Birthday Presents

Fashionably Lonely

Ben will be back from Korea a week from Sunday (March 9, 2008). I think I'm going to make one of those preschool chains that I can rip a rung off each day.

I got a double dose of phone calls. Ben was able to call back on my birthday, and we chatted for about an hour and a half.

Last night he called again, woohoo! I had already been laughing pretty hard, but oh mama, can he make me laugh.

I can't wait to have my buddyboy back, but I'm glad he's enjoying himself and embracing the armyness.

My Dear Little Sister's Adventures

1. Practice

2. "Are you okay?"

3. Belly Slide

4. "Ow. It's like a real fall 'cause I kind of got hurt."

5. Weather School

Story Time

Last Saturday, I wanted to go to the early morning spinning class, and Em wanted to go too, but that morning as she lay in her warm/toasty bed, she changed her mind. I took my time to make myself an appropriate breakfast, and I checked my e-mail ... wahoo! E-mail from Ben! So by the time I finally made it to the gym, the spinning class had been going for about ten minutes. I really didn't want to walk in late, and have all eyes on me as I struggled to drag the bike around to squeeze into place in the tight circle.

So I lifted really hard and I was really efficient because hardly any of the older people were using the machines or free weights. But then when it came time to use the treadmills, they were all taken. (P.S. There was a really short older guy, and he kept eyeing me, and I did not like it. I know I'm short, but on first glance is it a "Holy crap! She is SHORT!" reaction?)

I waited behind a lady as she strolled along on the treadmill, she was working on her cooldown, and I kid you not, she was walking at mach negative 2 mph. It made it seem like I was waiting forever as I watched her hardly walk. Not now! I really had to go the bathroom, and I was in a dilemma. Go to the bathroom/lose my place in line? Don't go to the bathroom/run in discomfort?

I chose not to go to the bathroom, so I hopped on the machine and quickly decided to crank out one mile as fast as I could go, and then I could reward myself by going to the bathroom. I kept increasing speed, and I'd gone 1/2 a mile in 4 minutes (that's good for me), and I had to go. There was no postponing. I paused my machine, evil-eyed the old guys, daring them to take over, and sped walk to the bathrooms. I love walking after you've been on a treadmill, it feels like you're speed walking to the max.

Out of the two stalls, I chose the mini one, sat down, and thought to myself, "Whooo, I feel a little ... "

Blackness.

I remember thinking, "James would not approve of the position I'm sleeping in," and I came to with the top of my head pushed up on the side wall right, the toilet paper dispenser staring me in the face. Thankfully, I was still sitting on the toilet, my neck was just at a funny angle. "What the, I don't remember ... " I had totally passed out. Then I was worried because I didn't know what to do, should I call my mom and dad? Should I tell someone here at the gym?

I must have passed out because I was running so hard, and then I just completely stopped. Then I was so thankful that I came to because what if someone had to find me, and I was pants-down on the toilet, resting like those little kids who fall asleep when they're going to the bathroom?

I kept thinking about my handball coach Herm who always laid into us about warming up and cooling down and about his story about Jim Fixx. Jim was in tip-top shape, he was a marathoner. One day he was out running, and he stopped at a street corner because the light was red, he passed out, and died. It was because he was running hard, and suddenly just stopped. I kept thinking, "I almost Jim Fixxed myself at the gym."

I re-enacted my passing out adventure for Dra, then my mom, then Em. Dra was hesitant to follow me in the bathroom, "I don't want to see!" she thought it was going to be a gross story. My mom was sick with worry, and Em laughed and laughed. My dad was really sick, so I just told him about it, and he gave me advice. He's had a lot of experience with passing out.

Birthday Blues

My biggest birthday present was that I got to suffer through our second night of Parent Teacher Conferences. I've slept over at my parent's two nights in a row because they live right by my school, and with parent teacher conferences and the early morning math tutoring that I do, my schedule is 6:45 A.M. to 8:15 P.M. Wahoo. Before I left for school, I noticed a rad red coat hanging up in my mom's room. Guaranteed that's mine. So I took the plastic off, cut off the tags, and wore it to school. Later that night, my mom cooed about how great it looked, "You found your coat! I didn't wrap any of your presents, did you find the rest?" Frowny face. No. I didn't go treasure hunting for my presents. A treasure hunt would have been great though.

