I wanna talk about me
I solve crossword puzzles in my spare time. I cheat at crosswords when I get tired or bored or just don’t know the answer. My favorite place to be is wrapped in a quilt. My cat is one of my best friends, but I like dogs, too. I wish coffee didn’t stain teeth and invite dehydration, ‘cause then I’d drink a steady flow. Whole milk is my favorite but I drink 2% because I’m afraid my metabolism will slow down someday. I’m kind of a hypochondriac. My inner monologue is constant and, I think, rather entertaining. I like to be told bedtime stories and to have my hand held. I sleep with a teddy bear. I’m a mix of Monica Geller, Kathleen Kelly and Sally Allbright… or at least I like to think so, because they’re my favorite fictional characters. I love cheesy musicals and sometimes pretend the leading man is singing about me. I can be slightly narcissistic. I like pink but prefer to surround myself with earth tones. I love orange, even though it reminds me of Auburn, Florida, Miami and Tennessee. I wish I were more spontaneous. I’m a daydreamer. I love road trips and long conversations with friends. I can have an adventure without leaving town. I don’t like the phone very much, but I can get past that for people who are important to me. I think I’m a catch. I don’t believe it’s a meal unless it includes meat, spinach or eggplant. I love Jesus but always fall short of my expectations. I read two or three books a week. I think daisies are the friendliest flower, but I love daffodils and tulips even more. A man who can sing makes my knees wobble, but a man who can write makes me melt. I love brown. Chocolate is always appropriate but flowers are better still. I love hugs. Sepia photographs are the best. I think I’m a princess but have never dated a man who agreed. My cat is a better judge of character than I am. I’m wee. Autumn makes me want to fall in love. Summer makes me want to flirt. I express my moods through my earrings. I think curly hair is the best, especially on men. Plaids, long sleeve, button down collared shirts make me want to snuggle. Just like every other woman, I feel fat at “that time of the month.” Unlike many women, I know I’m not. I think coffee shops and board games make great first (or second, or thirty-second) dates. I enjoy being single. I want to wake up with rain falling on a tin roof while I’m safe there in your arms. I love playing in the rain. Good songs are better with the windows down, especially when it’s cold. The beach is best at night. Honeysuckle is my favorite fragrance; it reminds me of my childhood. Fondue is overrated but I still like it. I think paper is romantic. I’m crazy, but I like me this way. I’m a drama queen, but it keeps life interesting. I’m a list maker. I wish I looked good in yellow. I keep myself awake at night thinking about what is, what has been and what will be. I love art galleries and I miss living within walking distance of several. I love rich fabrics–I should probably learn to sew. I spend money when I’m lonely. I’m not sure if I look good in hats, but I have several anyway. I have more winter wear than a Southerner probably should. I love leaves; maybe that’s why autumn is my favorite. My favorite sound is the crunch of stomping in piles of fallen leaves. I like Pottery Barn, even though it’s big and corporate and looks like everyone else’s stuff. I think the best rooms aren’t purchased at Rooms to Go. I like interior design. (Once I thought about majoring in it.) I’m an excellent letter writer. I can talk for hours about football, coffee and my cat. I’ve been called eccentric; I took it as a compliment. Valentine’s Day doesn’t really bother me, though I’ve never had a date on it. I haven’t had a proper date since 1999. I don’t know what I want, but at least I know that much. I want to play guitar, but I’m too lazy to learn. My guitar is pretty, anyway. Heirlooms are better than fancy new things. I have a squeaky voice in which I talk to animals and babies. I might want a dog someday. I know I want babies someday… at least one, anyway. There’s nothing easier than loving a newborn. I’ve never been “in love.” Maybe someday. I put lots of things off to “someday.” I’m trying to stop. Perhaps my biggest faith challenge is perfectionism. I’m very type A. I’m more forgiving of others than of myself. I like pigtails, flannel and cowboy boots. I have romanticized ideas of the west. I love curly haired men. I have a certain voice I use when I want someone to think I’m cute. It’s kind of annoying. I have a huge smile (even though I’m self conscious about my teeth). I love the smell of coffee. When I was a little girl, I dreamed of marrying a man who drank it so I could smell it every morning. I had no idea how much I would love it myself. I read too much, get quiet in large groups and have recently learned to enjoy wearing socks.
It’s Friday night and I just got paid
After a long (short) day of working hard (hardly working) as a substitute teacher, I went grocery shopping on the way home. I skipped this activity last week because I really couldn’t afford to buy anything. I ate a lot of baked potatoes instead.
As the cashier rang up my items, totalling $30, I thought about how I probably couldn’t afford it… but I didn’t purchase anything wasteful, and I would just have to make ends meet somehow. I flashed back to last week, when I slipped my credit card through the machine in exchange for a new pair of glasses (on order).
I don’t know how, but I am confident God will provide.
After I unloaded my groceries, I paused to open my mail. I was most curious about a plain white envelope that bore no evidence of the sender but the postmark. I instantly knew who it was, but wondered what this person had to send.
$100.
That’s right. $100. For me.
I’m still shaking my head in surprise.
Somehow, it’s even more exciting to see how God meets our needs when it’s done at the genoristy of other people.
Thank you.
No more pencils, no more books
Ever wondered what it takes to become a substitute teacher? Yeah, I hadn’t either–that is, until I realized the low balance of my checking account. Suddelnly I became really curious about what sounds like an almost-ideal part time job.
I bet you didn’t know how time- and money-intensive the process is, either. I mean, it makes sense. You don’t want just anyone to have eight hours of (paid!) access to your children. But dang, you’ve really got to want it to jump through these hoops! Hopefully by tomorrow I’ll be done with all but the training, and by Friday I’ll be certified to substitute teach in my little county in Alabama.
