We are snowed in here in Georgia. At first it was powdery and how cute it is we thought. Ray tried to sled down a hill but she weighed too little (how I wish I had the problem) so I ended up pulling her like a Budweiser Clydesdale.
This morning we woke to a slick sheen of ice that covered the snow. Zack the Collie raced down the deck stairs only to try to use the bathroom while sliding across the backyard. He managed to create a Jackson Pollack painting using nothing but snow, hair and well, pee.
So I leave y'all with a line(s)from another winter horror story....
All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Warning: Never, ever make the blue jean fairy mad at you.
Never, ever make the blue jean fairy mad at you.
Recently the school that I teach at allowed the staff to wear blue jeans all week. Normally, I'd jump on that like a chocolate eclair but my poor deflated balloon belly has expanded. And I don't mean just a tiny bit. The last time an expansion like this was seen was during the Lousiana Purchase.
Well, because of this growth, I'm unable to fit into most of my blue jeans. I am down to five pairs of jeans--all in varying stages of wear.
Monday: I pull out of the garage and hear a large POP. Wesley jumps out of V-ger (for those who don't know about V-ger, it is my beautiful silver Dodge Avenger) and tells me that I ran over a can of green spray paint. I look at him and Wesley immediately denies using and leaving the can out. I get out and am drenched in Krylon Hunter Green. V-ger and Wesley escape unpainted. Adios Blue Jeans #1.
Tuesday: I bend over to tie one of my student's shoes when another POP. The button of Blue Jeans #2 shoots out and beans my student in the head. The resulting fit causes half the school to poke their heads out their doors just in time to see me hold my pants up in hand and the student in the other. Bon jour, Blue Jeans #2
Wednesday: It's pajama day. Although I am wearing my new pajamas, one of my students take delight in pulling the waist string to test its' strength. The string lasted an hour. I pull my emergency blue jeans out only to discover a huge rip down the backside. For a moment I consider wearing it but in the end, I staple the pajamas together and stay away from the children. Ciao, Blue Jeans #3.
Thursday: Cleaning a classroom is a full time job--especially during outbreaks of strep, flu, measles, colds and pink eye. And I excel at wiping down Legos, tables and children. Apparently keeping my jeans away from the bleach cleaner is also a full time job but I suck at it. Blue jeans #4 is now dotted with bleach down my right leg. Sayanora, Blue Jeans #4.
Friday: Blue Jeans #5 is my last pair. This pair manages to stay together all day but only because it was hot glued at the zipper. Aloha, Blue Jeans #5
Personally I don't think there is a blue jean fairy but a mad conspiracy by clothing companies to drive me insane.
Recently the school that I teach at allowed the staff to wear blue jeans all week. Normally, I'd jump on that like a chocolate eclair but my poor deflated balloon belly has expanded. And I don't mean just a tiny bit. The last time an expansion like this was seen was during the Lousiana Purchase.
Well, because of this growth, I'm unable to fit into most of my blue jeans. I am down to five pairs of jeans--all in varying stages of wear.
Monday: I pull out of the garage and hear a large POP. Wesley jumps out of V-ger (for those who don't know about V-ger, it is my beautiful silver Dodge Avenger) and tells me that I ran over a can of green spray paint. I look at him and Wesley immediately denies using and leaving the can out. I get out and am drenched in Krylon Hunter Green. V-ger and Wesley escape unpainted. Adios Blue Jeans #1.
Tuesday: I bend over to tie one of my student's shoes when another POP. The button of Blue Jeans #2 shoots out and beans my student in the head. The resulting fit causes half the school to poke their heads out their doors just in time to see me hold my pants up in hand and the student in the other. Bon jour, Blue Jeans #2
Wednesday: It's pajama day. Although I am wearing my new pajamas, one of my students take delight in pulling the waist string to test its' strength. The string lasted an hour. I pull my emergency blue jeans out only to discover a huge rip down the backside. For a moment I consider wearing it but in the end, I staple the pajamas together and stay away from the children. Ciao, Blue Jeans #3.
Thursday: Cleaning a classroom is a full time job--especially during outbreaks of strep, flu, measles, colds and pink eye. And I excel at wiping down Legos, tables and children. Apparently keeping my jeans away from the bleach cleaner is also a full time job but I suck at it. Blue jeans #4 is now dotted with bleach down my right leg. Sayanora, Blue Jeans #4.
Friday: Blue Jeans #5 is my last pair. This pair manages to stay together all day but only because it was hot glued at the zipper. Aloha, Blue Jeans #5
Personally I don't think there is a blue jean fairy but a mad conspiracy by clothing companies to drive me insane.
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