Whenever I see those big cardboard boxes overflowing with pumpkins (as are popular at all grocery stores this month) I think, “How exhausting!” Carving pumpkins….why? Slimy, yucky, pointless. *yawn*
You can imagine my surprise, then, when I walked up to my grocery store this morning and I just had to buy some pumpkins to carve. Go figure. A mysterious bout of pumpkin domesticity.
While I’m confessing to weird sins…I’m going to be absolutely worthless at work tomorrow because I stayed up too late watching Hocus Pocus. Good grief.
I don’t know what’s worse–that I have to ask my long suffering hubby to do a “head check”….or that he knows how to do it.
I’ve been working, working, working…
…and now it’s finished! Well, not really. I still have to make it into a pillow. I really have no idea how to do that.
I’m making the Downton Pillow for our school nurse. Normally I wouldn’t put this much into a coworker’s Christmas present, but she always gets me little gifts. After four years, it’s time for me to make more of an effort. Granted, this was kind of a huge effort, but I needed the distraction from my new found anxiety. Works pretty well and is better than Zoloft, right?
Anyhow, had to share, because I’m kinda proud.
Please note Mr. Bates and his wee little cane. It’s my favorite part.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that Picture Day must fall during the week of the worst complexion of your adult life.
Tomorrow is Picture Day.
Take heart, one of the perks of being an Assistant Principal is disobedience. I shall not have my picture taken tomorrow. I shall not.
Because having my picture taken means squatting on some tiny kiddie stool (praying it doesn’t break) while some wretched Picture Lady tries to coax you into saying “money” like you haven’t yet mastered the fine art of smiling. Just take the damn picture please. It’s just going to end up in the trash, anyway. All this with the next class of kids staring at you perched on the stool, swearing under your breath. It’s just not a pretty sight.
When you are disgruntled and embarrassed like that, every comment is translated into an insult. “You look pretty in your picture, Miss” becomes, “You and all your chins look pretty in the picture, Miss. The light of the camera really reflected nicely off that chin hair you missed during this mornings tweezings.”
I’ll take the gamble on Picture Make-up Day in the spring. The complexion could go either way. Yeah. I like to live on the edge.
I look like a troll.
I am delightfully unprepared for my morning meeting (and teachers….they can tell…)
I spilled markers all over my desk looking, in vain, for one pen that actually works.
But then….I found this really stinking awesome pen in the back of my desk….
And I decided it’s going to be a fabulous day!
While I feel terrible for the tiny little things….I’d rather hummingbirds than bats.
And, as a bonus, I didn’t step on this one.
Pictures are not coming. I hope you understand.
Cast of Characters:
AP (exhausted assistant principal)
The scene opens with a frenzied AP hearing the details of the sixth office referral for the day.
AP: “What do you mean…you urinated on him?”
Student: “It was an accident.”
AP: “I’m sorry, what?? How could that be an accident?”
Student: I was laughing. I lost control of it. It was an accident, I swear!”
AP: “You were 4 1/2 feet away! You hit him in the chest!”
Student: “I was laughing really hard…”
We don’t play Red Rover anymore. When you think about it, there’s no way to get through that game without some level of injury.
While we can’t wrap students in bubble wrap to send them out to recess, we do make great efforts to avoid bruises and broken bones.
This here has been dubbed “The Red Wheel of Death” by our faculty.
Try as we do, we just can’t keep the little tykes off of it! They take a running leap and fling themselves around, but the force is just too great…kids flying everywhere.
You’ll be glad to know, after I planted that mental image, that we are having “The Red Wheel of Death” removed.
***Please note: we have not actually had any fatalities. Teachers do like to exaggerate, you know.
The wee little ones return to school tomorrow….
Have worked every weekend for three weeks! I’m not alone, though. The custodian beat me there yesterday–power washing the sidewalks at 6:50 on a Saturday morning. Craziness! Tile guys were replacing cracked hallway tiles. I resisted the urge to say, “You know…you kinda had all summer to do that…”
Last weekend I was painting banners welcoming the teachers back. I’m wishing I had painted a banner or two for our widdle kiddies. Darn! I’d have to drive out there….. Should I or shouldn’t I? I just don’t know!
Meanwhile, as if we couldn’t tell from all the white hairs…I’m getting old! The offspring starts high school on Monday. High School! I feel faint…
His is the shiny sooosa instrument on the left. You may have to squint. He’s the best marchy guy on his row, if I do say so myself.