Y’all, I have one more week in this long, long, long, long, long semester. Not bad-long, just long-long. And I’m ready for a break, but what I’m really excited about is organizing all the boxes of class materials under my bed into spiffy binders. And these spiffy binders will all fit into one box, making it possible for me to get rid of all the others. Then, I’m going to adjust my prices and re-list my books on half.com in the hopes that they all sell so I can get rid of that book case. And after that, I’m going to go through all my clothes and sort them honestly based on what I wear and what I don’t. I’m going to get rid of the ones I don’t wear, and then I’m going for a run.

When I get back from the run, I’m going to shave my legs. Both of them. All at once. Then I’m going to catch up on all my stories and take a nap. When I wake up from the nap, I’m going to go to the movies. I don’t know what I’m going to see, but it’s going to be good, and then I’m going to do my Christmas shopping.

After that, I’m going to read. I don’t care what. I’m going to go to the ‘Bou, get the free drink they promised me after making me the wrong drink last time, and read until I’m over it. Then I’m going to look at Etsy and Pinterest while I watch Bones and, let’s be honest, probably Elf for the fourth time in a month. I’m going to lie on the floor and watch the lights on my Christmas tree twinkle while I listen to all my favorite music. And I’m going to talk to people on Skype at all hours of the day and night when I would normally be asleep or at work.

If you would like to join me in any of these activities (except the napping and leg-shaving), you are welcome to do so. It would please me very much. We can make gingerbread houses and eat cookie dough and go ice skating and maybe even hold hands.

Ok so now that everybody pretty much knows, I guess I can talk about it.

I might be moving to Europe. It’s weird to type it out into the world like that. So far, it’s just been discussed privately among a few close, trusted friends and people I knew would understand and be excited with me. Honestly, I have no idea what’s going to happen. I’ve been taking things one step at a time, and really, at any point, the whole process could just be over, and that would be it. We’ll see. But for now, we press on.

I’m applying to go with World Team either to Italy or Spain. This is the same organization I went to Italy with back in June, and so far, this process has been…quite thorough. It’s been very cool – I’m learning a lot about myself as I go – but it has also been taking up lots and lots of time that I might have otherwise spent blogging. Or (let’s be honest) watching every episode of Bones (again) on Netflix. The application alone was at least twelve typed pages, and then they sent me the personality tests, the spiritual gifts test and the Bible tests (one of which I told you I flunked miserably, the other I haven’t been brave enough to take yet).

Then they sent me the official invitation to join them for a week of information, evaluation and mutual assessment, and suddenly things got really real. First of all, I need about $700 to make it happen, which is the first real commitment I’ve had to make. Until now, it’s all been literally on paper. Just theoretical. Just a really, really amazing dream of a possibility. Just paella and/or pizza, European public transit, Romance languages and adventure abounding on every side. But when it hits your pocketbook, it hits home.

Then, speaking of home, I started thinking about all the things I’ll miss if I leave. Weddings, birthdays, family reunions, my godchildren growing like weeds, Baby Josh, maybe Moravian Sugar Cake in my PJs with my family on Christmas morning. I don’t know what I’ll miss and what I won’t, but I know I’m asking my family and friends to make as big a sacrifice as I’d be making in going.

But then I started thinking of all the things I’d miss if I didn’t go, namely the chance to do something awesome, something bigger than myself, something impossible, something I’ve felt compelled to do for the last seven years. I don’t know the details of what’s in store for me. I just know that if I don’t at least try, I’ll always regret it and wonder.

I think y’all would too. You know me. You know I’ve got this crazy pull toward Europe. I honestly think if I didn’t at least try to go, some of you would be disappointed. So I’m asking you to sacrifice with me, but also to share in the awesomeness, knowing that your letting go is fueling something incredible.

I didn’t intend to make this a fundraising post, so you can stop reading now if you want it to not be about money. But if you’re still with me, and you want to give a little bit to help me get to the assessment week, please contact me. Comment, call, email, text, smoke signals, carrier pigeon, dream invasion, note in study hall, whatever. But maybe don’t send me a pigeon. You know how I feel about birds.