Ben's in Korea with the army right now, and we've only had e-mail contact. During a lull when I had no line, I ran out into the hall to check my messages because there was a strange number, and Mr./Mrs. Stranger had left a message. Of course I got my hopes up which is not a rare occurrence. My message was in and out, and I was frantic as I kept walking from wall to wall, trying to find a good spot in the basement of our school. Dear, sweet, custodian Bruce laughed at me, held my shoulders, and walked me to a good spot in the hallway. As soon as I recognized Benjamima's voice leaving me a sweet birthday message, I literally stomped my foot. It was way too dramatic. My lip got quivery, and I'll admit it, tears were on their way. Stupid parent teacher conferences.

My dad always sends me flowers, but not this birthday. It felt like my entire family was shrugging. "Amy's birthday? Oh. Eh." Last year they sent a singing gorilla to my school.







So I thought for sure that when I rolled into my parent's later that night, there would be some sort of excitement. Nothing. Was I supposed to ask for my birthday presents? I did not understand the situation that I was in. Plus, my Grandma Bateman never called me. She ALWAYS calls super early and belts Happy Birthday in her sweet old lady sing-song voice.

Em eventually wandered up from the basement, and she asked what I got for my birthday. Nothing. She laughed really hard, realized I wasn't joking, and upped her laughter. "Stay right here," she assured me. She brought down a cute purse that has little trucks on it, and inside were red shoes. I love them. Good ol' Em saved my birthday. She and I went to the store and she bought us some Girl Scout Cookie ice cream. Delish. My dad managed to finish the whole thing in less than 24 hours. Not joking.

The next day on the announcements, my Geometry boy, Peter Hansen, wished me a happy birthday, one day too late. He and another SBO, Edward, found out at parent teacher conferences. I was bent over, totalling my parent visits, when I hear a whispered version of the birthday song drifting from behind me. They were softly singing to me, and I thought it was because they didn't want to let everyone else in the gym know. "No. We sang to Mrs. Gainer's mom, and Mrs. McCallum yelled at us because we were being 'obnoxious and loud'." After Peter's shout out on the announcements, all day long I listened to my little dears, "Why didn't you tell us?! I would have brought something." Maybe I should have told them. It sure would have cheered me up at school.

One of my geometry classes asked how old I was."Twenty whopping six," I replied."Whoa! Are you sad?" What? No, I'm not sad. I should have had them guess how old I was. I think they were shocked in a, "That's older than I thought" way. Hopefully at least.

A lot of kids told me that it was either their birthday too, or their brother's or sister's or mom's ... It's crazy how many people share my birthday. Is it selfish that I kind of hated having to share my birthday?

My perfect Valentine's Day flowers.

I had to stay at my parents' with Em since they were in St. George, and on the morning of the 14th, I was dragging my feet as I got ready for school. I had to be there an hour early because I do early morning math tutoring. Extra gag.

Hark, the phone rang at about 6:30 A.M. It had been snowing all night ... nuts, it was for my dad. But then success: My phone rang and it was dear sweet Maggie Jensen. School wasn't cancelled, however, we didn't have to be there until 9:50 A.M.! I ran and woke up little Emily and told her to turn off her alarm.

So I lounged, unfortunately, I couldn't go back to sleep, but it was heaven. At about 7:55 A.M. my phone rang again, and it was Eastmont. Uh ... oh ...
"Are you planning on coming in today?"
"Yes," I immediately started stammering, "but I was told not to come in until, I mean I was still going to come in a little early, I'm sorry, I was told..."
So I pouted and stomped and got to school at about 8:45 A.M. I adjusted all of my plans and turned it into a computer day up in the library. I had my class in there working on the computers, and then Jim, one of our vice principals, asked if he could send another class in because the teacher hadn't shown up yet. So I had two classes in there, they were doubled up on the computers, and some spilled over on to the empty tables.
Steve, the librarian, and I stood in the hall and reminded kids that they were supposed to be in class. Amazing, you're at school and wow, you're supposed to be in class.
Towards the end of the period, I was trying to round everyone up, make sure that all chairs were pushed in and such, and in marches my principal with a huge vase of pink tulips.
"Somebody loves Ms. Bateman!" she sang.
My cute 9th grade geometry boys, Peter Hansen and Ryan Head, bounced out of their chairs with, "It's me! It's me!"
It was adorable.

