The ABQ So Far. . .

So, I've been here in Albuquerque since Saturday night.  After a turbulent couple of plane rides (seriously, I had my barf bag ready to go) that included free wine and many a honey-roasted peanut, I finally made it.

 Coming in for landing near the Sandia Mountains.

The only bad thing about arriving in Albuquerque was that I had to bid adieu to my two plane buddies, Vincent the estate lawyer and Steve the science teacher.  If you're in the last group to board the plane and you must sit between two strangers, well, it doesn't get much better than a 61-year old lover of tech gadgets who listens to Slate podcasts and a fellow teacher who bumps around the country in his Volkswagon camper during breaks from school.

From left: Vincent, a very swollen Mandy (I look like a tick!), and Steve.

Since being here I've eaten about seven times as much as a normal human should, but I've somehow avoided becoming too drunk and obnoxious.

This sandwich was much larger and much more delicious than I anticipated.

I drove a brand new car.

Uncle Greg's new ride.

And I learned to make Grandma's Famous Corn Fritters (recipe coming soon). 

I met a woman named Punkin (not the one from Flavor of Love).

And I've had lots of time to relax with my grandparents, and learn more about their lives and to talk and chat and kvetch and laugh.  It's been pretty swell, if I do say so myself.

Oh, and the altitude is killing me a wee bit.  Apparently, because Albuquerque is 6,000 feet above sea level, it's a little tough to breathe for us sea-level dwellers.  So I've been a little tired.  Actually, it could be the altitude, or it could be the fact that I'm basically a sloth.  Shoot.

Oh, also, I packed kind of haphazardly because I might have consumed too much wine on Friday night.  And in my frenzied Saturday morning packing, I forgot to bring my anti-frizz hair stuff.  I figured I'd just buy some at a store once I arrived.  But--BUT!--I don't have to, because Albuquerque has like zero percent humidity.  So I'll basically have soft Pantene-commerical movie star hair for the duration of the visit.  Shoot yeah!

Side note:

I made Grandma and Grandpa take the Myers Brigg personality test.  Grandma is an ESFJ, and Grandpa is an ESTJ.  Basically, they're just one letter away from being the same person!  I am an ENTJ, which means that I'm just one letter away from being him, and it's not all that surprising.  I mean, we even have matching shoes.

Oh, and I'm not sure where to fit this in, but was Granpa a looker or what?  (He's the one in the middle.)

Well, we're off for more sightseeing and eating and shopping.  Hope you're enjoying your Monday!

I'm Now a Hipster.

You know what's awesome?  When your friend's feet grow as a result of being pregnant with her third baby.  Well, that's not awesome for her.*  But it is awesome for you when that friend used to wear the same size shoe that you do, and when she then passes funky fresh footwear your way.

 Meet my new New Balances.  (Seriously, I've been in love with the way New Balance shoes look since my freshman year of college, when they had those gray/navy shoes with the yellow N on them.  Becky had a pair and I had serious shoe envy, until I tried them on and realized that New Balance shoes didn't fit my feet right.  I have high-arched, toes-spread-out feet that prefer Nike.  And Nike shoes are not nearly as pretty to me as New Balances.**) 

I'm in love with them, and they're super comfortable, too!

Now I'm going to go start my own farm and listen to funky music and wear skinny jeans and ditch my car for a bike or roller skates or something.

*But what is awesome for her is that now she has an excuse to go buy more shoes.

**Or, as Matt explains, "quite the tale of woe."***

***This, coming from someone who claims to have had a traumatic childhood because the Buffalo Bills lost all of those Super Bowls in a row.

Dr. Scholl's Fast Flats

This is not okay.



Will you be purchasing these ($10 for disposable shoes!) during your next Target visit?

