I knew I was an NBC snob for a reason! (Meaning, I usually, for reasons unknown to myself, find myself watching TV shows that are only on that network).

First, The Biggest Loser, which, I must say, almost always makes me cry. The Biggest Loser is socially responsible. It gives hope to people who might otherwise have lost hope. Shoot, it gives hope to me that I might someday fit into those jeans I wore in high school, lol! But hey, I can't complain, the earrings I wore in high school still fit! The bra doesn't...but, that's a good thing! (Did I go too far on that last one?!?!)

Then, last night, I was privy to the TV show School Pride...another show that brought me to tears. Another show that is socially responsible. In this day and age, teachers are villainized, put-down. It's atrocious! School Pride showed how much the teachers care for and love their students...not to mention how much time they put into the classroom (or into the library, cafeteria, football field, music room...). It is atrocious that our society does not respect teachers more.

Another thing I find interesting...I hear parents complaining about the education system of the United States (you see it on the news, you hear a lot about it with this being election season) and it always makes me wonder, do those parents believe the school, classroom, teacher, where they send their child is a part of the problem, too? Hmmm...I'm thinking not.

The only thing School Pride was missing was how the higher-ups in education, who have usually never been in a classroom teaching, treat teachers. Sometimes, they are the biggest non-supporters of teachers. How hypocritical is that?!?!

The only other thing School Pride was missing was how those higher-ups in education change curriculum on teachers every year, every other year, etc. Parents, when do you expect teachers to learn that new curriculum? Just curious. Do you know what their contracted hours are? My contracted hours are 8am-12pm & 1pm-5pm...I'm not a teacher. Parents, do you think I stay at work until 7:30pm or even 8pm? No, I don't. I leave when my contracted hours are up. Parents, do you think teachers have that luxury? Not the good ones. And, trust me, there are substantially more good ones than not.

There's a lot that goes into teaching that the average Joe is unaware of.

Oh, and one more thing, if you can read this...if your kids can read this, THANK A TEACHER!

I SAID GOOD DAY!

It's the Simple things

1. For the first time in my life I went to see a movie, in a big movie theater, all by myself. And, I will have you know, it was quite a comforting experience.

2. One Sunday I had a 2 hour and 40 minute telephone conversation. The only thing better than that would have been a face to face conversation. When I got off the phone I felt like I had woken up from a much needed nap. The type of nap where you wake up not even realizing at first that you had fallen asleep. The type of nap where you wake up hot and sweaty because you slept so good. The type of nap where you wake up happy, peaceful and refreshed because your body really, really needed the rest. The type of nap where you wake up feeling recharged, rejuvenated...and all from a 2 hour and 40 minute telephone conversation.

5. One piece of evidence (out of millions) that I have the greatest friends in the world: I got a text message from my friend informing me that on football game days we will have food that is in theme with the teams. For example, if the Philadelphia Eagles play, we will have Philly cheese steak sandwiches. My friend then informed me that when tuberculosis is playing, in his and his team's honor, we will have lil' weenies!

Ahhh, I love it!

6. If you don't know who I am referring to when I refer to tuberculosis, you are better off, trust me.

7. Dave and I made a bet to see who could go the longest with out cussing. The winner would get sixty bucks. The price of a video game, for him. The price of a massage, for me. By the end of the night, we had both lost the bet! I tell no lie! It was probably a good thing we both lost the bet because we became do-it-yourselfers very shortly after that bet was made...I want you to know that I use the term 'we' very, very loosley. I just had to write the checks. Which was very, very painful. The end result, though...we now have green grass instead of brown dirt in our back yard! Whoop-whoop!

Part of me thinks I would of rather had a massage!

Why I Don't Cook Part 6,423

The other evening Dave and I were making spaghetti. He calls it goulash. I call it spaghetti. Just FYI.

We make spagoulash like every other American family. I buy a big ol' jar of Prego (traditional, of course), ground turkey and whole wheat pasta.

What?

Every American family doesn't make spagoulash that way?

Pish-posh!

The ground turkey was browned to perfection and the noodles had just been drained. At this juncture in our cooking extravaganza I informed Dave that I had this under control, I got it, I did not need his help and he could go sit down (I'm such a good cook I don't like people watching me. Yea, that's it...)

I got a lil' cocky.

I'm the daughter of a fighter pilot, it happens.

The noodles were back in the pot and I picked up the frying pan to dump the ground turkey in with the pasta. I gently tipped the frying pan on it's side, over the pot of noodles and then, with my black plastic spatula that has a corner missing because I once tried to use it to flip a pancake in a frying pan, thus melting the plastic, I began pushing the ground turkey towards the edge of the frying pan.

I had planned on the ground turkey falling gracefully into the hot pot of noodles.

I had not planned on the ground turkey going all over the stove, under the burner, down the front of the oven and all over the kitchen floor.

CRAP, I thought. Crap, Crap, CRAP! I could feel Dave's eyes rolling behind me.

I cringed as I began to hear him speak.

"You don't have finesse. You strong arm everything when you cook."

And then he chuckled.

