Starbucks Shenanigans

I warned you that the blogging would be light while we're home in Wisconsin... and I'm nothing if not good on my word. Today is our last full day in the cheese state, so hopefully this week, things will be back to normal around here, with lots of my postings and rantings.

To finish up our air travel here, I promised a Starbucks story. We all know I've become a bit of a coffee snob. I like my tall, non-fat, no whip mocha from Starbucks, and other mochas just don't cut it. They don't have the same dark chocolate flavor that I've come to crave, and frankly, I can't observe non-Bux baristas and know if they're making my drink up to standards (whereas I now torture Sbux employees by hovering near the handoff counter to make certain that they add the milk to the espresso shots within the required 10 seconds - so the shots don't burn and taste bitter). Anyway, NavyGuy and I had arrived at the Minneapolis airport after our first leg of the trip from Seattle. It was 5:30am central time, which meant it felt like 3:30 in the morning to me. And I hadn't slept. And I was cranky.

We exit the airplane, and immediately see a 'Bux. Our next flight boards in about thirty minutes, and is conveniently in a different far-away terminal. So what would you do in this instance?

Let's pretend this is a Choose Your Own Adventure Book - I loved those as a kid. So you've come to the bottom of the page, and you have two options:

Option A: Get your mocha from the Starbucks directly in front of you. It could be a stressful rush to your next flight, but you'd be assured of your caffeine.

Option B: Go directly to the next terminal where your flight is, and then search for a 'Bux. This option guarantees you'll be on time for boarding, but there's a slight risk the other terminal may be Sbux-less.

As you can probably guess from the title, NavyGuy encouraged Option B, while I pleaded (to no avail) for Option A.

We chose the wrong option, and like an adventure book, came to the last page in the story very quickly. The entire walk over to our next terminal I whined, moaned, threatened NavyGuy with certain death, and generally played the obnoxious wife, should we arrive at our next gate without nary a Starbucks in sight. And of course, our terminal had none. There was a Caribou Coffee, but by this point, I had gotten worked up enough that nothing - NOTHING - short of my Starbucks mocha was going to satisfy me. And it wouldn't have been such an issue had we NOT PASSED RIGHT BY ONE AND HAD SOMEONE LISTENED TO HIS WIFE WHO'S ALWAYS RIGHT!!!!!

NavyGuy offered to go get me anything in the current terminal, but by now I had joined the Hall of Fame of passive aggressive women and was playing the martyr as if I were up for an Oscar. The "no, I'm fine" game, wherein I'm anything but fine. Finally he gave up and let me sit there stewing in my crankiness.

With about twenty minutes until boarding, I decided to take matters into my own hands. Glaringly, I grabbed my purse, stared down NavyGuy, and said, "I'm going for coffee." He looked bewildered but knew better than to try and reason with me at this point.

I started off, having decided on secret Option C - find a different 'Sbux somewhere and get my mocha! Well, by the time I power-walked through half the Minneapolis airport and found a random 'Bux, I was sweating so profusely I had to settle for an iced mocha, and do a walk-sprint back to the gate so we could board the plane. NavyGuy thought I had run all the way back to the original store, and merely shook his head at my pigheadedness determination as we boarded our flight to Milwaukee.

All's well that end's well, but an important lesson was learned that early morning in Minnesota - do not tangle or cross a sleep-deprived NavyWife... and go to the first Starbucks you come across!

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SSB

Sex in the City fans out there might remember this acronym. It comes up in a discussion about living with a boy, and it stands for "secret single behavior." It's the stuff girls do (or, guys I guess, but it seems like girls have more of this kind of weirdness) when they live alone, or when their significant other is gone. In honor of my two week singledom, I thought I'd let you guys in on a few of the SSBs that have been going on around here in NavyGuy's absence...

*There may or may not be dinners consisting of microwave popcorn, Diet Mt. Dew, and ice cream sandwich(es).

