VeeTee

I am enjoying one of (possibly THE last day....the snow is brewin' up somethin' special I hear) the last days of my 5-day extravaganza at home. I don't mean home in Bev, but HOME home in Williston. I think it will take a lot of doin' in order for my HOME home status to change from Williston to anywhere else....if it ever does. I tell my parents that stepping into my Williston home will never ever get old. I just love it and love the people the reside in it. And the people who reside about 10 minutes south of it who always come to sleepover. Going home isn't filled with wild and crazy nights with high school friends or anything crazy like that (please, don't you know who I am?...the little old lady stuck in a 26-year-old body?). I really didn't keep in touch with many high school friends and for the ones that I did, it's pretty much thanks to Facebook. The extent of friendship I have with my high school friends is "liking" statuses and poking each other. Timeout: poking? Com'n. So silly. But so funny every time I bring it up, I think.

Timein: What I'm trying to say is, I love that going home means doing nothing but relaxing. The craziest thing I ever do here is maybe do a triathlon or go to Costco. Seriously. CRRRAAAAZZZYYYYY!!!!

So anyway, because blogging makes me want to make lists of various items or at least bullets, I will makes bullets sharing why I love my VeeTee visits so much. Boring, maybe, but it was your choice to be a follower (thank you!) or your choice to become a follower because you better or I will hunt you down. Another timeout: a friend from college did remind me of a great Michael Scott quote that I think fits my blogger expectations for my readers perfectly: "I like to be liked, but I don't need to be liked. Not like my need to be praised." So...get on that, wouldja?

*The people. Obviously. And if you know me even a smidgeon, you know that I love my parents and am excited to see them but the other, equal, but also okay fine I get really excited to see them, people are Phebe and Ruby. I usually end up basking in the glory of the day with these two fools. Phebe and I just stare and laugh at Ruby, Ruby realizes that we are laughing with (not at...well sometimes) her so she does something else funny and really, the cycle continues. It's not so much a vicious cycle as an awesome cycle.

*Workouts. I know, many people shudder at this but I just love working out with Phebe. This time around, sadly, Phebe hurt her calf doing something crazy like soccer so she's sort of out of the same workouts that I'm doing. BUT, we did get to swim laps yesterday and she's really funny swimming laps. Every time she notices that we are going to be resting at the same time she looks at me with her capped goggled head and says, "wanna talk about something?" N0w, when Phebe says this, she doesn't actually have anything in mind to talk about, she's just putting out the invitation to chat and giggle. No, literally, we have some of our deepest conversations in caps goggles and bathing suits at one end of the pool. Yesterday we talked about how if you push off to start swimming while making fists, you literally feel like Superman for a couple of moments. So, I tried, and I will never go back to the boring, human way. It's Superman swimming from here on out. During the summer my motivation to come here usually has to do with races. Phebe and I participated in 7 triathlons last year and about half of them were in this area. I LOVE triathloning with Pheebs.

*Television. We watch a pretty darn good amount of television. When Ruby is napping or sleeping we'll light a fire and watch random TV. For awhile we were on a What Not to Wear kick, and if it wasn't on we didn't know what to do with ourselves. This time around, though, Phebe and I have been watching Modern Family during Ruby's naps. Then when Mom gets from from work we watch 24 for hours and hours. I said this in a facebook status recently but as much as I love Jack Bauer, I can't imagine being him because I would scream like a girl every minute of every day. That's a lot of screaming like a girl. Hence, my working as a teacher. No screaming there, just screaming in my head when I have to be in an IEP meeting or when my students spells "really" with only one 'l', AGAIN.

*My father's resourcefulness. I don't know WHEN filing for taxes is just going to make sense one day, but thus far, it just hasn't. WHAT is with all the different lines and ovals and numbers and questions that I don't understand? I'm being very vulnerable right now. I am not good at things that I should be good at by now. I've created the saying that everyone says in my house when the subject is intimidating or hard to something you don't want to deal with and that is "I don't want to talk about it." Let me give you an example: "Jaquelin, are you part of a teacher's union?" or "Jaquelin, are you putting money into your retirement fund?" or "Jaquelin, how much money do you allow in your budget for groceries?" or "Jaquelin, how big is your gas tank?" And I would say, in a heartbeat, "I don't want to talk about it." There. You get the idea, though, everything that is mature and that labels me as an adult, I don't want to talk about. What happened to the days of playing board games and giggling about knock knock jokes? When did it suddenly turn into car insurance and teacher unions? Oh, bother. Being an adult is hard. But wow, tangent. I'm saying that I appreciate my father and this knowledge for all things too mature for me to handle, or for me to want to handle. Don't get me wrong, I do what I have to do. But it doesn't mean I have to like it. I think I'll never get married and have children. Why? So I don't have to start filling out things like I have dependents and my spouse's social security number is blah blah blah. It's as easy as it'll get now. I'm single and my social security number is ...(haha gotcha there, stalker...what, you think I'm THAT immature and stupid? Please. I fill out my own tax forms cough cough with my cough father's cough cough help cough).