Finesse? FINESSE? I've known Dave for ten years. In ten years, Dave has never once uttered the word finesse. Finesse is the type of word that I expect to hear from a male hair dresser whose wardrobe and shoes are far superior to mine...not from my husband...describing the reason for my kitchen catastrophes!

Lack finesse...

Hmmm...sigh...yep, I guess I do, lack finesse, but... only when it comes to cooking, baby!

I then preceded to laugh at my husband for using the word finesse. Wide-eyed and innocent he acted astonished by my amusement and he informed me that he indeed has quite a large vocabulary and that he is not 'eyegnorant'! Ahhh, victory was mine again! And, I will have you know, my 'strong arm' came in very handy when picking up all of the spilled ground turkey and his 'eyegnorance' didn't help a bit!

A Happy Soul

Have you ever felt like you were on the right track amidst a sea of uncertainty? That's pretty much how I feel on a daily basis what with the new job and all.

I decided awhile ago to take a class that peaked my interest. The class will be on Thursday nights for nine months...big commitment! Especially since I am working ten hour days (plus Saturdays) and my mind is just plain beat!

Last Thursday, September 9, was the first class. I was stoked all day about attending...until about 5 PM when the tiredness hit! To make the temptation of giving up on this class even worse, Thursday was the first football game of the season and none other than Mr. Brett Favre's team would be playing. Oh how I love Brett Favre!

I began the internal debate of beginning a new class or watching football. Class or football, class or football??? Then, I discovered the class was a two hour class! OMG! Two hours?!?! I didn't know if I could make it! But, through the helpful advice of family, I decided to give it a shot and see if it was something I would be interested in continuing.

Best piece of advice I've ever been given, folks! (Well, accept for all those other times I've needed great advice!) I went to class and this is what strikes me as funny: I always forget that I am shy! And, boy, am I shy! I hate going into situations where I don't know a lot of people! I always forget this about myself because normally, I am not in situations where I don't know a lot of people. At my old job, I used to give presentations, and it never bothered me, talking in front of groups, presenting. But, you put me in a room with strangers where I have to interact and put my best personal, not professional, foot forward, I clam up big time!

So, imagine my surprise as I approach the parking lot and begin to get 'the' nervous tummy. The parking lot is full! Darn-it! I want to leave. But, I don't. As I am walking towards the classroom my inner voice keeps telling me to turn around, go back to the truck, go home and watch the football game in the comfort of my own living room.

I suck it, put on my proverbial 'big girl panties' and walk into the class, which for me, is one big sea of uncomfortable as there are a ton of people. The class is set up so everyone has to sit at a round table, you HAVEto interact with strangers, you can't just sit in the back of the room and blend in..."CRAPOLA", is what I'm thinking. Luckily, my grandpa attended the class with me and he found two available.

I just hate that! Walking into a room and there not being any open chairs! At college I was so neurotic about not having a place to sit, I got to my classes AT LEAST thirty minutes early! So, imagine my college horror when I didn't have thirty minutes between classes! Yes, I ate a lot of TUMS! :)

ANYWAY, my Papa finds us two spots and he strikes up conversation. Which is a relief to me for two reasons. The first being, he is a pro at striking up conversation and perfectly comfortable doing so. Second, he's my Papa, he has white hair, he can pretty much do or say anything and get away with it because of his age; so, basically, I'm safe, nothing embarrassing can happen to me.

I make it through the class and the 'ice-breaker' exercises that force you to get to know people. For the record, I think 'ice-breaker' exercises are next dumbest thing invented next to TB jerseys!

Throughout the class, I became thoroughly involved, and was really enjoying it. I felt excited about this new endeavor. I felt content. I felt peace. I felt exhilaration.

I felt as though my soul was excited and happy. My soul was doing back flips and giving the proverbial 'high-five.' No joke. I felt on track. Who knew how reassuring that could be.

I don't know how to properly honor or pay tribute on this day.

I do know that I believe it is important to remember.

I remember.

I don't know if I feel this strongly because I remember this day like it was yesterday and the thought of this day, the memories, still brings tears to my eyes.

I don't know if I feel this strongly because I think about 9-11 a lot.

I don't know if I feel this strongly because I am an Air Force brat and I love this country, our troops, and civilians who strive to make this country a better, stronger and safer place.

But, I do know, that it is important to remember, no matter how sad, out of respect for those who died.

I have the freedom to type this with out persecution.

You have the freedom to type/post/say whatever the heck you want with out persecution.

God Bless America!

I remember.

...and I'm still angry at the bastards who did what they did...

I remember, for those who lost their lives so they weren't lost in vain. It's a small thing; but, it's better than nothing.

I remember...for you...I remember

My DELISH Sunday

Last weekend was the type of weekend that all folks who work Monday through Friday dream about...it was a THREE DAY WEEKEND! Whoo-hoo! Crack open a bottle of champagne!

My Sunday began as one of the most perfect Sunday's in the world!