This and That

1. Just finished watching True Blood.  I'm about ready for Sookie to get offed.
2. Brett Favre is such a drama queen!  This is why I broke up with him a few years ago.  Well, the drama queen thing and the way he just couldn't seem to make a decision.
3. Matt and I have been pro-baby for two full weeks.  That could be a record.  Understand, though, that I'm about to head back to school, and there's nothing like a classroom full of ninth graders to make a person anti-baby.
4. Thunderstorms = awesome.  Especially because I can cross off "water hydrangeas" from my to do list without having to go outside.
5. We went back to B. Matthews for brunch today, since last week's experience had been so incredible.  And guess what?  It sucked.  The food and service were lackluster.  Do we chaulk that up to a bad day for the restaurant, or is it just hit or miss at B. Matthews?  Savannah people, any thoughts?
6. I'm headed back to work tomorrow morning, which I'm actually pretty excited about.  This will be my fifth year teaching (how did that happen?), and I don't think I've ever been this eager to get back.  (I am, however, decidedly less excited about being to school at 7:15 every morning.)  In preparation for the coming year, I have:
1. Bought new pants.
2. Bought new shoes.
3. Bought new anti-frizz hair stuff so that maybe I will blow dry my hair for work and go to school looking like a real girl, not a hobo in a cardigan.
4. Bought a mini refrigerator. (Cost $50.  Will save me $90 over the course of one year.)
5. Bought a microwave. (Cost $29.  Decided that the refrigerator paid for it.)
6. Made a big to-do list of things to do tomorrow. (Two pages long!)
7. Refrained from drinking wine tonight. (Also, Georgia doesn't sell wine on Sundays.)
8. Thought a lot about how to tweak my American Literature class. (Less Puritan garbage, more Vonnegut?  Can I swing that?)
9. Set out my clothes for tomorrow.  (More of the hobo look since it's just pre-planning week.)  Also packed my school bag and set that out for tomorrow morning. (That's where my water bottle and missing sunglasses were hiding!)
10. Finished this blog post early so that I can get to bed and be at school at 7:15. 

Happy week to you!

Multitasking

Remember when I found and bought my dream shoes last week?  Well, there was a minor hiccup.  See, I wear a size 8.5, and the shoes were only available in an 8 or a 9.5.  I decided to go the half size down, since the heels were 3.5 inches and I didn't want to be unstable when walking around.  I even went and found another pair of peep toe slingbacks that were the same brand and tried those on to see if my toes could handle a smaller size.  My toes said that, yes, they could handle the smaller size.  My brain said that the smaller size would mean we were putting safety first, since I would be so much more stable.  (Let go of these pretty green shoes last year because I felt like I would fall down when I wore them.) 

I'll tell you one thing.  My toes and my brain are leading me on a path to destruction!

When the shoes arrived I wore them around the house to break them in.  And it was during that time (perhaps while I was wearing them whilst vacuuming?--how very 1950's!) that I realized that if I wanted to both wear these shoes and continue to have toes, I would need to find a way to stretch them out.

After a little bit of research on the interwebs, I decided to go with my favorite plan, filling the shoes with ziploc bags of water and putting them in the freezer.  The idea was that the water would expand when frozen, and it would stretch out my shoes.  Well, I couldn't even figure out how to make that happen.  Matt walked into the kitchen while I was trying to shove a freezer bag of water into these peep toe slingbacks, and just shook his head and walked away. 

And then, a stroke of brilliance.

Multitasking.

And it seems to be working!  I mean, is Matt really annoyed every time he goes to change the channel?  Yes.  But is it hilarious to watch Matt change the channel while holding a pretty shoe?  Hell yes. 

Click, click, click.

Isn't it the best when you search and search for something specific, and then you finally find it?

Recently, I've been on the hunt for a peep toe, slingback pump, one that's not too tall, that's black but not patent leather or snakeskin or anything else that might make people mistake me for some kind of hooker.

Ta-da!

And only $30!  Between the shoes and the mini-fridge I just purchased for the classroom, I'm getting pretty excited about school starting.