*I definitely have taken over his side of the bed... with my stuff. Whenever he's gone (and really, for years before him) I'd use the empty space on the other side of the bed as my additional nightstand space. Since my actual nightstand is overflowing with water glasses, cell phone, books, hair tie, extra hair tie, current book, lamp, etc., it's helpful to have his side of the bed to keep additional reading materials (magazines that I'm too lazy to go put back in a decorative box intended for their storage), sundry remote controls, the house phone (wise to have a backup phone nearby in case an intruder manages to startle me and I knock my cell phone off my nightstand and it falls too far underneath my bed for me to retrieve it and dial 911...), extra pen and paper... and the list goes on and on. It's always a bit of an adjustment when NavyGuy returns and I have to figure out how to re-cram everything onto my nightstand again. (But don't worry dear, I'd much rather have you on that side of the bed than my remotes... I think...)

*There's a chance that I've spent a bit of time rewatching Glee episodes on Hulu, and/or singing along with the songs... at the top of my lungs... working my Mariah hands... and learning the dance moves.

*I snooze. I mean, I literally set my alarm for thirty to 45 minutes before I need to even think about getting up, just so I can hit the alarm clock and go back to sleep. NavyGuy hates my alarm clock and wakes up at the drop of a hat, so I try not to do it when he's around. But I just love it. I know, it's really weird. But I fall right back asleep and it's so nice to wake up, oh wait, nope! Don't have to get up yet!

Alright ladies - spill! What crazy secret single behavior are you ready to let out of the closet?

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Oh, Thursday.

~ Spent today subbing for the fifth grade. The afternoon included a field trip where we walked to a nearby park and monitored the children playing for two hours. One child called some younger children at the park names that I cannot say here or my mom would wash my mouth out with soap. Another child managed to get her foot stuck in a piece of playground equipment. Thank goodness I wore my tennis shoes (and carry Excedrin in my teacher bag).

~ Had my eye appointment to deal with the stye. No progress. Doc thinks I need to keep putting warm compresses on it until I lose my patience, and then I can call him back and he'll "remove it." He explained the procedure of "removing it," and I think I'll be trying the warm compresses for a bit longer.

~ Arrived home to find our dining room full of packages from my MIL - the wedding gifts we opened in Wisconsin after the wedding are now back in our possession! Well, they're in the boxes, in our house (and if I don't get up any more energy tonight, that's where they'll be staying).

~ NavyGuy is at a simulator event until at least eight. So now the question becomes, do I get up off the comfy bed and make myself some dinner, or just wait until he comes home and see if he'll drive into town for pizza...? I'm getting kinda hungry, but I'm also really comfy. NavyGuy will be tired when he gets home, and unlikely to want to go back into town for food... but his only meal options if he eats here are a sandwich or leftovers. It's a toss-up.

Subbing again tomorrow. The annual "Fun Run" is on the docket for the morning, so here's hoping everyone arrives at the finish line... without leaving any limbs behind in playground equipment...

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I Will Not Accept This Blasphemy

I know you peeps out in the blogosphere don't know what I sound like. So you'll just have to trust me when I say that I do NOT have an accent. I sound just like any normal midwestern person you hear on the radio or television giving you the weather report. My speech is not peppered with "ehs" or "uf-dahs" or long, misprounced vowels.

So imagine my shock today, when a sophomore who a) knew nothing about me, b) had been in my presence for all of 87 seconds, and c) had barely been listening to me give the directions for her Peter the Great worksheet, thrust her hand into the air, and confidently asked, "Yo, are you from Wisconsin?"

Eh?!?!? Huh?!?! Suh wha?!?!? Oh no she did not just. Turns out this little sophomore is "real good at accents" (but apparently, is not good at grammar), and having listened to me speak for all of 87 seconds, immediately pegged me as a true Wisconsinite. I proudly confirmed my heritage, but could not get over the fact that I was so easily outed! Seriously - people who know me in real life - am I that transparent? (And Miss A, your opinion SOOOOO does not count, as you think anyone east of the Rocky Mountains has an accent.)