Good Day/Bad Day

Goodness:


1. I suckered a librarian into giving me a library card.


James told me about the book The Road by Cormac McCarthy. He liked it a lot, but he admitted he liked No Country for Old Men loads more. I navigated around the library, found the McCarthy fiction section, but neither of these two books smiled back at me from the shelf. Nuts!

There was a giant of a boy shuffling next to me; I had to step out into the aisle so that he could pass through. Seriously. But he wasn't just some boy, he was shelving books. It was a Christmas miracle, he slowly put back Road!


2. I attended my first spinning class.


I've never adventured into the land of spinning, call me crazy, but it's true.
This morning at 7:15 A.M. I took the plunge. I hate going to a class where things are assumed. I wasn't exactly sure what to do, so I spied on others the entire time. I pulled out one of the yellow bikes into our circle, and started to "warm up." Even with the seat all the way down, I was totally high-crotching myself, and there was no way that I could do that for an hour. So I heaved that one back against the wall, and drug a blue bike out. Perfect, it didn't have any pedals. So then I maneuvered another blue bike into place. I was the new girl in class, and I'm sure everyone enjoyed watching my struggles. I just know that I was dragging them the wrong way too.

Apparently, I should buy a water bottle that I can easily use to "hydrate". Unscrewing my nalgene's cap and trying to catch the water in my mouth while pedaling was just another way to humiliate myself.
I was so sweaty! Maybe just as sweaty as I used to get when we'd play back to back indoor soccer games. This class kicked my butt. There was a pregnant girl spinning away. I couldn't help but think, "Geez, nine months over there hasn't even taken her shirt off yet to use as a sweat catcher."

2 Words to add to my spinning vocab: road, sticky


3. I think I'm the biggest loser this week. I'm pretty sure I'm up to a ten pound deficit.


4. I successfully parallel parked in front of my house. No second tries.

Badness:

1. Where is my hubcap? I don't know when, but one of my hubcaps snuck off, and now my car looks ghetto. Huge sigh. It probably fell victim to one of those dang 13th East potholes.



2. One of my undies decided to unravel in the dryer. Green string accented almost every other piece of laundry.



3. 2nd Parking Ticket in Two Days.

Ugh! I was in the correct spot, I have a pass, what is the deal! Then I looked closer, and it says, "No vis registration." Then I was even more mad. My car is taken care of, it is registered, how is it my fault that they never sent that stupid little blue or green or red sticker to me?

4. My bum's already feeling the punishment from the spinning class.

5. I can't tell that I've lost 10 pounds.

6. Ben's at drill this weekend.

I can't stop crying at the gym.

Okay, I've only cried twice, but considering that I just joined this new gym on Wednesday ... that's twice too many.

On Thursday, Ben, his roommate Kyle, and I went over to the gym that's right across from their apartments. Kyle's training for a marathon, and Ben and I are just trying to be healthier. (I've lost 7 pounds since Dec. 31, yahoo! I attribute it to starting school again. I'm busy again and don't have time to shove my face full of food all day long.)
I have been showing Ben my old lifting program, and that night we were working on back and biceps. We had just started, and Ben said he heard something. We both turned around and there was an old man down on the floor twisted between the treadmills. He was still seizuring. He was right next to Kyle, and apparently, he started seizuring and then fell off of the treadmill, still seizuring. It was absolutely horrible.
The staff stepped in, called 911, and stayed by him, while we lamely kept looking over our shoulders, whispering that we had no idea what to do. Inside I was frantic to help, but I didn't know how. Eventually he came to, and he was very worried, but some people calmly explained to him what had happened. He was dazed ... and then he started moaning, "Ow, ouch, OW, OUCH!" It was completely heartbreaking. He was inconsolable, and all I could do was wish the paramedics there faster. It seemed like it took way too long, but as I looked out the window, I saw a paramedic SUV pull up. Really? Shouldn't they send more than that? Some young guys hopped out, and I wanted to pound the glass and tell them to hurry. Then the firetruck pulled up behind them, and an ambulance pulled up behind the truck. Sheesh, now I switched gears and thought that they were just over doing it.
They came in with their doodahs and gadgets, and tried to ask the old man some questions, but he wouldn't respond other than moaning. We were really at a loss. Do we watch? No, that seemed intrusive. Do we keep working out? No, that seemed irreverent. Does Ben crack a joke to ease the tension? Of course. After a really long moan he whispered in my ear with a giggle, "Can't they get him out of here already?" He assured me he was kidding, but maybe we were all thinking it, but with more of a "help him out" attitude.
They were trying to help him on to the board, but they couldn't persuade him to hold still. I had my back to him, and then I hear, "Help me ... help me!" That's when the tears started. Looking back, I wish that I had gone over and seen if I could hold his hand or something. I don't know. I did nothing. They wheeled him out, and I just pray that he's alright.


