For 2011

Since this is probably the last post I’ll write this year, there are some things I need to say.


As (what I loosely term) a writer, thank you for reading what I have to say. Even when it’s rambley and pointless, and even when I fail miserably at being entertaining. 


As a mother, thank you for the advice. For looking at pictures of my kids, reading about issues, and enduring things I think are hilarious or great just because I happen to be a mom.


As a student, thank you for your encouragement. 2011 has been a year of decisions, and the decision to go back to school is one I’m particularly proud of. If it hadn’t been for the cheerleading I’ve gotten I don’t know if I’d have made it.


As a potentially crazy person, thank you for making me realize that no matter how strange or off I feel, I can be honest about it and I’ll still have someone(s) on my side.

Only ten years late

Last week I took my last final of the semester.  
This means that I have officially taken twelve years to complete a two year degree. 
Who the hell cares, because holy shit I never even thought I would even do that much. It’s very exciting. And now we wait, because in just a month I will either be attending Ole Miss (already accepted/admitted, just not registered) or the University of Alabama (just applied last week). This is very important since (barring Josh’s somewhat unhealthy obsession with their football program), Alabama seems to have the whole “distance learning” thing firmly in hand. They’ve been helpful and friendly and I hope I know something soon.
So it’s a big deal that Northeast is over. 
I mean, big deal, right? It’s a junior college and I pretty much gave up all my lofty Ivy League dreams the minute I signed the papers in 1998.
But it is a big deal to me. That school, corny as it may be, gave me some of the best and most interesting experiences of my life. 
Like the time we set up a scavenger hunt and asked a bunch of guys to the Sadie Hawkins’ dance.
Like sitting in daisy fields and watching meteor showers.
Like carving jack o’lanterns at Liza’s.
Like watching movies at Matt McCoy’s.
Like climbing up the porch roof at Scooby and Wingo’s crack house.
Like sitting in the stairwell in Indianapolis and talking about sin and heaven.
Like standing in the blistering heat to do not much besides carry around a clarinet.
Like empty stages and time to reflect.
I learned a lot about myself during the time I spent there. And I suppose since I left I am supposed to have grown up, whatever that means.
But I don’t really think so.
And it’s not like I’ll particularly miss it – the missable part is long over, but there’s some odd finality in at long last closing that book. 
Let’s just hope the grades come back nicely.


So, here I am again. 
Let me tell you, whatever this germ is that has assaulted my insides over the past two days, IT WINS. I have never been so miserable. Well, wait. The last time I was this miserable I was eight months pregnant and had the flu. That was bad.
But this, this has been awful. I took finals last night in a cold sweat and just prayed I wouldn’t hurl on the table. Or poop myself. Or both. And while I think I may be over it and Lucy didn’t seem to have it quite as bad, Josh has it now. Everyone knows that when the man gets sick the world is ending.
It snowed last night. There was a big uproar because we were under a WINTER STORM WARNING. The pink and blue on the radar was very promising indeed.

 And then this happened, and it was lovely and exciting. 

I even started to maybe believe the warnings, and i got a little excited. I live in Mississippi, people. We get real snow maybe a couple of times a year.


Then this morning I woke up and looked outside with huge anticipation….


Nothing. The pavement was wet. The end. I wanted to go find the inventor of the Weather Channel and punch him.


Max was excited, though. He had been upset that school might be closed because today is the chess tournament that he’s been prepping for for months. Which is why he woke up, looked out the window, and yelled, “SWEET!”


Yup. It’s my kid’s fault the snow didn’t stick. Maybe I should punch him.


Turns out she’s studying endangered species

Yesterday I finished up my midterms.

I had three in one night, which sounds insane. I realize. I did it that way for several reasons, but mostly because all the time slots were full at other times.

I spent yesterday studying. Or writing down all three study guides. Twice apiece. It’s how I do things.

During the course of my checking on past assignments to look over and review, I found an (unscheduled) exam that I quite clearly had not taken, since on the grades list there was a bigass zero. Zero. ZERO.

I’m already running short on those little pills I take for the crazy, and upon seeing that grade I could easily have downed a few horse tranquilizers and felt not much.

I emailed my instructor. Begged. Then refreshed my inbox every ten seconds waiting for a response.

After a minute and a half I had no response. The NERVE.

So I went to the staff directory on the school website, thinking maybe I could find a phone number or office hours. Her name didn’t come up. What?

I went to Google, the answer bank of the stars, and plugged in her name. In so doing, I found out that my instructor apparently lives in Chile.


I tried to calm myself. Time zones and sheer geographic reality were heavy on my mind. I reasoned with myself that there was no need to freak out, because either she was going to let me take the test or she wasn’t – time really wasn’t even a factor.

I went to unload the dishwasher, but the dishes smelled like unwashed belly button so I ran them again. There went that distraction.

I went dutifully back to my studying, but I couldn’t concentrate so I decided to call the phone number on the class contact profile. I’d dismissed it earlier because I hate the phone and I wasn’t even sure it would go to my instructor, but these were desperate times.

I plugged in the numbers and waited.


What the hell, Universe? I miss an exam and my instructor has a Magic Jack phone in Chile? Do they not have AT&T?


About five minutes later, I got an email saying sure, I could take the exam, the password was beach and good luck to me.

I’m pretty sure she was pissed. I don’t know what time it was in Chile but I’m thinking not tea time.