Oh, the rest of the sub job was fine. Apparently, Wisconsin still garners some respect around here.

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Brevity is a Sign of Genius

So I think I've figured out my wedding vows. While driving around with NavyGuy today, Kelly Clarkson's latest ditty came on the radio, and I was struck with inspiration:




No? Too blunt? I thought maybe the guests would appreciate my succinctness...

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Do I Sound Like Dory?

~ Ramon, 8th grader that I subbed for yesterday, told me halfway through the day that my voice sounded like Dory. As in the fish from Finding Nemo. He assured me it was a compliment.

~ A rabid parent accosted me during lunch, expecting that I would know where her absent daughter's make-up work packet could be located in the tornado aftermath of a classroom in which I was subbing. Apparently, her daughter had been out for several days and the classroom teacher had agreed to create a packet of makeup work for her to complete before the end of the quarter (which was the following day). I talked mom down off the ledge and pacified her by sending her home with a textbook and the promise of a strongly worded note to the classroom teacher.

~ 8th grade boys are obsessed with what type of music you like. Then they like to tell you the specific bands they like (all of which have semi-inappropriate names that you've never heard of).

~ Somehow I attract the classroom teachers who delight in leaving sub plans saying some variation on, "Well, they should work on this worksheet for a bit, but I doubt they'll stay on task. They'll probably just screw around most of the day." Yesterday's lesson plan expected 13 year-olds to research a constitutional issue online (with no guiding questions or worksheet to complete) for 90 minutes. Uh, yeah, no. Not gonna happen. I spent the majority of the day watching kids hack into illegal websites, google fat people, and play odd games that all revolved around people dying and the entire screen turning red.

I'm taking today off to recover from the reminder that the future is doomed.

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Surely.

Surely... NavyGuy would not call me half hour after he left with the boys to go out in downtown Oak Harbor, asking me to deliver Marine #1's forgotten wallet - a thirty minute drive from home.

Surely... my wonderful fiance would not call me at 1:30am and wake me up from a deep sleep.

Surely... NavyGuy would not proceed to ask me to put on clothes, go out in the rain, and drive down to Oak Harbor (reminder, thirty minutes away) to pick him up from a night of drinking with the boys.

Surely... my thoughtful man would not call me en route and try to put drunkity-drunk drunk Marine #1 on the phone to give me directions to the house at which half the group has disappeared to.

Surely... NavyGuy would not have me pick him up on a street corner in downtown Oak Harbor like some kind of drifter.

Surely... my love and partner in life would not ask me to then drive to a second location to rescue Marines #1 and 2, plus a new straggler I've dubed "Curry Boy" for forthcoming reasons.

Surely... NavyGuy would not try to kiss me with his whiskey sodden lips!

Surely... NavyGuy and the three blasted amigos in the backseat would not sing, chatter, yell, fart, burp, attempt to engage in conversation, and/or step on my Nalgene bottles in the backseat the entire thirty minute ride home.

Surely... my fabulous fiance would intervene when Marine #3 - Curry Boy - spends half of the ride telling me of his love for curry and his interest in my tomato curry chicken recipe and his thoughts on whether Caribbean curry is better than other varieties.

Surely... NavyGuy would not do any of these things, as he is mature, responsible, kind, and wise enough to know the serious retribution that would result from the above events.

Surely... this is not how I spent my Saturday night (early Sunday morning).

Surely.

Surely.

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I've Never Hated Reading So Much...

Today was the kind of sub job I'd been dreading. Was it because...

a) it involved teaching advanced algebra?
b) the children were heinous monsters intent on torturing me?
c) the day involved recess duty?
d) all of the above?

Ha! It was secret option e... a completely unrealistic lesson plan for squirrely twelve year-olds!