Saturday Nat and Thurm were in town because the day before Thurm had had a dentist appointment, and Nat had had a baby appointment. Thurm's training for a marathon, so he and Ben went running together Saturday morning. We were all going to go swimming later, so I went to the gym while they ran outside.
My mom had called earlier that morning to invite us over for the funeral, but I told her that I didn't think we'd make it in time. Confession, I honestly hadn't been planning on watching the funeral, and then I felt overwhelmingly guilty. Luckily, when I got the gym, I realized that one of the t.v.'s was on the funeral channel. (You know what I mean.) So I hopped on the treadmill and ran while I listened to the beautiful talks.
I was so sweaty, and I hope that that disguised the tears rolling down my face. I was a mess, a stinky bawlbaby mess. What got me was when his daughter was talking about how President Hinckley was so sad when his wife died, and how he was so sad when he found out he had cancer. He was sad, and he let people know that he was sad, and it was okay that he was sad. He grieved every day for his wife. I loved this; it's real.

Thursday, January 17 was the last day of the quarter, and I was completely spent. I was selfish and decided that I would not give any instruction. I checked out October Sky, explained to my kids that today was a study hall day. Whether that meant working on last-minute stuff for my class, or working on homework for another class was up to them. I drilled it in that this was not a chat-it-up with your friends, bounce around in your seats, do-nothing day, it was Study Hall. Of course, some child would eventually raise their hand and sheepishly confess, "But Ms. Bateman," as the child breaks into nervous shakes, "I don't have anything to work on..." and trails off.

"Hmm ... well, we could watch this movie at the same time. But is this a chance for you to finally horse around all period?"

In unison, "No Ms. Bateman!"

So I popped in October Sky, climbed over my massive pile of stuff to grade and furiously entered scores while the movie kept their attention. Then it started. "Shit! Son of a bitch! Damnit! Hell!" I froze. Once I enter the building, I pull on my teacher suit, and I'm a different person, more aware of things around me and my kids. I had seen this quality film, loved it, and would recommend it whole-heartedly. Three girls in the back of the room giggled every time Homer's dad called someone a son of a bitch ... I didn't know how to handle the situation. I pretended that I wasn't bothered, that I wasn't freaking out about how I was a bad teacher showing inappropriate material to her students. Instead of addressing the issues in my class, I sent Maggie Jensen messages. She laughed and laughed while I continued to fret. There was no way that I could show this to my little seventh graders, I have a couple that just might pass out. What to do? What to do?

Maggie went to the library for me and checked out Cars and Stand and Deliver. I was nervous about showing Cars because then it really was a complete waste of a day, there's no connection to math. Maggie tried to stretch in a connection ... no, no connection.

So for my next class, I made them all put their heads down, and I waited until they weren't nervously peeking at each other. I explained to them that we had two movie choices, however one has some swears in it. I described both movies in an enticing way, and then asked, "Now please raise your hands if you are going to be uncomfortable if we show a movie that has swears." Oh no, two girls raised their hand. What to do with them? Fortunately, the class voted for Stand and Deliver. Alright, awkwardness avoided!

I threw in Stand and Deliver, and we watched as he drove into L.A. on his way to the school, finds out just how poor the school really is, and stumbles into his disaster of a class. The students in the movie are completely uninterested, and eventually a girl with a tight black dress on stands up, tosses her hands on her hips, and shouts out, "Can we talk about sex?"

To which the teacher responds, "If we talk about sex, then I have to assign sex as homework." To which the entire class erupts in cheers and applause.

I was mortified. What have I done? I'm going to get calls from parents ... e-mails from parents ... should I tell the administration? Again, I sent Maggie messages, and she just laughed and laughed while I was in complete panic.

