something right.

Few things in life surprise me. Yes, I love surprise parties and I always appreciate a good "ta-da!" moment, but let's face it - it's hard to really shock and awe me at this point. I've most likely bought the shirt and seen the show, yada yada. But just when people had become all too predictable, the tables turned and some baggage shifted in flight.

Insert Metro Schools and 160 unruly 8th graders. It is no secret that this is my first year teaching. I have made several rookie mistakes and there have been days when I about lost my S on a student - that time I told a kid to tuck his shirt in and he called me a whore, or that time when I confronted a girl about her "F List" she had created and she told me flatly, "I will probably only do half of them"... that's enough, you see the trend. Honestly, the stories continue to shock me and I've been here all year. Anyways, so through all of this I have had the responsibility of actually teaching them something, including how to write a proper essay, on which they were given a huge assessment earlier this year. I taught them everything I knew, as well as I knew how and prayed for the best. I got the writing scores back this week and about lost it when I saw the numbers. It was a miracle, that's all I kept thinking as I looked at all the 4's and 5's (6 is the highest) next to all the names of my kids. Turns out, my kids have some of the highest scores in the district, and I shan't bore you with statistics but let me tell you, they are nothing short of a miracle. Just when I was wondering if I had made any impact on these kids, I realize that I did something right. My kids are just excited because I'm making cookies tomorrow.

Now insert a certain boy that has become apart of my recent, well and not so recent, life. It is a fact that timing is everything, and after communication and miscommunication we're just us, and it's just fine. Some people just have that hold on you, and you can't fight the feeling anymore. You're welcome for that classic rock reference. At the end of the day what's important is that you treat people well, that you love people for who they are and how you are when you're with them. For the lack of a better phrase, he's my brandy alexander. Sometimes a girl has to accept the surprises as they come and just roll with it. That's what keeps life interesting, right?

Oh, and I had my first spray tan experience yesterday. The tan lines are surprising, but wow, that's another conversation for another day.

XO

Stripper pole?

So it's getting to be about that time when less is more when it comes to clothing and more time is spent in swim attire than in tights. Ah, summer. Trust, I am counting down to the minute that I can sleep in until 8 and frolic all day, not to return to madison middle school and all these rude/smelly eighth graders for a couple months.

Now being a 20-something girl I of course want to be summer ready, so I decided to mix it up a bit in the fitness department and try Pure Barre. Inital reactions from the males in my life have included - "What kind of bar is this?" and "Stripper pole class?" and even an encouraging, "The pole can be tough." I have to admit, after taking out a small loan to pay for the 30 day unlimited package and special socks ($13 to be exact), I was pretty nervous to actually attend a class. Afterall, I had to buy special socks just to step in the studio.

So yesterday I went into the class with determination to dominate - I believe my exact wording was "Let's rock this B" - so I was feeling pretty good for the first 8 minutes or so during warm-ups and arms. I was keeping up with Kat Von D in front, my toes were pointed as they should be, and I was one with the small ball that I had to keep placed tightly between my inner thighs. Yes, I said inner thighs, and yes, I counted it a major accomplishment that I didn't let that sucker loose at all during class one! Next thing I knew it was time to do leg and bun work on the barre. Now I was initially excited to reconnect with my childhood ballerina self, sans pink tutu, but I quickly changed my tune when I could no longer feel anything other than every muscle in my body shaking from fatigue. After some stretches one could only relate to tantric sex, the class was over. I was exhausted.

Today I can barely feel my arms and have suddenly become acutely aware of every back muscle I possess. I kind of love it. A love/hate relationship this may be, pure barre and I. It's 30 days - anything can happen.

Oh boo.

So a famous blonde once said that a smart girl kisses but doesn't love and leaves before she is left. I don't guess I'm as smart as I originally thought.

Here's to the silence. And keeping myself busy.

easter and us.

So this year I decided to gracefully bow out of the whole family Easter bit and took a small road trip out of Nashville with two wonderfully hilarious guys and an overnight bag. Sunday we all woke up with plenty of time for coffee and a sentimental stop at the local Hardees, and then we were in the car making the gorgeous drive to a sweet little church miles away from everything. To cut to the chase, we ended up missing the church service completely thanks to some confusion in start time. After we lost our S for a moment - we were in our Easter best and had driven down to experience Easter service there - we resolved to spend the day outside, which proved to be a spiritual experience of its own.

We made the short drive to the buffalo river and walked down to the water. There we were, the three of us, I in my cotton sundress and the two of them in their pressed khakis, looking out at this perfect creation. I didn't say much. I was taking in every moment of every thing. Taking off my wedges and tip-toeing into the water. Watching the three of us look like a J.Crew ad, wading in the river fully clothed in our church clothes. Laughing at him as he threatened to throw me in, smiling at me like he meant it.

It was perfect.

From there we went to a waterfall in natchez trace - I seriously felt like I was on the most excellent grown-up field trip. I didn't even complain when I was slipping and sliding in my rainbows nor did I worry when I was anything but ladylike while climbing around to get closer to the waterfall. Sure, I might have gotten mud all over me and yes, my legs were sore the next day, but for that afternoon, everything was calm.

We rode back to Nashville with the windows down and the radio off.

I soaked the whole picture up from the passenger side.

Gaga ooh la la.

I went to the Lady Gaga concert. Enough said.

paint in hair.

I am in no shape, form or fashion an artist, nor am I a painter. I don't even try to pretend - I mastered the stick figure at age 5 and have not progressed much further. I might have drawn a house or something in a required art class but obviously that was not my forte. Now ask me to write a song and I'll have something to you in an hour, and I'll most likely be proud of it. Ask me to walk around the Frist or the Art Institute and discuss emotions and the history of paintings and sculptures and I am in 100%. Just don't ask me to make art of my own - it has always ended in a premature ending or a small disaster.

However, I would like to make it known that at age 24, I have created art. Or something like it. Ash and I were antiquing in Franklin for her new place with the Hubs and we went into one of my favorites - Lulu. I instantly fell in love with a painting of a sweet little phrase, which later my boyfriend, Google, told me was an Irish proverb. The price tag read way too much for something I assumed I could attempt to create myself, so I snapped a quick photo while Ash created a diversion. Such rebels we are. OH brother, I know. So after a trip to hobby lobby and a quick stencil tutorial from the master, I was ready to begin creating my masterpiece. We turned on Mumford & Sons, set up camp in the big room and just went with it - I am certain I have not concentrated on something so hard for so long. To everyone's amazement, I didn't take any breaks. I didn't start yelling four letter words when I almost misspelled the word "oftener" in stencil and paint. I stuck with it. I conquered that B of a canvas, and 3, ok 4, hours later...it was finished. FACT: I had more paint in my hair and on my legs than on the finished product. I was so proud.

Sure, it's not perfect, but I love that about it. Imperfections make art approachable and lovable. Hell, imperfections make people approachable and lovable. Feel free to quote me on that.