Amaris‘s brain doesn’t always work. I don’t know if she needs more sleep or if she’s got some kind of vitamin deficiency or what, but sometimes she just ain’t all there. I can say these things about her because she knows it, and I’ve said it to her (though she probably doesn’t remember), and well, she’s just not ashamed. She is who she is, and we love her.

Well, this morning, I got a tweet from her that I should go look at Mary’s feed because the content of one of her tweets was a direct result of me and my awesomeness. So I went, and I looked, and I did not get it. Then, as I thought more about her most recent tweet, a tiny, vague and very hazy memory began to creep ever-so-slowly and sneakily into the very back corner of my mind. It said, in part, “[my husband] is singing along to Billy Joel, which is just awesome.” And I thought, Did I turn Karl on to Billy Joel? That feels kind of familiar.

So I asked Amaris, and she told me this WHOLE long story about how I told Karl that any man who likes music should have a basic appreciation for Billy Joel, and how the women in his life, and maybe even his future wife, would love it if he liked Billy Joel, and on and on and on.

Y’all, I have no recollection of this whatsoever. So I told Amaris that if we don’t have husbands when we’re old, we need to just move on in together so we can try and help each other remember to put our teeth in and wear clothes when we leave the house. I don’t even care if they match. (Well, I want my teeth to match my mouth, so I hope I don’t put hers in, but as far as my clothes go, I’ll still be so urban that it won’t matter.) Clearly our mental capacities are already failing us, so now is the time to prepare.

So if any of y’all want to get in on this, let me know. We can buy a big ol’ house somewhere and form our own old folks home. Surely somebody will have a kid who’s a doctor who’ll come over and check on us once a week. We’ll hire a college kid to do all our grocery shopping, and when he/she comes over with our rations, we’ll say things that are totally inappropriate and unexpected for old people. We’ll play games in the back yard, but we’ll cheat, of course. We’ll go on early evening walks through the neighborhood, smiling and waving at all the families out playing in their yards. We’ll sit out on our porch on Sunday afternoons and wave at passing cars. We’ll always have candy in our pockets to give to the kids at church. We’ll have surprisingly good Halloween decorations. We’ll dance as much of a jig as our hips will allow when Christmas carolers come by. We’ll drink wine on the porch at 10 in the morning just because we can get away with it ’cause we’re old. And when we wake up at 3 in the morning because we went to bed at 7 the previous evening, we’ll take the opportunity afforded to us by the cover of darkness to go skinny dipping in the community pool.

Won’t you join us?

I mean dag, y’all. I suck at this. I’m sorry. Here’s what’s been happening.

I’ve been working. We’ve been in class for three weeks now, and my students are fabulous. As always, I love them to pieces. I’ve been having about 15 every day, and yesterday, at our 2nd registration (out of 3), I got EIGHT more. Holy crap. We literally had to change classrooms in the middle of class because we would not all physically fit into the room we were in. And the church where we have classes is doing some work on our two biggest classrooms, so those are currently out of commission. All I can say is God help the workmen to finish those rooms before the next registration, or I’ll be teaching in the sanctuary, and I’m pretty sure that would weird everyone out.

My afternoon classes have been having pretty decent attendance considering we’ve only had the 1st registration. I think they’ll pick up significantly next week with this new batch of students, and the slang/idioms/phrasal verbs class is FUN. It’s actually pretty hard work for the students, but I had them do some writing for me the other day, and they’re really getting it. I wish I had some samples to share with you, but alas, I gave them back already.

Oh! I do have a pretty amazing story for you, though. I was having dinner with some friends last night (old and new), and one of them was Italian. He’s here studying at NC State for a semester, and he was telling us about a mistake that he’s been making in English for the past month that no one bothered to correct him on until recently.

In Italian, you can ask someone for a favor by saying “per favore,” or you can ask someone more politely for a bigger favor by saying “per piacere,” which, literally translated, means “for pleasure.” So this guy has been asking people “politely” for “big favors” by saying, “Can I ask you a pleasure?” or, “Could you do me a pleasure?”