So for the rest of the day, I fast-forwarded through that part. My fourth period was absolutely furious that I was skipping over stuff, but I just shrugged it off. Later on in the movie, a bell rang and right along with it, our bell rang for the first lunch. "What! Wow! They rang together ... hey! You did that on purpose Ms. Bateman! That's why you fast-forwarded, you wanted the bells to be the exact same as the movie! She did that so the bells would be the same ... Cool Ms. Bateman."

So dumb.

Over Em's birthday, we returned to the West Piney lodge.

Last time we vacationed here, I dared to ride the Death Slide. We had done it when we were really little, and I'd done it a few times early on the trip. Dra and I wanted to go down one time really quick before we left for boating. I donned my swimsuit, shorty-shorts, a t-shirt, and flip-flops, but never thought twice about my attire. Three fourths of the way down, my flip flop jammed in one of the cracks on the side of the slide, forcing me to flip off the slide, consistently flipping my way down the mountain. Scary as hell, but being the superhero that I am, I was completely unhurt. Shaken of course.

We told James and Jackie the story, James didn't understand how that was possible. Fortunately for him, later that night I got the guts to re-try the slide. James and Jackie stood at the top and cheered me on, congratulating my courageousness. Wowser, I did the exact same thing again. Only this time it scared me more, and my leg was really stiff. I laid in the poky bushes for awhile, listening to James calling to see if I was alright between his fits of insane laughter. It took me about half an hour to climb back up to the top because I had to go so slow, and James was still laughing. I was nervous that I'd have to go to the doctor. I didn't tell anybody what happened until later that night. I sheepishly told my dad that he might have to take me to the hospital in the morning. Miraculously, no pain in the morning.

Don't you worry, I successfully went down the slide again this time, the red stairs had been added, they were a lot nicer to climb up. This lodge is amazing. We played softball, soccer, bowled it up ...

"That sure was nice of dad to let Ben borrow his swim-shorts."

Zach pointed this out at a Grandma Bateman party, and we all held our belly's and laughed and laughed. We haven't seen our dad wear his baby blues for the longest time, but we all knew exactly what Zach was comparing Ben's shorts too ...

Ben's a thrift store boy, and he found these babies at a doozy in Idaho.

Ben was inspired by Chris Gainer's step/mullet haircut, so he pulled out his shaver and went to town. He confessed that he had a surprise for me; I suspected a new-do. However, I had no idea how amazing his new haircut truly was.

The army strikes again: He had to shave it bald a few days later. Bye, bye, sweet buzz.

When I filled Em in on my idea to take the short-haircut journey, she secretly took a picture of me and Eli at Zach's wedding, horsed around with it at school, and with the help of photoshop produced these fine looking gems.
Okay, one of them = Woof

"Buzz's girlfriend, woof!"

( I don't know why the initial photo won't upload, but I'm leaving the gray mystery box. Underneath the cloudiness is my original hair length. )

Em found this story in her e-mail. I laughed as I was reminded of it all and then felt like crying because I miss my Taiwan adventures desperately.

Yesterday morning (April 28, 2006) it was raining, and I had recently thrown away my ginormous yellow poncho. It was big enough to fit over my backpack and still almost reach my toes. Well, last time I wore it I was in too big of a hurry to yank it off and I snagged it on my backpack and ripped it a little bit, plus it stunk, gross. I don't know why, I always let it hang out to dry. No big deal, I just need to run to the 7-11 and pick up another. I pedaled my little heart out on the way to school, thinking the faster that I rode, the less wet I would be. I managed to ride through a deep puddle, I started worrying less and less about how wet I was, there was no avoiding it.

I gingerly rounded the corner on to the narrow street that leads to my school, cars usually come out head on, and there's not a lot of room so you have to be wary. No cars yet, so I started warming up to full speed when the neighbor's rooster came bolting out into the road. He's a really pretty guy, bold yellows and oranges and deep greens. He's cool, I always look for him when I'm riding home, he just chills behind this building that we pass. I assume he's a pet, he seems domesticated. A lot of the people here have chickens and roosters for pets. So he comes bolting out, I put my foot down to stop, and right behind the rooster trots this filthy, stubby-legged, squatty, extended-bellied, homeless-looking dog.