*My mother's precious and godly awesomeness. First of all, my mother's name is Arabella. You can't get any preciouser than that. But she follows through by having a precious personality. She is constantly reminding me of and encouraging me with my relationship with the Lord and while there are times I don't FEEL like I need reminding, it's always good to have that constant in my life. Ah, Mom, you ol' so and so! Hm. I wonder if my parents will mind that their bullet points came after television. Let me make an announcement, this is in no specific order.

OOH Pheebs and Rubes just pulled into the driveway. We have some nonsensical laughing and television watching to do. Maybe we'll go to Costco, too. Wild and crazy day planned for today.

Busy As a Beeee

So I've been busy. No, but I mean really really busy. If you were some character off the street seeing into my life last week (let's just pretend, because otherwise that would be really sketchy), here are some things you would see. After you saw these things, you would say to yourself, "whoa, that girl is really busy." Mm hm. That's what I thought.

*Work. I know, everyone does it. Stop complaining.

*Outside tutoring. Just 2 hours per week, but add the travel time and that's another 2 hours. So, as a hooded-sweatshirt wearing toe-toucher by night and a math teacher by day, I will do the math for you. Two plus two equals four. Four hours.

*Class on Wednesday. A friend lovingly calls it "hippie class" and I will lovingly borrow the term. This professor is someone, as another friend has mentioned before about someone else, who I could see going to Target with. She's really nice, really fun, has a pimped-out Jeep that fine I'm a little jealous of. She teaches classroom management. Wait, no, I mean she has us teach each other about the homework assignment we completed the week before. So far, class has pretty much consisted of 2+ hours of sitting and listening to everyone in class stand up and share their assignment. The first time we did that there were tears and cute thoughts. That was the day when she stood up afterward, remarked, "I'm in a happy place and I don't want to leave it" and followed that up by ripping up our agenda and sending us home. Don't get me wrong, I really really liked that because I enjoy time (gasp!) to myself. But I'd be livid if I had to pay for this course. That's an easy $2,000 right there, spent on listening to people talk about their pets and their deepest thoughts. Save it for a blog, right? Right. So this week, since that's what I'm talking about specifically, was sharing 5 important teaching characteristics we had come up with after speaking with another teacher. Lame. So lame that I didn't 100% understand it nor did I do it right. You're beloved slacker, right here:) Oh and PS, I'm not the only one who feels this way. In fact, another girl in the class sent out a Facebook invite to "Post group therapy class group therapy", to grab a drink afterward. Her message read, "Because our Management class is enough to drive anyone to drinking....." If I was a drinker and didn't have training to complete, I'd be there with bells on. BUT, this is a blog about being busy and alas, I'm too busy to take part in post-group therapy. I must do it through physical activity.

*But we'll get to that soon. Since we're still kind of on the subject of classes, let's move on to my next class of this past week (5-9 Friday night, 8:30-4:30 Saturday). Something about Phonetics, and the roots of the English language, blah blah blah. I take the blah blah blah back, I totally made it seem like I don't appreciate the English language. I mean, where would we be without it? We wouldn't be able to call people mature and tell people we loved them and blog and make people laugh. And this class IS really insightful to why, specifically, my kids make the spelling mistakes that they do. But OOH, this class put the "busy" in "busy bee" for me this week. The reading that this lady has us do is a little bit repulsive. Okay fine if I had managed my time a little better it would have gone smoother, but whatevs. It's ironic to me that both classes mentioned happen in the same building and I'm obviously taking them at the same time, and they are TOTALLY on the opposite side of the spectrum. One class is spent sharing and caring, the other class is spent racking your brain for the phonetic sign for the /a/ sound, taking about 766 quizzes per class, and using words like "fricative" and "alveolar". Ew.

*Okay, the biggest reason that suddenly my week was and oh wait the next at least 4 upcoming months are just going to consistently be crazy for me, triathlon training. I love it. I love it. I love it. I have a goal, I have a coach, I have an able body, and God's strength. Oh and I'm a morning person, which helps immensely with things like 5:30am hour-long bike rides in my living room before a full day of work and tutoring and class. And ironically, Coachy gave me an "easy" week this past week. The week I call "The Busy Week That Kicked My Butt Mercilessly". Awesome. This upcoming week is supposed to be the first of 3 hard strength weeks. BUT! I have no fricative class and next next week is Feb Vaca. So please, this week is gonna be like BUTTAH.