Well, his friends have just been letting him say this in coffee shops and gas stations all up and down the eastern seaboard, but to make the story even better, he gave us an example that was supposed to be completely innocuous, but he didn’t know that the thing he was requesting could also have another meaning. He wanted to convey that he’d been asking people for “pleasures” and then just ordering simple things in a coffee shop, but his example was, “Excuse me, could you do me a pleasure? Could you give me a muffin?”

Oh my, how we did laugh! And then we ate crepes.

I’ve been doing more things, but to tell you all of them in one post might be a tad overwhelming, so I’ll save them for another post (which I’ll go ahead and write and then set up to post itself next week some time so we don’t go this long again without having some sort of update). Ciao, y’all!

Did I really not blog all last week? Hmm. I meant to. I thought about it on several occasions. What was I doing anyway? I certainly wasn’t lesson planning, and I wasn’t doing other things on the internet because we didn’t have it yet. Maybe I didn’t blog last week because absolutely nothing happened worth telling anyone about. I remember going to work on Wednesday evening, and I remember saving 20% on my Kohl’s purchase by applying for a credit card that I will probably never use again. I remember checking out The Girl Who Played with Fire from the library and having to get the large print edition because they didn’t have the regular one. Somehow I recall buying lots and lots of food. Why did I buy so much food? And I remember watching lots of movies.

Man, that had to have been the most boring week ever after a really, really good weekend in Asheville, which I’ve just realized I never told you about. Ok, so basically, I hung out with lots of friends, ate at all my favorite restaurants, did a little too much shopping, bought a FUN new camera that takes eight pictures and puts them on one print kind of like a photo booth, and went funyaking.

Funyaking (or duckying), by the way, is GREAT. We had so much fun, and now that I’ve used one, I can tell you more about it. So the funyak is made of the same material as a white water raft, and it’s inflated like a white water raft, but it’s in the shape of a kayak and only big enough for one person. They have two-person ones, but we just used the singles. It’s a little harder to maneuver than a kayak because it’s heavier and doesn’t cut through the water as easily, but that’s ok because if you run into something, you just bounce off. I ran into a bridge, for example, but I just bounced off and kept going. It also feels a little safer than a kayak because it doesn’t roll at all. It could flip over given the right (or wrong I suppose) circumstances, but mine never did, and anyway, if it did flip over, you’d just fall off because you’re not sitting down in a hole with your legs trapped like in a kayak.

In short, two thumbs up on the funyak. I highly recommend it for anyone with any kayaking experience whatsoever. Even if you just have a very realistic imagination regarding the mechanics of a kayak, I think you can do a funyak. And the folks at the Nantahala Outdoor Center were fabulous. Give it a go the next time you’re up that way.

Physically, I’ve been back in the country since Sunday afternoon. But my brain is just now catching up. Y’all, I’ve been SO tired all week, and today is the first day I almost feel normal. The weekend went a little something like this:

Friday

Friday night, after a full day of all our stuff (kids camp, etc.), we went out for a fancy dinner in a restaurant in a suburb of Milan. The food was amazing, and there was an endless parade of desserts that made my day. We didn’t get back to the hotel, though, until after midnight, and then we had to get up at 5:00 the next morning because we’d decided to go to VENICE!! This was an idea we’d tossed around early, early on in the planning, but we’d decided against it because it’s farther from Milan and more expensive to get there. HOWEVER, because this year marks the 150th anniversary of the uniting of Italy, they’re selling train tickets at discounted rates (presumably so that people can travel around and see the whole united country). So we got two-for-one tickets, and away we went.

Saturday

Like I said, 5:00 a.m. Barf. It was basically horrible because Saturday just happened to be my hair-washin’ day, so I had to get up to make that happen, and then we had to leave the hotel at 6 to go to the train station to get on our 6:50 train. But in the end, it was totally worth it.