The rooster is jumping and running and flapping his wings, and the dog reaches out and grabs the rooster under his stretched out left wing. The dog starts to shake him as the rooster screams and flails. I'm at a loss. Do I kick the dog? Do I try to pull them apart? Do I shout? Is this dog starving to death, is it fair for me to deny him this? Do I go tell someone that their rooster is seconds from being torn apart? Basically I sit and debate, terrified that I'm going to watch our beloved rooster be eaten.

Luckily the rooster managed to crane his neck just right so that he could nip the dog, the dog released, and the rooster sprinted back behind the building. The dog made an attempt to follow, but kind of held back. Well... I didn't want to be late for school, so I laughed nervously, shook my head, shrugged my shoulders, and took off for school. I related the scenario to the one in The Christmas Story when Farkus is beating up that boy, and Ralphy and his friends won't help because the bell rang.

I was worried about it though, I was worried that my inaction cost the rooster his life, that gross dog probably sauntered back and grabbed poor Mr. Rooster. I told my kids the entire story, acted it out, drew pictures, they laughed insanely. I asked them if they thought the rooster was okay, "No, he's dead," they reassured me. Sigh. Later, during word skills practice, I heard the rooster crow. My face lit up, and I yelled, "The rooster's okay! I heard him! Do you hear him? The rooster's alive!," then my kids started pounding their desks and chanting, "The rooster is alive! The rooster is alive!" Then Harrison pointed out that it could be another rooster that we could hear, and I got nervous again.

After class, when all of the teachers were punching out, I told the story again. Elizabeth tried to reassure me that the rooster was okay because, "Rooster's are really tough. I heard one time about cock fights, and they seem to be good fighters." It was hilarious because she whispered cock fights, like saying it was illegal, but in my head I was thinking, "Sure they can be tough, but he was up against a dog, a starving dog!" I hopped on my bike, and Andrea mounted her scooter, and I told her that I was going to go look for feathers, to which she repiled, "Feathers? Oh, is that the rooster's name?" What? No, that's not his name! I really was going to go see if there were feathers on the ground, not to collect them or anything ... how the heck would I know the rooster's name? Andrea laughed really hard when I pointed all of this out. We rode by, and the rooster was just chillin' in his regular spot. Good ol' fighty-back rooster.

Angel lost her tooth in class, these kids don't have an extensive library of English words, so she explained what happened through hand motions and sound effects. "I eh-eh-eh-eh-eh (she's wiggling her tooth), and then shoooooom (she makes a rainbow indicating her tooth flew out)." I felt bad because as I replay the dialogue that was going on while I was focusing on helping Kenneth write the word drench, I can remember Angel in the background saying, "My teeth fall out, my teeth fall out!" but I wasn't giving her any attention. So eventually I tuned in and realized what she was saying and we all had a good laugh. I grabbed the empy baggy that our snacks had been in, tossed her tooth in, and tied a knot. We had a discussion about when to use tooth and when to use teeth. Hope they retain it.

Breakthrough at the end of class: Kenneth puked in the garbage. You have no idea how excited I was, how excited our entire class was. Kenneth pukes a lot, he's puked three days this week. I had this hypothesis that he pukes after he's been crying, but yesterday he wasn't crying. He always pukes at the end of class, poor little bugger. He manages to puke all over himself, it's horrible, smelly, and super sad. I keep having these open discussions with my kids about puking, you don't have to come to Miss Amy to tell me you're about to puke, you don't have to raise your hand, you don't have to wait for permission to puke, save that precious time and run to the garbage, or the bathroom, whichever is the best option. As we're doing our closing duties yesterday, I watch as Kenneth saunters over to the garbage, holds his arms up and out, kind of forming the upper case M, and pukes hard core into the garbage. Harry yells, "Kenneth puke in the garbage! It's green!" Our entire class erupted, we were all so happy, he made it. His puke wasn't green, I don't know where Harry got that, but poor Kenneth, we were all telling him good job, way to go buddy, we were literally celebrating that he puked. I made a huge deal about it, I wanted to reinforce the behavior. I asked him if he felt better and he just shrugged his shoulders.

One of our most eventful days in KBRa.

I just got dropped off at Ben's apartment because I have to borrow his car tomorrow. He's sleeping like a little lamb, and I'm secretly super annoyed, so I'm taking advantage of his internetness.