*Not really. But a little bit? No. Not really. Oh and also I was just put on a "dream team" for teaching Sunday school. It's a 4-week rotation and I've never done it before. But I'm part of a dream team so that in and of itself is enough for me to sprint to the sign-up sheet. Dream Team? Why wouldn't I take part? No but seriously, I'm excited because I'm sure the kids I teach are going to teach me more than I teach them. And I'm psyched to be used by God, for God.

Oh and I was so busy so that at the end of the week:

--My sink was filled to the brim with dishes.

--I ate out about 26 times.

--There was a paper clip in the middle of my walkway that I passed 93 times but didn't have enough time to pick it up.

--I haven't watched ANY of my weekly shows....Bachelor, Office, Modern Family, Parenthood, Glee...HULU MARATHON! When? Crap I don't know...there's no time!

--Never went to the grocery store to spend my weekly $75 when buying out the produce section.

--Didn't take out trash, recycling.

--There are to-do's absolutely positively LITTERING my kitchen table.

One of the best things about this week? When I read Psalm 62 and 63 one morning and God was like, "Yo! I got yo back!" (because He's ghetto, I suppose?)

Psalm 62: 1,2: "My soul finds rest in God alone; my salvation comes from him. He alone is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will never be shaken."

Psalm 63: 3-5: "Because your love is better than life, my lips will glorify you. I will praise you as long as I live, and in your name I will lift up my hands. My soul will be satisfied as with the richest of foods; with singing lips my mouth will praise you."

:)

Maturity--Awesome or Not?

Second time blogging in 3 days. How BOUT that, kids?

As I was heading home earlier tonight, I was thinking about the small table in my kitchen. Okay not so much the table itself, but all the crap that is on top of the table. I mean, gum wrappers and People magazine aside, there are a lot of bills and to-dos on there. I started to think about adulthood. I'm an adult I think (yes?), and I knew this immediately after I started to get bills in the mail. Remember when mail used to be semi-exciting? Like christmas time but year round, with fun snail mail and colorful envelopes? Well VSAC (represent student loans whoop whoop), Banknorth, VISA, National Grid, and there's more of course....they all got together and decided to make mail a drag for me. And let's face it, for you. What I'm trying to say is, there are many reasons maturity is a good thing. I mean, I'm always using the term, whether for a friend who has a really long job title or for a friend who is really good at decorating. So mature. That's a compliment, right? Wouldn't it be great if we could be mature without the mature responsibilities that come with it? E.g. bills?

Well whatev. There are some great things about being mature. There are some not great things about being mature. Here are some examples that I have for you to ponder.

Why maturity is kind of a bummer:

*Bills. Explanation not needed for a second time.

*Grocery shopping. Okay so comparable to others out there, I really don't mind grocery shopping. I mean, what's the purpose of grocery shopping? To get food!!! And food, my friends, is hands down one of my faves. Also, my theory is if you go to a really really busy grocery store; one that is NEVER quiet, say Market Basket in Danvers for example, you just have to have the right perspective before going in. Listen, I literally turn off the engine, give myself a pep talk to be patient and love like Jesus loves, and then I put my hands in the middle of the imaginary huddle, yell something like "intensity!" or "patience!" and I'm out the door. AND another key is to read a magazine in line. Because it always takes ages and ages. If you go to a grocery store that it NOT like that, congratulations, but how boring, right?

*Cars. You car is the kind of thing that is NOT appreciated when you have it and it's running like it should. BUT, the second it stops working, or something is missing, or it is hit, or it hits something, etc, etc, everything changes. Car insurance, popped tires, being put on hold for one reason or another, that freak-out feeling you get when the gas light is on, oil changes, the list goes on.

*Cuh-leaaannning. Oy. I need to learn a thing or two about cleaning. I'm really good at cleaning my plate. I'm good at cleaning my ice cream bowl. I'm good at cleaning my teeth, and I'm one to take showers. But cleaning my apt? I'm really good at doing dishes, after they pile up. That's about it. I am probably sulking when found cleaning. But it's just something you have to do if you want to be mature.

*You have to be professional at a job and keep a lot of your sarcastic and crazy personality pent inside. Like, there's a time and place for toe touches. Yes, I have been known to do a couple at the front of my math classes, but it's not like I can do it all day every day. Dagnabbit.

Why maturity is NOT a bummer:

*Pretty bookcases. Friends come over (I'm not mature enough to do this myself; let's not get too ahead of ourselves) because I have some pretty DARN mature friends that make my apt mature. My kitchen chairs and bookcase are suddenly works of art.

