Hit me baby one more time

Kerrin is special.
This is why:

She looks hot with a mullet.


She's a fun person to party with.


She brings in the New Year like none other.



She remembers to raise her hand when she has a question.


She shows her affection.


She's goofy,


And she's smart.


And she'll listen to my ideas, even if they're dumb.


Yup, she's a special girl, that Kerrin Nora. She likes Britney Spears to the point where it's sort of weird, she introduced me to peanut butter and pickle sandwiches, she once had two spleens and now she has none, she knows the difference between finance and accounting and she'll tell you why one is cooler than the other, she gets excited about balancing her checkbook, she invited me to her tea party-theme birthday party in second grade, she taught me all of the good football cheers in high school, and if it weren't for her, I might not have passed chemistry, physics, or calculus.

But, Kerrin's EXTRA special today, because it's her birthday!!


HAPPY BIRTHDAY KENORA!!!!

Chicken pot, chicken pot, chicken pot piiiiiiiiie

You know how sometimes a great mood just makes you want to do stuff? I finished one of my classes this morning, which means that I have just two weeks left of my third and final class of the summer. I worked particularly hard for this class (really, I did) and it felt great to be done with it. So I wore my bathing suit to class this morning to celebrate. I wasn't wearing it just because it's comfy...I was going to the beach in the afternoon since I was done, but it was extra nice to get all set to go to the beach as I got ready for class this morning. It was a little embarrassing though when my professor asked if I was wearing my bathing suit.

I went to the beach, and didn't bring any work with me. I threw rocks for half an hour and watched the splashes they made. And I got to start a new book.

I went to Trader Joe's to do some food shopping which I don't usually get to do since it's out of the way, and I picked out lots of fun things that I want to try to make. And then I went home and cooked with tofu for the first time, making stir fry. And I don't even usually like stir-fry

I've been up by 7:30 every day for the last 10 days in a row. I'm so excited to sleep in tomorrow. Finally clean my room. Unpack my suitcase from this weekend. Return 17 picture books from the public library that teach first and second graders about the sense of taste. Figure out whether I waited too long to turn in my forms to get paid for teaching afterschool math this spring. Return some phone calls. Send some emails I've been putting off. I might actually be pleasant to talk to if you see me.

Tomorrow's going to be incredible.

And on that theme:

I'm really not a Mark Bellhorn Basher

...but sometimes I like to jump on that bandwagon just because everyone else looks like they have so much fun making fun of him. I thought he had a decent role last year, although I have to admit lately I find myself cringing when he's up at bat, especially since it seems like he's always up when there are two outs and the bases are loaded.

But this is funny. And with all of the dumb reality shows on lately, I really wouldn't be that surprised to see it on Fox in the new fall lineup this September:

"What about a reality-TV show titled 'I struck out Mark Bellhorn'? You gather random, unsuspecting people from the street to see if they can strike out Bellhorn from a major league mound. As a bonus, anyone who strikes him out gets $10,000 and can then attempt to better him in the field as well for added humiliation. The pilot episode would feature a 90-year-old grandmother with two artificial hips whiffing Bellhorn with 40 mph heaters, followed by Jerry Remy showing up Bellhorn in the field."

I just got back from Vermont and the most incredible wedding ever. Of course I missed most of the fun stuff because I was busy child-wrangling four flower girls for the weekend...but I was able to enjoy the fireworks, sample the ice cream bar, follow bagpipers leading the wedding party (consisting of 14 bridesmaids, 10 groomsmen, and 16 kids under 10 who were ring bearers, flower girls, and junior bridesmaids) through cornfields in the mountains on the walk to the reception, and enjoy a miller lite as I picked some fancy chocolate desert out of a 2 year old's hair. I saw my two little guys that I took care of in Nantucket last summer, which was really weird since the oldest one is now three and a half and not in a body cast and the youngest is two and can actually talk back to you. When I left the island at the end of last summer I was definitely ready to get away and be done with making their bottles and changing their diapers, but when I saw them again this weekend I remembered how much I really liked them. And who wouldn't love these guys dressed up as ring bearers in tan gingham blazers and pink polo shirts?

I apologize, the heat's gotten to my brain

I miss sprinklers. Sure, I'd choose the beach or pool over the sprinker any day, but there's still nothing quite like running around on grass in your bathing suit and jumping through freezing cold spraying water.


This is the best kind, the ones that go up and down and you jump through it like it's a wall

We don't have a sprinker here at our apartment. Our 2 by 2 foot yard is more of a wasteland for weeds and cigarettes. And besides, we have sort of creepy neighbors.

So when I got back tonight from a bike ride (who thought it was a good idea to go for a bike ride when it was still in the 80s at 8 o'clock, nevermind riding through North Cambridge & Fresh Pond when it started to get dark & I didn't have my gun on me), I thought long and hard about whether it would be worth the "What the fuck did you do" expressions from Helen & Kate when they walked into the apartment and saw me prancing around and splashing in the living room, using a makeshift sprinkler adapted from the sink sprayer that I designed in my head in class this morning.

In the end, I worried that I'd be banned from pima time forever and ever and that Helen might not bring back anymore English chocolate (except the orange segs--I never want to see those again). My sprinkler-in-the-living-room dreams were smashed, and I was still feeling in need of a good way to cool off.

And then I came up with the brilliant idea of transforming the shower into my own sprinker.

It's time to blog again

If you've ever known a Jewish mother, you know that their biggest goal in life is to have their kids marry other jewish people. My mom is no different, although I think her goals shift slightly during the summer months when she attempts to spend at least five hours outside at the pool every day. Anyway, my mom decided this weekend that I should date Theo Epstein. She reasoned that he's a decent age, he's established a good career for himself, and he grew up as a nice Jewish boy in quaint old Brookline. Oh and he's hot, but that was actually what I added to the conversation (except I don't describe people as "hot" with my parents...I think i said cute). She suggested I write him a letter, so I'm looking for help with a good intro to the letter, you know, to really catch his eye.

"Hey Stace, after the game let's stay in and cook lasagna tonight"