Oh yes, here's what I was expected to do with the sixth graders. From 9:30-12:00, they were to read. That's it. Read a book, magazine, etc. Apparently, it was "read-in" day (whatever made-up elementary school boo-hockey that is), and the children were bringing in pillows, blankets, and stuff animals to curl up with all day while reading. Seriously? What twelve year old can spend 2 1/2 hours reading? I'm a bookworm adult and that time length is pushing it. Even better, the afternoon was to be spent either continuing to read, or playing board games. The classroom teacher had one copy of Sorry, several games of chess (yeah right), and a deck of cards.

By 10:15, I was ready to stab several of them. The kids were allowed to snack while "reading" and I 'bout lost my mind. Several of the girls decided to build a fort out of their blankets and desks (they at least then sat under it quietly reading), whereas the boys had more fun climbing into each other's sleeping bags, and hitting each other with the reading pillows. I sent them all outside for mandatory recess twice, and forced a writing assignment on them for the last 45 minutes of the day because my head was throbbing and it was the only thing I could think of to get them into their desks for some of the day. Of course, the one day I didn't bring any extra wordsearches or time-filling worksheets is the day that I could have used them!!

Worst lesson plan to leave for a sub ever. And, honestly, an irritating waste of a day. True, I read an entire young adult fiction book in the morning, but aren't American children falling behind the rest of the world in academics? How is lying around pretending to read a good use of school time? I know for certain the class spent last Friday on an un-educational ice skating field trip, and now another wasted day spent eating Valentine's Day candy and giving their sub a headache. I understand elementary school is different than high school, but still - come on! This shiznit would not fly in my elementary school!

Ugh. I'm going to go drink some more and NOT read anything.

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Rockslides and messed up blizzards...

As the federal government has decided that the best way to celebrate Martin Luther King Jr.'s legacy is to stop people from working or learning (or getting mail), I had no subbing opportunities today, and NavyGuy had no rockets to learn. It has been decent weather here the past few days (despite the "air stagnation" warnings - say huh?), but we're stir-crazy regardless. Too much time spent in the house with the Marines. Our solution for this yesterday was to take a hike near the lake by our house. As always, I started out gungho about the adventure, but twenty minutes in had to use the little girls' room (which is NOT, nor will EVER BE, out of doors), and by the end was exhausted, doubled over, grasping the back of NavyGuy's jacket, hoping his momentum would help pull me up the hill to our house (for those of you who are wondering, no, there weren't any accidents).

Clearly in no mood for another hike today, we opted to head north and check out the Bellingham mall and surrounding stores. Long story short - the route home on South I-5 was down to one lane because of a rockslide. A rockslide! Good grief. Luckily, NavyGuy whipped out his trusty Blackberry Storm, and while I was in my new rubber stamping Mecca*, he found an alternative - though slightly longer - route that would avoid the traffic (and, you know, the rocks).

The other blight on my day was the fact that Dairy Queen jacked up my blizzard! Hello!?! I said OREO. And you repeated OREO back to me. How did my order of an OREO blizzard somehow magically end up in my car as an M&M blizzard? Of course, I didn't check the blizzard until we were back on the highway so it was a lost cause. I know, I know. "Oh, poor little unemployed girl had to choke down M&Ms instead of Oreos in her blizzard today... cry me a river." Well you know what - those M&Ms get too cold in the ice cream and they hurt my teeth! And I almost died in a rockslide! (And this is when NavyGuy usually starts to tune out my exagerrated ranting, so feel free to move on if you'd like.)

Not much else to report on the Washington front. Must go rest up for the big to-do tomorrow!

*I'm in big trouble. Big, big trouble. How much crafting money do you think I could get for a kidney?

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Do I Have to Tell People I Live Here?

And just when I was starting to be a grown-up and accept my new home state...

Court Okays Sex Between Teachers, 18 Year Olds

Next they'll probably argue that this is in lieu of a pay raise.

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