Shoe Messages

I need these, don't I?  They're all, "I'm your teacher.  Sit down.  Do your work.  Learn.  I wear tough shoes.  My shoes might as well be combat boots."

Or do I need these?

You know, sensible teacher shoes that say, "I'm sassy and fun, and I get pedicures.  But, seriously, sit down and do your work.  You're driving me BANANAS!"

That's fun. But so are these.

These are fantastic!  "Hi, I'm your new English teacher, but I moonlight as a prostitue."**  Plus, I could wear them with a suit, or with booty shorts. 

I think we've found a winner.  What do you think?

**For the record, I do not moonlight as a prostitute.  That was a joke, Grandma.

Purple Patent Leather Pumps!

This weekend has been super busy and stressful, but I did manage to find time to swing by my local TJMaxx in an attempt to find some [more] new school shoes. (Yeah, the shoe quest has become a bit of a problem. But since I don't do drugs or steal, I'll hang on to this vice.) I found these. They're not quite as garish as the ones I wanted a few weeks back, but they're still obnoxious and sassy. Perfect.

(What do I love more? New shoes? Or alliteration?)

Look how shiny!

Tomorrow begins the second semester of the school year, and we all know what that means, right? HALF WAY TO SUMMER! WOOOO-HOOOO!

Right now things are looking good. Big project is complete, laundry is done and folded, Matt's cleaning the house tomorrow and cooking dinner. (Matt plays Betty Homemaker on Mondays when he has the day off and I have work and a class afterward.)

This week we're looking forward to Mitch's 6th birthday, another visit by his dog friend Reilly, at attempt at Martha's adaptation of Julia's beouf Bourguignonne (I still don't know how to say it), the premiere of the final season of Lost (tell me what those damned numbers mean already!), relaxing for a minute, and then hosting a Superbowl party. And maybe I'll even do our taxes. Eh, that might be pushing it.

What do you have planned for this week?

New Shoes!

The time has come for me to buy more new shoes for school. The other day I was sitting at my desk and smelled a terrible odor. And then I realized. . . it was my feet. My shoes stink, and I need new ones.

So this afternoon I braved the mall (hoping that all of the Savannahians would be at church), and walked into Aldo, one of those stores that intimidates me with its music and stylish employees. It didn't help my cause that I was wearing a bright red sweater and hot pink flip flops, the kind that you wear in the shower in a college dorm. Is colorblindness contagious? Oh well. I didn't go to Aldo to make friends; I went to buy some shoes. And I wanted to buy these.


But I thought better of it, and bought these instead. They were only $30!

But I should go back and buy the purple ones, right? Right?

Following Directions

What is wrong with this picture?

If you said, "there's dessert left on the plate" you're correct.

Tonight Cassie came over for dinner, and since her birthday was last week and we couldn't be with her since she moved to a land far far away, I thought we'd do a small birthday celebration tonight. So I decided to try out a recipe I've been eyeballing, Pioneer Woman's Molten Chocolate Cake. Mmmmmm, chocolate and molten and Cool Whip? How could it go wrong?

Plus, look at Pioneer Woman's gorgeous picture of the finished product. (I love me a good picture of food.)

And, to be fair, mine didn't look that much different. They looked nice, they smelled nice. But their flavor was just blah. They were sweet, sure. But they weren't terribly chocolately, and if I'm making a dessert named "MOLTEN CHOCOLATE CAKE" I want it to be chocolatey. I was sorely disappointed. So was Cassie. We didn't even eat all of them, that's how mediocre they were. "What a sham that Pioneer Woman is!" I thought to myself.

