Where to start with what turned out to be a rather fantastic week? After learning that Harry Potter is indeed the love of my life, I enjoyed the pleasures of an English staff party where the general rule of thumb was to stay one drink behind your professors. That rule somehow got twisted into you HAVE to stay at least one drink behind your professors so the night became a drink off. That’s right. I said it. A drink off. Not a moment passed when one of these beloved English figures did not have a beverage in their Shakespeare loving hands. They made us look like novice drinkers. I’ll say it – all of my professors can and most likely did drink me under the table that night. It was a great time; lots of drinks, food, and Christmas cheer. Unless, of course, you were Jewish, then it was a little bit of Hanukah cheer. For some reason, even though papers needed to be written and portfolios graded, we migrated over to Beth’s with the leftover cheesecake and beer, and Will. We soul searched and laughed at the expense of others until Beth and Will succumbed to Mr. Sandman. I went with Lark to Wafflehouse because it was the only way to end a night of such revelry.
The Greatest NCLR staff
My Belizian Love
(Emily, moi, Tabby, Lark)
Friday was my last day teaching. Exams are Monday and Wednesday but Friday was the last day of classes. It was bittersweet. I am really going to miss some of those kids. They make me laugh. They also make me yell, but you take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there you have… sing with me now… the facts of life, the facts of life. Speaking about the facts of life, one of my former students who dropped the class because she was with child, brought her baby by to see me during class time. I thought it was sweet and the baby is absolutely precious. She let me hold that teeny tiny 8 pound bundle of joy for a good 15 minutes. I got the glazed over “I want to get married and start a family” look in my eyes. My students pointed it out and a couple asked why I was not hitched with a bun in my oven. Ah, to not know the answer when someone asks you why you don’t have what you obviously want and can get. If I wanted to settle, I’d have it. If I didn’t want this million dollar education, I’d have it. If I’d never left Gates County, I probably would have it. And oh, if I had converted over to join my sweet Mormons, I’d have it. I guess the main point I have to make is the first one I made: If I wanted to settle, I’d have it. Obviously I am holding out for Daniel Radcliffe and in no mood to settle. It’s just seeing young families so insanely happy and then looking at my family unit of me and Scout. Don’t get me wrong, I love my babydog, but sometimes this rambling apartment can get a little lonely.
“And now write me a song
One that makes all the girls cry
And the old women swoon
At the sound of my tune
And the hearts of the lonely will fly”
Saturday night I met Marti, Beth and Lark for some yummy food and then we left Lark to go write her papers while we went to see Edwin McCain’s Christmas concert. After hearing horrible things about the opening act, we were pleased to see a bar, beckoning to us with shiny green Heineken bottles. We were well prepared when the opening act appeared. They weren’t good. That’s really all I can say. Quite often, they carried the wrong tune if they carried a tune at all. And they sang a song about fruitcake. “Don’t forget the cinnamon” haunted my dreams all last night. But they did have something magical: they had Mrs. Claus. That’s right, she was there in the flesh. She didn’t know it, but she WAS everything Mrs. Claus is supposed to be. She looked like she would smell like Christmas cookies and peppermint and she had the perfect lap for holding a small child while reading a Christmas story. We loved her. And she could sing, as Mrs. Claus obviously can. Did I mention that we loved her? Finally, Edwin came out. Good ole Edwin. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you. Anything new in your life? He looks the same. His gorgeous voice is the same. I got some nice pictures and was able to walk up to the stage. I only used that opportunity once after I realized he sings with his eyes closed most of the time. I didn’t want to stand there waiting for the opportunity to catch him looking at me when he doesn’t look at ANYTHING. But he did see me. After the concert, I had to pee. We’re talking pee really bad. We’re “talking skip to the bathroom and please don’t be a line or I will pee on the floor” bad. We get there and what to my wondering eyes should appear, but Mr. McCain himself. He stared confusedly at my antlers and my distraught face as I struggled with my options. Have my picture taking with Edwin McCain and risk the warm trickle running down my leg or nod my antlers at him and go potty. I opted for the can. Sorry McCain, as much as I love you, and contrary to Billy Madison, peeing your pants is NOT cool.
(Open your bloody eyes, Edwin)
We left the convention center, my antlers still raising eyebrows (I decided I should be called Vixen), and headed to AJs for some more good times. We called Lark, and just like the bat signal, the beer signal had our hero joining us within minutes. I ordered a big mug for Beth and myself. I didn’t know how big it would be. I didn’t know that it would be a glass mug. The thing weighed more than that small baby from Friday. We wrapped our grubby little hands around it and drank it like hot cocoa. It honestly required both hands. We drank insanely fast simply to lighten our load. In retrospect, we probably should have just sat the mugs on the table…
(Don't blame your gas on the reindeer!)
So that, in a nutshell, has been my excitement for the past few days. This week I have exams to give and papers to present. One of those papers is finally written, but the other has not even been started. *sigh* Hurry up and get here Christmas… Or Thursday. Thursday is going to be a good day.