This year, for whatever reason, I have been on a "Pretty Woman," kick. When I have time to watch a DVD I pick, you guessed it, "Pretty Woman." When I catch it on TV, the world stops evolving, the tables don't get dusted, the floors don't get vacuumed, my clothes don't get put away. All I do is snuggle up on my comfy red microfiber couch and indulge in the entertainment that is "Pretty Woman."

So, Sunday morning, at the ripe ol' hour of 11:30AM, I drag myself out of bed, make my way to my red, over-sized, over-stuffed microfiber chair, grab the remote control and turn on the TV. There is a message on the TV. It reads something like, "This film has been formatted from it's original version. It has been formatted to fit the screen of your TV, yadda-yadda-yadda."

I thought, "Hmmm...did I leave a DVD in last night?" I can't remember...

Then, the screen changes and the Touchtone pictures' emblem slides across the TV.

"Could it be," I anxiously wondered...

AND IT WAS!

"Pretty Woman," was just beginning! I was in Heaven...this Sunday was going to be PERFECT! I just knew it!

Well, as most of you know, tis the season of football! Whoo-hoo! It's my favorite season! But, there is one thing that I don't love about football. Actually, it's one person. And, if you know me, you know who that person is and as much as it pains me, physically causes me pain, to type his name here on MY BLOG, I feel I have to, to let you know who I am referring to, in case you don't follow my football ramblings.

His name is tom brady.

I don't capitalize his name because I don't think he deserves it.

I just vomited in my mouth a little. Just from having to type that loathsome name.

So, imagine my horror, disgust, shock when a commercial comes on in the middle of my movie featuring none other that the big scum sucking baby himself, TB...coincidentally, the same initials as the communicable disease, Tuberculosis. Hmmmm, go figure.

The worse part is, this person, TB (I can capitalize his initials because they are a communicable disease) is now a spokesperson for my cable company!

OH FOR SHAME!

Comcast doesn't know it yet, but they made a big mistake...big...huge! I just might switch cable companies!

The movie starts again and I calm myself down and get lost in the world of rich, handsome businessmen who sweep women off their feet. Then, my phone rings. It's my Grandma. We start talking football, of course, tis the season. I happen to mention my favorite player on the Miami Dolphins.

That's when my Grandma hit me with a blow. The kind of blow that needs to come from a grandparent or one won't be able to take it, one's world will come crashing down and fall apart.

My favorite player on the Miami Dolphins, Jason Taylor, has...

*sniff, sniff* I can't bear to type it...

...has left the Dolphins and now plays for the NY Jets!

OH FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS SACRED IN NFL FOOTBALL, LAWSIE MERCY, I HAVE A FREAKEN MIAMI DOLPHIN JASON TAYLOR JERSEY, WHAT IN THE H-E-DOUBLE-HOCKEY-STICKS AM I GOING TO DO WITH THAT NOW? HOW COULD HE DO THIS TO ME?

My grandma hung up on me.

No, not really, it was pretty much an estrogen cry fest after that.

To cheer both of us up, I informed her that our glorious Dolphins would be playing Monday night football on Oct 4 and I wanted her and whoever else wanted to watch it, to come to my house for game night. To confirm I was correct about the October 4th date, I went to espn.com to check it out.

Just when I thought the day couldn't possibly get any worse, when I clicked the link for the Monday night October 4 football game, I was taken to a page that had guess-who's big, ugly mug staring right at me?!?!

Did you guess TB?

UGH.

TB was trying to taint my perfect Sunday. I was all kaflootzed. I made my way to the freezer. When I opened the door, let me tell you, the clouds parted, angels began singing, and a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup Polar Swirl sat waiting underneath the prettiest spot-light you've ever seen.

I snatched the ice-cream goodness out of the freezer, curled up in my red over-sized, over-stuffed microfiber chair and immersed myself in the world that is "Pretty Woman," forgetting all of my football woes.

The world would be a happy, happy place for another few hours.

ARE YOU READY FOR SOME FOOTBALL?!?!?!?!

The effects of 'dieting,' or rather, 'healthy lifestyle changes'

Before I knew I was getting laid off I bought myself some beautiful, spectacular bedroom furniture!

And a couch.

And a chair.

And a coffee table.

And an end table.

And another end table.

And a painting.

And another painting.

Shoot.

I think I have a problem.

It's called compulsive spending.

I must go now. I have a date with Suze Orman. It's more like a beating. She is going to beat my spending desire right out of me. I'll let you know how it goes...maybe you should try it sometime.

Oh, I forgot! My spending got cured when I got laid off!

Hmmm, but, I had to go and get another job...

I needed new clothes for my new job. So I bought a pair of jeans...

And another pair of jeans.

And another pair of jeans.

And a shirt.

And another shirt.

And a pair of shoes.

And another pair of shoes.

And, oh let's just keep this simple, I bought 2 more pair of shoes...and one more shirt...and luggage...and a purse....

Crap, I think I need to keep that date with Suze Orman.

I'm gonna have bruises...the emotional kind...sigh...Calgon, take me away!

*Certain spendings may have been exaggerated for entertainment purposes.

**Guilty bloggers may write side-notes that are lies to ease their conscience.