Of course, there's a catch. Here I am, talking shit about Pioneer Woman's recipes when the real problem is me and my ability to follow directions. (It drives Matt crazy. Granted, Matt is a man who measures the water and uses a timer when he makes ramen noodles. He hates my refusal to follow directions and my constant insistance that "It's fine.") My printed out recipe called for "4 pieces (squares) semi-sweet baking chocolate." Somehow I interpreted that as two squares, which was 4 pieces of baking chocolate that were rectangular. How did I get through high school? I got an A in geometry! (And if we're keeping score, this is the second Pioneer Woman food-making endeavor that has gone awry because of my lack of intelligence.)

I didn't realize my mistake until I was writing this post, when I deemed it necessary to double check to make sure that the mistake was on Pioneer Woman's end and not mine. I actually re-read the recipe (something I should have done in the first place). I had put in only half of the chocolate. I suppose it's only natural, then, that my cakes wouldn't have been chocolately enough. Hmph.

Of course. Of course. What is wrong with me? Why don't I understand basic shapes or instructions? I shouldn't be allowed to teach human children, or animal children for that matter.

Oh well.

Moving on, I have noticed that too many of my recent posts have been negative in nature, so I want to add that I decided on some shoes and ordered them (only $21!) and they came today. They're gorgeous and as comfortable as heels are going to be. Now I'm not dreading the fast-approaching school year as much because I know I'll be wearing these beauties.

I'm even considering ordering them in red, for test days or other days that I want to channel the Wicked Witch of the East.

I will think twice, though, before publicly mocking students for failure to follow directions, even if I'm wearing the red shoes.

Shoe Selection

Since a $625 pair of Christian Louboutin's is not in the cards for me, I've been looking elsewhere for a new pair of shoes for school. I already have lots of black shoes, and I pretty much wear only black to school (which is why my students often believe that 1.) I was a goth kid in high school and 2.) I am dangerous). Nine West seems to have some fun options right now, and I need your input about which pair I should choose. I've narrowed it down to the following:

I need your opinions. Pros? Cons? Other suggestions?

A shoe search only reveals creepy baby dolls.

This month's issue of Real Simple features this photo of these shoes, and I cannot stop thinking about them. I want these to be the shoes that provide the evil teacher click, click, click as I walk around my classroom next school year. I even had a dream that I found them and wore them to school.

I've been looking all over the interwebs and the inside of the magazine to see who makes the shoes and where I might be able to buy them. (Truth be told, they're probably far too expensive and uncomfortable to make my shoe dream come true, but I WANT them. My desire for these shoes is a perfect example of a need vs. a want, and I'm not sure I'd have a husband anymore if I spent a small fortune on shoes I'd never wear.)

Refusing to listen to common sense, I continue to search for the designer of these shoes. I googled the photographer's name, Burcu Avsar, but it was a bit of a dead end. Only a bit, though, because I came across a really interesting project of hers where she photographs old toys. Avsar's beautiful explanation of the project will do little to keep me from having bad dreams about this creepfest below, probably because of my history with baby dolls.

Wow, are baby dolls creepy!

Back in college, my roommates and I would throw huge Halloween parties. My roommate Paxton would begin decorating the house about a month in advance. The decorations were always fantastic, and Paxton was definitely a details kind of guy. He constructed a tree from branches that he'd dragged home, he carved intricate details in pumpkins, he found beer pong ping pong balls that looked like eyeballs. The decorations were just incredible, but our least expensive decorations ended up being the scariest.

Paxton and I went to a thrift store and spent about $3 on old gross baby dolls. We took them home, tore them apart, threw on some fake blood, duct tape, and thumbtacks. Then we hung the dolls and doll limbs and doll heads from the ceiling.

Of all of the frightening decorations--even the fog machine in the grate that would hiss every few minutes and look amazing--those creepy babies were the most memorable. I can't look at Avsar's gorgeous pictures of old toys without having vivid memories of the baby doll whose mouth was duct taped, who later became our Christmas tree topper. That same baby doll did come to life and murder one of our roommates, which may further explain why I find baby dolls a bit on the scary side.

Oh, and if you can find out where I can find those pretty pretty turquoise shoes you win in life.