We got to Venice around 9:30 and were unleashed upon the city. Our group of eight broke up into smaller groups, and Mark and I set out for Murano, which is a little island just north of Venice where they make glass things. We went to see a glass blowing demonstration, and then after doing a little souvenir shopping, we decided to try and find some lunch. What appeared to be the main “street” was a water street like those in Venice, which was really nice because it felt like we were in Venice, but there weren’t a million people. The water was calm, the boats were parked, the restaurants had seating on the sidewalk right beside the water, and you could hear the guy down the street playing the accordion. Seriously, if y’all ever go to Venice, this is the place to be. It’s like Venice, but a little cheaper and much less hectic.

So we’re sitting there finishing our pizza and getting ready to ask for the check when a girl walks up and says my name, and I look up, and it’s a girl I knew in Asheville. Yes, leave it to me to run into someone I know in a foreign country. I knew that she was there, but since we hadn’t been planning on going to Venice, it hadn’t occurred to me to get in touch with her, but there she was with her new fiancé, headed to the grocery store.

So we chatted with them for a little bit and marveled at how weird it was that we’d just run into each other there, and then they started telling us all the insider secrets on where to go and what to do. This, friends, was the greatest thing that could have possibly happened because they knew where to go for a 50-cent gondola ride.

Yes, that’s right. I said 50-cent gondola. Now, normally these things are like a million euros (not really, but they may as well be because there’s no way I could afford even half an hour on one), but those are the ones that ride you all up and down the canal. But come on, who needs that, right? The only thing you really need with a gondola ride is the photo op. You just do it for the experience, and the experience doesn’t really have to break the bank and take up the whole day. Sixty seconds will do you just fine, and that’s about what you get for 50 cents because it literally just takes you from one bank of the canal to the other.

Y’all, it was perfect. It made my life, no joke. It was the best spent money ever, and that includes hair gel purchases.

After that, we made our way to the gelateria to which we’d been referred, and it was also pretty magical. Then, all the items on our agenda checked off, we just ambled our way back to the train station, stopping in buildings and side streets and bakeries and stores all along the way.

We hopped back on the train around 6:15 and headed back to Milan, where we had to pack before going to bed because we had to get up at 5:30 the next morning to head home.

Mid-Story Recap

So just to remind you, we’ve now had late night, early morning, busy/exciting/exhausting day, and late night with early morning looming.

Sunday

We got up at 5:30 a.m. (11:30 p.m. on Saturday in NC – This will be important in a moment.), dressed, tossed the last of the stuff into the bags and headed downstairs to check out. Our ride to the train station arrived at 6:30 to take us to where we got on the bus that would take us to the airport. We got to the airport around 8:00 (2:00 a.m. EST) and checked in for our 10:00 flight.

Our “10:00 flight” boarded at 11:00 and then proceeded to sit on the ground for three hours while they “fixed” a valve. The captain gave us frequent updates that were slightly less than reassuring:

• The valve isn’t working.
• We’re not sure if the valve isn’t working, or if it’s just the indicator light.
• We’re on the phone with our folks in Dallas, trying to figure it out.
• We’re going to just close the valve and NOT USE IT ON OUR EIGHT AND A HALF HOUR FLIGHT.
• We can’t get the panel off to get to the valve because the screws are stripped.
• We’re drilling the screws out now.
• Ok, we’ve got the panel off, and we’re working on the valve.
• We’ve got the valve closed. Now we’re trying to find new screws to put the panel back on.
• We’ve got the panel back on. We’re finishing up the log book, and once we get it back on board, we can take off.

Then it sounded like the plane was driving through a large and violent automatic car wash, at which point, Mark whips out Joshua 10:11, which reads, “As they fled before Israel on the road down from Beth Horon to Azekah, the LORD hurled large hailstones down on them, and more of them died from the hail than were killed by the swords of the Israelites.” Thanks, Mark.

• Ok, folks, we’re all set for take-off, so if you would, make sure your seats and tray tables are in their upright and locked positions and that your seat belts are securely fastened. Flight crew, prepare for take-off.

Then it suddenly got really hot on the plane and something smelled like old, overheated hair dryer, and that’s when we prayed and took off.

Fast-forward to New York.

