie manager, or just a Blogger like our friend Jenna from this past season of The Bachelor, I will be none of these things. I will be (drum roll please)...

a teacher.

And now you're saying, "Excuse me, Sarah. You're already a teacher". To which I reply, "Yes, dear friend. You are correct."

I am keeping my title of "teacher" but I applied for and accepted a job at another elementary school in my county. Now that the whole application and interview process is over, I am so excited and relieved. The whole decision-making and pro and con list making was nerve-racking and a stress on my mind and heart since December. 

You see, I'm a lucky lady. I currently teach at a wonderful school, in a grade level that I adore, with teaching teammates that aren't just some of the greatest kindergarten teachers I know, they're also my very good friends. I enjoy going to work everyday, and for that, I feel extremely lucky. It was not an easy thing to decide to give all of that up. Packing up my current classroom will be a very hard thing to do next month. That's when it will become so real.

The school that I will be at next year is a newly constructed school that will relieve the over-population of my current school and another school in the county. 

The attraction of a brand new building with state-of-the-art things was appealing. Duh. I'm a liar if I said that wasn't a factor. And the principal of my current school was hired to be the principal of the new school. I wanted to go with her. But mainly, I was ready for a change in myself. I needed to get a little extra boost of excitement and re-energize myself as a classroom teacher. I have gotten comfortable and I need to change things up a bit. Next year will be my 7th year teaching. I think there's really some truth to that whole 7-year itch thing. Yeah, I know that has to do with marriage, but my job is a relationship for me, so it applies. In teaching, change is not always easy to come by. It's easy to fall into a rut. Opportunities like this are rare. I felt that I had to jump on it.

I'm glad there will be some familiarity there with already having a relationship with my principal and having a small group of my current colleagues join me. But there are still some unknowns. Like my grade level assignment (it will either be K or 1st) and who my teaching teammates will be. 

So, that's my news. I'll still be teaching, but just in a new location. I am thrilled to have this opportunity to help begin a brand new school and new traditions. Exciting, busy, and emotional times are still ahead.

Now, I need a little help from my teacher friends. I have to make a "wish list" of items that I would like to have to outfit my new classroom. I'm having a hard time narrowing it down for what I truly need to teach next year. We're getting the basics like built-in cubbies, a teacher desk, filing cabinets, portable storage cabinet, kidney table, rug, ActivBoard.
I can't take ANYTHING with me from my current school that has been purchased with school board money. Not even staples. This has been made VERY clear in the past couple days. Like, I'm kind of thinking they're going to come inventory our rooms when we pack up to leave.

So.

A lot of the crap in my classroom is mine because I've spent my own money on many things, like all of you do, but a lot of good things will have to stay behind. Like all of my beautiful, expensive Lakeshore games. Sad.

My question is this: what would you put on your classroom wish list?

Please share.

And while we're at it, what about classroom theme? I've done a jungle/monkey thing for several years. It's not over-the-top junglicious, and I still like it, but I'm thinking I may want something different. Why not, right?
This is going to sound dumb, but I've thought about a Sweet Shop/candy theme. Is that dumb? Be honest. I can take it. In my mind it's beautiful. The classroom decor would probably contribute to diabetes and obesity, but it would be inviting for all. Who doesn't like candy?
In my mind I see felt banners, bright colors, an awning, stripes and polka dots. My inspiration came from this tri-fold that my Mom bought me to use for my Sweet Shop fund-raiser that I do each year at school:

Aw. Sweet.

Any other ideas on fun themes? I'm open.

Thanks in advance!

A big list of things I don't like and other randoms.

So my brother walked by me and said, "Remember that time you used to blog?" Yeah, yeah. Mind your own business, brother. It was actually weird that he mentioned it because I was all up in the middle of writing this post. We must have twin speak. Except we're not twins.

I am no good with small talk. At all. I don't do small talk. I do lots of other talks. I sure as heck talk. I do long talks. Funny talks. Weird talks. Serious talks. But no awkward small talk. I hate that. A bunch of head nods and annoying giggles that you don't even recognize coming out of your own mouth and a whole bunch of over exaggerated "yeah" and "uh-huh" nonsense.