I lamely just rear-ended another car, but proudly did so with only one swear word throughout the entire process. It boils down to the traffic stopping abruptly, and me not stopping so abruptly. Luckily, the lady behind me barely missed slamming into my car. Another lucky, the car that I hit only had some scratches, but my gray little Jetta is an eye-sore.

I checked on the girl, we were both fine, then called it in and got more and more angry at myself. After trying to call a few people without any answers, I got back out to check on the high-schooler. I did ask her age, just as I thought, seventeen. "I'm 25 and should know better," I admitted sheepishly. She used my phone and left messages for her family, apologizing the whole time for 'using minutes.' Are you kidding? I just hit you kid.

We were in the middle lane, and pulling off was out of the question because the outside lane was the entrance to I-215, so we made everything awkward for all travelers. I love those type of time wasting accidents. I also love when people honk at accidents. Just makes everything so much more pleasant.

A couple and their young son was waiting on the sidewalk across the street, the motherly one making advances like she was going to weave through the traffic. I asked the girl if that was her family, nope. So the lady ran up to us, confessed that she was a ... nurse ... she didn't say nurse, but I can't remember what she said. Something along those lines. "Yeah, I just got off work, and me and my girlfriend just took my son out to eat." To which I scrunched up my eyes and looked back across the street, funny, your girlfriend totally looks like a man. It was super nice of her to stop and check on us, "Oh, I have to by law." Still, it was nice.

Our lady cop was kind, and she answered all of my questions politely. She explained the paperwork, eventually getting to, "Right here you need to write a description of what happened, and in this box, you need to draw a picture." I caught my laugh before it escaped and with as little sass as possible asked if I had to draw a picture. Yup. So I drew two squares with circles on each corner and wrote the work KABLAMMO between them.

After filling out the paperwork, I sat in my car and frantically tried to get a hold of anyone. While I listened to voicemail after voicemail, I painfully watched the other girl's family arrive. She got quivery lip, and bawled and bawled and hugged and hugged. I was instantly pissed at her for being so dramatic. Unreasonable thoughts such as: Your car is just scratched, mine needs a tow truck. You're not the bad guy in this situation. You were able to get a hold of people therefore more people love you than love me ... I know, I was being insane, but fatty tears were totally running down my cheek. Then I was pissed at myself for being so judgmental and for crying, and then I totally had cryry voice from that point on.

My mom called in the middle of all of this, and I blubbered that I just got in a wreck and that I'd have to call her back. Her, "Oh honey!" brought on more tears. I was able to talk to my dad later who was all business and of course I don't want to cry in front of him so I was able to calm my jangled nerves. He's so extremely level-headed, I love it.

My dear little Karen picked me up and brought me to Ben's while my poor little car left with Shamrock Towing. Not my luckiest of days.

Ben basically hibernates when he sleeps, and after many failed attempts to wake him up, I was super angry. I held his face and practically screamed that I needed his car keys. I said it a few times, increasing in volume each time, while his eyes rolled and fluttered open and shut. This put me at boiling point. Eventually, I retrieved the keys, and announced that I had to go sleep at my parents. He sat in sleepy shock, saying nothing. I just stared at him in disbelief, I'd just wrecked my car, and I get nothing. I'm pretty sure I said something dramatic like, "Did you hear what I said!" and then I got teary and whispered that all I needed was a lot of huggins. "Well then, get over here," and I cried and cried between his super strong hugs, snores, back to super strong hugs, snores ...

Arcade Fire concert!
September 26 I got to see them for the second time this year. The Heiners and I saw them up at The Gorge in May, and we all agreed that they were our absolute favorite, even better than the Beastie Boys.
LCD Soundsystem opened for them, and they set us up perfectly for Arcadeness.
Man oh man how I love Arcade.

** Ben chopped off most of his finger at work earlier that day, poor little tyke.
** Once again, pictures are coming, I don't know what it is with this computer and the internet ...

Dr. Hall went to town on my poor little teeth. Because I'm not the best flosser, I had to have three cavities taken care of. I had to have three shots which morphed into four shots because I wasn't numb at one point ... yikes. I hate cavities, and now I understand when people say they hate going to the dentist.
So I looked like a fool, and even more unfortunately, the numbness lasted for almost 24 hours. I was scared that my face had frozen.

Fabulous picture is on her way ...