We landed at JFK around 5:00, which was when we were supposed to land at RDU, but clearly we had missed that flight, so they had re-booked us on a JetBlue flight, which was nice, but it didn’t take off until 10:00 (4:00 a.m. on Monday in Milan – Remember how we woke up at 5:30? Yeah.). So we went through passport control, got our bags, went through customs, took the AirTrain to the terminal where JetBlue is, got our boarding passes, re-checked our bags and went through security again. Half-asleep, we found and ate some food, and then we all fell asleep at the gate while we waited for our flight home.

After that, it was pretty smooth-sailing, but I didn’t get home until at least 12:30 (6:30 Milan time), and then I had to get up at 7:00 to go to work on Monday.

So yeah. Beat. But I think I’m back now, or at least well on my way. And thankyaJesusandamen for a long weekend to recuperate even more. I am very much looking forward to it.

I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up or make anyone think that I have any intentions to stay in Raleigh for any significant length of time, but I will say this: I don’t hate it. Actually, there are a few things I very much love about Raleigh, or at least what I can see it becoming. Or maybe the niche I could see myself in if I did decide to stay for any significant length of time (not that I’m saying that’s going to happen).

This weekend, L-Josh and I went to a new Saturday market in Boylan Heights, which, incidentally, is where I would live if given the choice. It’s a cute neighborhood right beside downtown with tree-lined and canopied streets. And now they’ve got their own market! Honestly, right now it’s a pretty sad little market. There were exactly ten vendors and no food trucks (as advertised – I was really looking forward to The Grilled Cheese Bus) – just two farmers, a beer tent, a seafood tent, a cookie table and five crafters, one of whom wanted to tell us the full history of every piece of jewelry she was selling. We didn’t stay there long, but I think it has great potential (*cough, cough, Grilled Cheese Bus, cough*).

We then went over to City Market for The Handmade Market, a twice-yearly event featuring, you guessed it, hand-made items of all sorts. There’s a lot of jewelry, but there are also soaps, clothes, non-jewelry fashion accessories, toys, and art – all hand-made, many designed and made by local artisans. It’s pretty fabulous, and I ran into at least three people I knew. I love that.

Which brings me to Hargett Street.

I don’t think I’ve walked down Hargett in the past year without seeing someone I know, and I love that. Once, on a brisk Sunday morning, a family from my church even stopped to offer me a ride. Things like this make me feel like Raleigh is a much smaller place than it is, not that it’s all that big. I think one of the things that often frustrates me about Raleigh is that it’s not small enough to be quaint, but it’s not big enough to be exciting. It’s stuck in the mid-sized zone where the traffic is annoying, but the problem isn’t bad enough to force the city to rethink its public transit. It’s like Raleigh is going through puberty, growing at an alarming rate, but not sure yet who it’s going to be.

But when I walk into The Morning Times and run into a handful of friends every time, it feels more like home – like the awkward tween when she’s caught off-guard, not trying to impress anybody and just being herself, like the small town where you grew up, like Cheers.

This is what I hope Raleigh grows into. I don’t think it’s ever going to be taken seriously as a metropolis, and that’s ok, but we can’t stop the growth at this point. So I hope that even as it grows bigger, it will grow smaller. That as it spreads out, neighborhoods will grow stronger and closer-knit. That rather than becoming exciting in the same way New York or Chicago is exciting, it will become the kind of city that doesn’t feel like a city at all, where you can go places and know people, where the baristas have your regular order memorized, where the excitement comes not from the zillions of things going on, not from the hustle and bustle, but from the everyday triumphs and joys of the people around you – the people you know, the people you love, the people who are family (biological or not).

This is what I want for whatever city I end up in, whether it’s Raleigh or Madrid (not that those are the only two options) – not just a city, but a community. And I think that it’s possible everywhere, but I’m happy to see it happening here.

I’m pretty much out of words for the month, so forgive me if this is short, stilted, awkward or otherwise unreadable.