:Head shake, head shake. Yeah! Uh-huh! Annoying giggle:

No thank you.

I'm also not good with faking nice. Like J-Lo, I'm real.

I'm also not good with butt kissing. Plus, that's just gross.

Facebook is becoming a drag. I don't think I've ever used the word drag in that context before. I feel like a kid from the Outsiders. Maybe Ponyboy Curtis. Maybe. Anyway, back to facebook. I really want to deactivate my account but always talk myself out of it. It's nice for "seeing" people I grew up with or those that live out of town, but I'm just kind of over it. I scroll through the newsfeed. That's about it. It's not even fun to stalk anymore or look at people's pictures. I just don't care.

I don't like when people don't know how to spell y'all. I've seen this a lot lately. Y'all seems to be really trendy in the written word nowadays. I say y'all. I type y'all. It's kind of expected. I'm from south-central Kentucky, but y'all, it's y'all! It is not ya'll. I don't even know what ya'll is. Ya will? Y'all is short for you all. Ya'll is, well, nothing. Ya ll. Say it that way. That just sounds ignorant. Y'all is so much more intelligible.

I don't like over anxious store clerks. Please let me shop. Please back up out of my space. Please don't ask me again if there is anything you can help me find today. If I need you, I will find you.

I live with my foot in my mouth. Really. Today I totally talked about someone. And there they were. Oops.

I hate glasses. I've had a stupid eye infection and was told no contacts for 10 days. 10 days is a long time. It's eternal for a girl who lives in contacts. And this is probably why I got said eye infection in the first place. Today marks day 8. TWO MORE DAYS!! I will rejoice when Friday morning arrives and my eyeballs will be treated with fresh contacts. Down with glasses. I feel like such a nerd. And they make me feel ugly. I hate it.

Do you know what else is in 2 days? Spring break starts. And I will be overjoyed.

And then do you know what is in 5 days? Only the best day of the whole dang 2012. It is a trio that will stop the world spinning as we know it. This year I'm teaming up with the Easter Bunny AND my man, J.C. (Jesus Christ, for those that don't know him as J.C. like I do) to celebrate. Candy-filled eggs, celebrating the resurrection of Christ, and my birth remembrance. All on Easter. It is momentous.

I have requested that my birthday cake be cut up into miniature morsels and hidden in plastic eggs and scattered amongst my yard. Then my job will be to hunt the eggs, crack them open, and assemble the miniature cake bites back to its original full sheet cake form. It's an egg hunt, a puzzle, and a delicious snack all in one.

Really I don't even like cake all that much. But I like candy. And I love pie.

Speaking of sugar...

Today I took advantage of a free glucose/cholesterol check at my school. I know, really random. I take advantage of anything free. And I knew they would have orange juice and cookies. Free snacks.
I was interested in having my glucose level checked because I take meds to help regulate my blood sugar, but this isn't Health Corner, so we won't go into all that. It's just needed background information.
The nurses pricked my finger and read my levels. When they saw my glucose level, all 3 of the nurses freaked. My level was 30. Anything below 70 is low. 30 is pretty horrible--like pass out, seizure situation. One said, "Are you feeling okay? Are you going to pass out?" I said, "No, I'm just starving".
I had to fast so I wasn't able to have my morning Coke. That was a shock to my system.
One of the nurses ran to get me a glass of juice and made me drink it with a quickness. I also got to eat an assortment of candy, so it was a winning situation.
They were ready to call my doctor, but I told them I was fine. To me it was pretty normal. I had to sit for awhile and then got pricked again to make sure my level raised after getting some sugar in my system. Everything was fine. I did not pass out. I am not dead. I just felt bad for giving them a scare.
I must eat. At all times. Sugar is my BFF. I'm kind of hungry...

Oh yeah! I haven't shared my news with you all yet.

I got a new job. I'll leave you to speculate.

Will I be an acrobat? Or a pirate? Or a butcher, a baker, or a candlestick maker?

Hmm.

I'll be back soon.