*Crock-pot. Do I need to say more? No. Maturity IS a crock pot. Especially ones that are lovingly named (mine's The Red Wonder, what's yours?).

*You can buy your own couch. And then call Gentle Giant, after paying them a million dollars too much, to have them bring it upstairs since you can't do it with the help of your father and mathematically-gifted friend. And then you can become big big fans of the great people at Gently Giant. No but seriously. I want to be a Gentle Giant groupie.

*Cute apt. You can have and pay for and love and adore your own cute apt. I fo sho have that covered. I love and adore my own cute apt.

So. Call it what you may. I mean, call it maturity, because that's what it is. But enjoy it, revel in it, and also sometimes shudder because of it. Because at the end of the day, if you're not mature and you don't take care of them, you will have a pile of bills, a magazine, and gum wrappers that need to be taken care of.

PS They are all still sitting on the kitchen table. And will probs be there until Sunday afternoon, my decidedly official get-things-done day for this week.

Friends Don't Let Friends Off the Hook When They Don't Skype for Ages and Ages

Hi. I'm going to say it again, like I've said it before, and like all of you have probably said it before too (unless you're superstars). Sorry I haven't blogged in ages. I appreciate your comments to me and appreciate your saving this site as a bookmark, and your hopes and prayers that I would start blogging again. So...cheers! Here's to trying it out, AGAIN.

There are a few reasons I can pinpoint that prevent me from blogging. Here they are.

1: I can never figure out what to write, even though my life is EXTREME. Let's face it. I should live every day wearing protective gear and be constantly aware of my surroundings. But I can still never figure out what to write. Here are just a couple of examples of extreme Jaq moments: put my cell phone through the washer/dryer, flushed newly-bought cell phone down the toilet less than a month later (still fresh in my mind) at work, my car got hit by my friend's SUV, I switched my car insurance to Geico, found a new church home, I hired a triathlon coach to help me train for my second half ironman in June, bought a crock pot which has since changed my life and her name is the Red Wonder....because she is red...and I guess I have decided she is female (?), I caught the bouquet at a friend's wedding, I moved into the best best best one-bedroom apt EVER, and I have made more than a couple of batches of cookies in hopes to not eat any batter or test them out...definitely all extreme events for me. But despite this, I can never settle on something to write about.

2: Facebook has ruined me. Not because I spend too much time on it (I'm not saying that I don't, though...), but because I have come to love and appreciate the immediate satisfaction of being "liked". You know, the cute little cartoon thumbs up sign next to the name of someone who has read your status, has an immediate connection with it or simply LOLs at it, followed by the words "likes this." Why do I have this sick satisfaction with seeing the thumbs up sign? Or the red notification sign at the top left of my screen? I like making people laugh and I like it that people are interested with what I have to say. Hence, why I started blogging. Some people have other reasons for their blogs. To show their lives with their precious babes (significant others and actual BABIES alike, but the latter was my original intention here...come to think of it the first one would make for a weird and possibly inappropriate blog). To share their latest recipes, or crafts, or lives in general. So here's the reason for #2. I am spoiled now with Facebook because I get instant gratification. Blogging, however, doesn't have the little red notification signs or the cartoon thumbs up. People can comment but com'n, let's face it, you probably don't comment. So. That was me being really vulnerable. Hello, my name is Jaquelin. And I like it when people like my statuses. No, but I really REALLY like it.

3. Things that I can imagine writing a lot about intimidate me. I found that towards the end of my latest blogging life, I kept writing a lot of random things. And I think this was, subconsciously, my quiet way out the blogging door. I think this is another way FB has ruined me as a blogger. FB requires you to use less than a certain amount of characters in your status, so you can't write a lot even if you wanted to. And I have lots and lots of characters in my thoughts, so....I'm forced to keep it to a minimum. For some reason, even though Mr. Blog allows all the characters you want, I just can't do it.

4. I'm going to just put it out there even though this is a silly reason. WHERE did all my time go? I have found recently that I don't have much time. Work, tutoring, church, 2 grad classes (and the tedious homework that comes with it....one of my assignments is to transcribe "One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish" to the phonetic alphabet or whatever...I never realized until this assignment how very long Dr. Seuss made his stories. Geez Louieeez), triathlon training, and watching the Bachelor. There's just no time. I know, lame excuse.

Okay, okay, enough with the excuses. I'll get better. Thanks for your encouragement. And thanks for being true friends who keep me accountable. Friends who don't let friends off the hook when they don't blog.

PS If you want to somehow research how to like a post with a cute thumbs up, and make notification thingies appear, by all means:)