New Orleans was GREAT. We had a fantastic time, we had the best cheerleaders ever, we ate a lot of really good food, and we completed all 13.1 miles of the 1/2 marathon. We actually did really well with our running/walking intervals for the first 10 miles, and then we both started having joint problems, so we decided to walk the last 3 miles. However, somewhere around mile 11 or 12, I looked at Amaris and said, “You know we’re running across the finish line, right?” to which she responded, “Oh, yeah. Of course.” So when we got to the end and saw the boys, we picked up the pace, and JBeau was able to catch it all on film. I was pretty pleased to see that you can’t really tell how much pain I was in, and the cheering drowns out the sound of me going, “Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow” with every step.

I came away with a new running shirt, a Mardi Gras medal, a slight sunburn a blister on each heel and memories to last me a lifetime. Plus, I took lots of fun fisheye pictures. Have a looksee:

On Friday, we went to the convention center to check in for the race and pick up our goody bags. We took this one right after we left there while we were waiting for the streetcar to come. We spent roughly 40% of our time in New Orleans waiting for streetcars to come.

Saturday morning, we went to Camellia’s Grill, which is an extremely popular diner on the St. Charles line. It only has about 30-40 seats inside, and there are two small couches for waiting, so the line goes out the door and down the sidewalk. While we waited, the fellas went down to a gas station and picked up some snacks. We finished the snacks, waited another 20 minutes or so, and then finally got into the building where we waited for another 10 minutes to get seated and eat. It was totally worth it.

I feel like I’m finally getting the hang of the long exposure thing. When you’re using this camera inside, you pretty much have to leave the shutter open longer to let in enough light to see what you’re taking the picture of. This one worked out nicely. I just wish we could have gotten one of our waiter, Marvin, whose name tag said, “Word,” as did he.

Once again with the long exposure. We went to this record store on the recommendation of “Al, he sells records” from the Edwin McCain song, “Alive.” My friend/coworker, TeacheRisa, see, is a bit of an Edwin junkie, and she was in New Orleans for a show one time when she met Al. They still keep in touch, and although he no longer sells records, he told us about this place, which was pretty cool. I believe it was called the Louisiana Music Factory. It was on Decatur, just a block off of Canal.

A guy in the park offered to take this of us when he saw us trying to do a self-portrait. The great thing about the fisheye camera is that it takes great self-portraits because you can get SO MUCH in a shot. All four of us could fit comfortably in an arm-length picture (see Camellia’s Grill above). However, there’s a lot more freedom to do what you want in a picture taken by someone else rather than trying to just squish all together to make sure you all make it into the self-portrait. As you can see, though, I still got squished.

My favorite thing about this picture is that the guy who took it took my camera, looked at it very perplexed for a moment, and then said, “What the…? What is…? Is this a FILM CAMERA?? Man, you guys are hipsters.”

I don’t actually have any race photos, but they’ll be along shortly. Amaris is apparently editing them right now, which means they’ll be on facebook tonight, which means they’ll be coming your way soon thereafter. Get excited!

I know it’s not quite as Capra-esque as a visit to Washington, but having Mrs. Emily Furr Hogan herself here in my very townhouse was definitely a highlight this week. Mrs. Hogan, it seems, booked a trip to NC, was very excited to have nearly two whole weeks with her family, then got to WILKESBORO!!!!! and realized there’s only about a week’s worth of visiting that can be comfortably done there. After that, without some buddies with whom to get into some mischief, it’s just boring. Plus, I think the snow covered up all the sidewalks and driveways she might have wanted to sidewalk chalk, so she had to get out. And I am just honored that she chose to come visit me!

So we had a little reunion last night at dinner – Emily, Julie, Jessica and myself representing Wilkes County – and Amaris and W-Josh rounded out the group nicely. Knowing as much as they do about my childhood and adolescence, they fit right in. We could flow easily in and out of conversations about our current life situations, Matt Hagaman, travel, the Wilkes Skippers, manties (man + panties), and the Wilkes Central Madrigal Singers without anyone missing a beat. Well, Emily and Jessica had never heard of manties, but we caught them right up. Besides, I think I made up the word manties back in my days at American Eagle SoHo (flagship store 81), so clearly it just needs some time to sweep the nation properly.