Sub teacher checklist
You will need:
1. Completed application (check)
2. Recommendation form, to be signed by school principal (this is on my list for tomorrow)
3. Copy of driver’s license (check)
4. Copy of social security card (check)
5. Proof of education (check–they photocopied my high school, bachelor’s and master’s degrees)
6. $20 money order for substitute teacher’s license (also on tomorrow’s to do list)
7. $49 money order for fingerprinting and processing fee (again, tomorrow)
8. Results of a tuberculin skin test (I paid someone $15 to poke me with a needle. I get the results tomorrow.)
9. Form I-9, employment eligibility (check)
10. Tax forms, federal and state (check… I got my daddy to help me. I didn’t want to claim anything incorrectly.)
11. New hire form (check)
12. Workshop attendance (it’s my understanding that these are the last Friday of each month… which is why I’m in such a dang hurry. 🙂 )
HELP! I need someone to HELP!
If I go without my glasses for long enough I start to get a headache. So just a few minutes ago I went to grab my glasses and alleviate the hint of a headache that’s playing around the edges of my mind.
When my thumb went right through the frame, I freaked out. “WHERE IS MY LENS?!?!?” (Yes, I know a lens is a weird thing to lose. But it’s GONE!) Apparently the screw that held that half of the frame fell out… somewhere… and now I’m missing both a screw and a lens. (Haha… I’ve got a screw loose… ha!)
I have no idea where my stinkin’ lens is. I looked all of the places I remember setting my glasses in the past day… but I can’t find it.
I’m gonna have to buy new glasses, aren’t I? I can’t AFFORD new glasses. Dang it… anyone wanna give me $200 or so?
Still a little bit of your words I long to hear
When you don’t have a lot of friends, places instead of people become the company you keep. When I need intellectual stimulation, I go to the library. (Of course, this is also where I go for brain candy.) If I want a little culture I’ll wander through an art museum. And if I crave the easy camraderie of conversation with an old friend, O’Henry’s is my destination.
No, it’s not a perfect substitute. I would take Heather or Alisa or Megan (or Lara or Alison or Sarah or Philip or Rob or Natalie or Apryl or…) any day. But a lonely Friday night at O’Henry’s is better than the same at home.
Okay, so here I have to pay for my company. A $2 cup of coffee is much easier than a $2000 sorority. Still, my mood lifts just a bit when I’m sitting with the fireplace surround and soothing folk music.
And y’know, I’ve also adopted accessories for entertainment. (Yeah, I’m crazy. But you already knew that.) You’re more likely to catch me in my glasses if I’m feeling a bit shy. Though they’re just metal and plastic, the thin layer separating me from the world offers some comfort.
My pink trenchcoat is my secret weapon: it’s the ‘pretty maker’. I don’t care what I’m wearing or my mood; when I’m in my pink coat, I feel a little special. And I’ve got a hat that I’m just saving for a day when I feel a little funky and unique.
Hey. When your cat is your closest companion, you’ve got to find entertainment somewhere.
Three boys questioned in brush fire
This is what I saw when I left Starbucks yesterday evening. It’s not every day you drive past a 35 acre fire…
Red, red rhine
I’ve learned a little secret this week. It doesn’t matter what I’m wearing–whether it’s flannel PJ pants, a bleach-stained Alabama sweatshirt and fuzzy slippers or my “fat jeans,” a flannel shirt and cowboy boots–when I’m wearing red nail polish, I feel like a sexy lady.
I never wear finger nail polish, much less red… I’m pretending it’s in honor of Valentine’s Day (though it’s really more in honor of me getting bored and painting my nails).
Cheer up sleepy Jean, oh what can it mean
I tend to write more when my emotions are raging. I’m not sure the nature of the emotions really matter—happy-go-lucky, bitter, angry, depressed, romantic, playful—they all find me with a pen in hand.
I strive to find music appropriate to whatever mood reigns, and the perfect song just filled my bedroom. I don’t have a love I’m hiding from friends and family (I’m not very good at keeping that sort of thing a secret), but “Love Soon” (John Mayer) fits the tone of this moment. Upbeat and romantic, the lyrics and cheerful guitar support the dance my feet have been taking.
I don’t know why this daydreamy feeling has seized my days, but it’s fun. Or well, I guess I do know… but it’s nothing exciting. Cold, wintry days, guitar-driven acoustic pop, a westerny quilt, a cup of delicious coffee and a pinch of girlish optimism are the language of my romance. If Mr. Right were to come a-knockin’ this week, it wouldn’t take much persuasion to win my heart.
Or maybe it’s just the pink “amore” coffee mug. Who knows!
Red, red wine
I am really in the mood for a glass of wine.
My grandmother and I don’t usually keep alcohol in the house, so that’s not happening. (Unless I suck it up and drink from the opened bottle of blush that’s been sitting around for a month—yuck.) But somehow a glass of wine seems appropriate with this “single girl on the brink of… something” I’ve got going on.
The mood is otherwise set. My “Changing of the Garnet” painted toe nails rest atop the quilt I’ve been reading under all day. My hair is up in a messy bun, and a pile of books is growing beside my bed. If I were writing on my laptop instead of in a spiral notebook, I’d feel vaguely Carrie Bradshaw-esque. (Yeah, I’ve caught a few episodes of Sex & the City since it’s been on TBS.)
I’ve even got an appropriate TV-movie-ish vibe coming from my stereo—Coldplay seems all the soundtrack rage. Despite the fact that I’m not really doing anything, save for the crossword I’m about to begin, I could be in my own little movie-television-book world, just me and my inner monologue.
Well, if only I had that glass of wine.