Monday, November 28, 2011

A little of this, some of that, a gripe, and other such stuff...

How's that for a blog post title?

:)

So.  My Thanksgiving was pretty much what I expected that it would be.  Me and miss raven.  Football.  And, um, yeah.  That's it.

I did cook some turkey tenderloin and I selflessly allowed the grocery store to prepare my stuffing and vegetable side dish.  I bought a single roll and a pumpkin donut for dessert.

Oh how it sucks to be single sometimes.

miss raven wasn't complaining though, as she made out pretty well with some turkey and major mommy-snuggle time.

I did not go shopping on Black Friday unless you count the "shopping" that I did online.  I love you Bath and Body bag and Old Navy.  I was too "blah" to feel like braving the crowds.  Well.  That is one reason.  The other reason is that, as I age, I get less and less tolerant of stupidity.  You know what I mean.

I'm turning in to a grouchy old woman.  Crazy cat lady.  Minus the cats.

It was nice to have some time off of school but I did (honestly) miss my students.  It was nice to see them today.  Most of them.  And I think we all know who was absent today.  For the FIFTEENTH time.

The Cowboys beat the redskins again.  Oh wait.  I think I blogged about that last Tuesday.  Sorry.  Hehehe.  I did enjoy typing it again, though.  ;o)

(miss raven is currently VERY determined to get under the heated throw covering my legs.  she succeeded.  Now my legs are clawed up.  Someone needs their toenails clipped and it isn't me.  she is now licking my legs to make up for the clawing she just inflicted.)

The Cowboys also won on Thanksgiving Day.  Which of course made me thankful.  They beat the Dolphins (barely).  Tonight the giants play the Saints.  Go Saints.

It seems as if every time I turn around someone else I know is pregnant.  Do you know how tired I am of that?  My uterus wastes an egg (or more) every month and everyone else I know is getting pregnant.  How is this fair considering that, whenever I was asked what I wanted to be when I grew up I always said "A Mommy" first and then "A teacher" second?  How is it that those awful Bridezillas can find someone to marry them and I can't even get a freaking date?  I need a moratorium from pregnant women.  Seriously.  I don't want to hear about one more pregnant woman at work or on Facebook or anywhere else.  It isn't that I'm not happy for them; I'm just tired of it ALWAYS being everyone else but me.

Ugh.  Sorry for the rant.  I just can't stand it sometimes.

Anyway.  I need to get going because I decided (and please refrain from telling me how idiotic I was for doing this) to make every one of my students a scarf this year for Christmas.  I figured (somewhere in my tiny little brain) that it would be better than buying them something cheap that would break (or get lost) before they even got home for Christmas break.  I completed seven over the weekend and am trying to get one done every night this week.  Wish me luck!

3 comments:

  1. LOVE the post title! :o)
    HATE HATE HATE that you spent Thanksgiving by your self! :o( I wish that...well you know...could have been here, could have gone shopping too! (messed everything up by moving...sorry...but live is finally good after soooo long!) I did miss you terribly!!!! AND YOU ARE N-O-T A CRAZY OLD CAT LADY (MINUS THE CATS) You are one AWSOME person and best friend and auntie and teacher!!!!!!!
    Rant away dear BFF!!!! Wish that I could fix that for you!!!!
    Did I mention that you are one AWSOME teacher????? You can do it! :o)
    IMISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSYOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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  2. I cannot believe that child has been absent for 15 DAYS! WOW! That is ridiculous. I'm sooooo sorry you were alone on Thanksgiving :( Hopefully, that will never happen again. Great idea on the scarves! I have no doubt you will finish them in time. Your a wiz at crocheting! No doubt you've got enough yarn to do it too! LOL!

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  3. Love the new look of the blog. And your scarf idea is awesome! The kids and their parents will love it and remember it for many years.

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