By the way, regarding Mr. Hagaman, Emily Furr Hogan tells me he was recently sighted wearing a sweater vest. I never thought I’d see the day.

Anyhoe, after dinner, Emily had a little surprise for me. Right there in downtown Raleigh, she pulled out of her trunk…

Tippy the 2-D Dog!

Now, if you are unfamiliar with Tippy, let me just explain (and this will give you a good idea of what all of high school was like for us even though it happened in grad school). When we were both living in NYC (Emily at Columbia and I at NYU), I had…a vision. At the time, I called it a 1-D dog until someone pointed out to me that that would just be a line. But I wanted a flat dog. I don’t know why. Don’t ask. It doesn’t make any sense, I know. Maybe I felt left out seeing all the people walking dogs around the city. Maybe I wanted a pet I didn’t have to take care of. Maybe I’m just super weird. But Emily was on board with the idea and set to work straight away.

What resulted was an image of a dog, printed once, then reversed and printed again. The prints were then mounted on cardboard and foam core and glued together with a yard stick in the middle. The yard stick comes out at such an angle that when you hold the end of it, it looks like Tippy is walking in front of you on an unusually thick leash.

We walked Tippy all over the Big Apple. We even took him to a dog park, where Tippy “played” with other dogs, which basically meant that we poked strangers’ dogs with our pieces of cardboard and foam core. I still can’t believe we got away with that. But good memories. Good memories indeed.

So Tippy now lives in Raleigh, and he is currently perched in the window by our front door, “keeping watch.” He’s a good pup.

Emily also brought me a Puerto Rican woman’s driver’s license, but that’s another story.

Well first let’s start with an update on my vacation to-do list progress. I spent the weekend with Rachel and Annabelle baking. And hooooo-boy did we bake! I think we made about 90 buck-eye balls, about the same number of pretzels with melted Rolos and pecans on top, roughly 50 Christmas wreaths, and when I left, Rachel was still rolling out and baking cookies. Christmas wreaths, by the way, are super-easy and very delicious. If you’re looking for something festive to make this year, I’ll tell you how to do it.

Basically, they’re like Rice Krispie treats, but you use Corn Flakes instead of Rice Krispies. So you melt the butter and marshmallows together in a pot, and then you add green food coloring until the whole pot of goo is green. Then you add the Corn Flakes and stir until they’re all covered in green goo. Then you plop them in roundish clumps onto wax paper and add a few Red Hots (you know, the tiny cinnamon candies) to look like berries on the wreaths. Then just let them cool and set a bit. Voila!

Oh, and the pretzel thingies were really easy too. We just got the sort of checker-board-looking pretzels (like these) and laid them out on a cookie sheet. Then I painstakingly unwrapped a whole mess of Rolos and placed one on top of each pretzel. We popped those into the oven for a few minutes, just to soften the caramel center of the Rolos. Then we took them out and smushed a pecan half on top of each one to make them a bit flatter and spread the chocolate across the whole pretzel. Let those bad boys cool, and you’ve got yourself a treat.

Oh, and also, I watched FOUR movies this weekend, so I’m very proud of that. It was also on my to-do list, if you recall.

But look at me. I’ve gone and gotten distracted by sweets and films. I meant to tell you about my first weekday of vacation, the first goal of which was to sleep in. Mission accomplished!!! The next goal was to get out of bed and go straight to the shower so as not to sit around all stank in my jabambas all day. BOOM! Showered.

Then, I was supposed to get dressed and put my face on as if I were going to go out to a real job in a real office because they say that’s what you should do if you work from home – treat your job like any other job – with professionalism.

Except when I got out of the shower, I realized that all my clothes were dirty.

So I put on clean jabambas and started a load of laundry. Oh well. I’ll get it right tomorrow. And in the meantime, I’ve got work to do. But hopefully, I’ll have something to say to y’all more often since all my brain power won’t be sucked out of me by the evil lesson planning fairies for the next few weeks.

Until next time (tomorrow??)…