The end of summer.

Summer's over. Done. Finished. Dunzo, to quote Laguna.

I dread Labor Day usually, because it's the end of summer. Maybe if I didn't associate fall with the end of summertime activities and the start of being forced to look at books, I might like the change of seasons better. But the cold smell of fall, the way it gets dark earlier, and the cool nights are combined with the fact that I have to go to school tomorrow, and that makes it impossible to appreciate this stupid awful death-of-everything-alive season.

Labor Day weekend wasn't too bad this year though. Actually, it was sort of fun. After drinking way too much on Saturday night with a big group by Fenway, where we made friends with toothless hicks from maine and ran into my neighbor that I hadn't seen in 5 years, I then spent Sunday at my family's annual labor day pool party & bbq. Lots of swimming, eating, and playing.


This game entertained us for a good hour or so



So did this game








I spent my last full day of summer vacation at the sox game yesterday. They lost, but I got my fenway frank and some popcorn, as well as unlimited views of Varitek. I don't have pictures, so I drew you one.




Now I have to go make my peanut butter and jelly sandwich for my first day of first grade. I wonder if I should start wearing fun teacher-ish pins tomorrow, or if I should wait for the 2nd day...

This week I saw gas prices slowly climbing, so I decided to hold off on buying gas, figuring there was no way gas would actually get higher--it could only go lower from there. But with about an eigth of a tank left yesterday afternoon, and my parents' nagging voicemail to get gas because it was going to jump, I sat, unhappily, in line yesterday to pay $2.77.

Today I drove by the same station and it was $3.27. Fifty cents!

Not just the name of the brilliant line, "Hey Shorty, it's your birfday."




I'm not sure what the graph is trying to say, but doesn't it look smart?

I decided my bike is a better mode of transportation. For about 20 seconds, I thought about whether or not I could ride my bike to my house to go swimming this weekend. Then I decided it was kind of far.

I thought today that I should spend the day outside since it's one of the last hot days. I rode my bike down to the esplanade and read for an hour before I got bored. I always kind of half joke that I want someone to do the Freedom Trail with me. Mostly because I know Kate won't do it when I ask her. But I've never been to Bunker Hill monument in all the time I've lived here, and there's a ton of stuff that I've seen but was too young to care, like Paul Revere's house and the Old North Church. So I hopped back on my bike and did the Freedom Trail. Though I didn't walk through the cemetary where Sam Adams and other famous dead people reside (cemetaries are creepy by yourself).

But what I was wondering, are people supposed to walk that whole thing in a day? And why don't they have trolleys that shuttle you back and forth? And why don't we eat in the North End more often? I could go for a cannoli right now.

Just call me...

It's sort of real now. In one week I have to actually put on nice clothes 5 days a week and have a normal, working person's schedule (minus the normal, working person's pay obvi). Today was the first grade open house at the school I'll be at this fall, so I got to hang out with my supervising teacher and meet any overly nervous first graders who want to check things out before next week and make sure they're tall enough to reach the water fountain.

It felt really odd introducing myself as Miss Gross, not only because it's a crappy last name when you're around 6 year olds (as I learned when I was 6, and then again when I was 21), but because I don't feel grown up enough to be a Miss. I'm not sure when that grown up transition is going to come, but I hope it's real soon.

I have clean hands

So two cool things to share tonight.

First, my roommate is so cool. I wanted to buy her a present from my trip, and I had my heart set on a lighter that said "Austin," because I watched her countless amounts of times flirting with a boy of the same name in Chet's, as well as returning the next morning with bruises all over her boobs. (She wasn't hit, the guy just thought they were detachable). Anyway I thought it would be funny and witty with its double meanings. But then I realized I couldn't pack a lighter in my suitcase. So on my drive back to Porter Square today I stopped in at Trader Joe's and bought her a raspberry fruit leather.

So I sort of felt bad when I gave her the fruit leather and Kate surprised me with an "end of the summer" present. You know those cool zen gardens that you rake the sand around in?


Well, she topped that. It's a beach themed zen garden. Check it out.

Complete with a bouncy beach ball, cooler to hold miller lite, folding beach chair and umbrella, sunglasses, sandals, shells, and fish!


And you can rake the sand too!


In other cool inventions, I learned of a new Jetson's-like way to clean your hands. This weekend we went to a BBQ restaurant in Austin. It's really neat because you order ribs and pork and stuff by the pound, and they put it in a crate for you and give you butcher's paper for plates, and you eat it outside on long picnic tables. But since it's messy and you use your hands, before you get in line to order, you can use the hand washing station. You stick your hands in, and water sprays around your hands in a circle for like 10 seconds. Like a car wash!

But the best part is, after you use it, you get a sticker!


I took three.

The stars at night, are big and bright...

DEEP IN THE HEART OF TEXAS!!!

Now imagine that song being stuck for your entire trip to Texas. It's really fun.

I've made it home safe & sound from my trip to CactusLand. Which I found out really isn't so much cactus land as I was expecting. At least not the "tall ones with arms" variety. I did however find a good prickly one to take a picture with.


Some of my other suspicions about Texas were confirmed, however. Like the fact that they like cowboy boots.


This was in a store that sold cowboy boots, hats, leather jackets and vests, and "cowboy cut" Wrangler jeans.

But besides searching out cactuses and comboy boots, I spent some time doing educational things, like seeing the Alamo, the Texas State History Museum, the capital building, and the Real World Austin house and the bar that the cast goes to 9 times a week.

I didn't sing the Davy Crockett song at the Alamo even once


I did a lot of sweating too. Like, bordering on disgusting. Like, over 100 degrees each day. We sat outside at a bar around 12:30 at night and had to move inside to the AC because it was still in the 90s after midnight and was too hot. I sleep with a down comforter and a blanket 365 days out of the year, but even I was begging for an air conditioner. One neat thing is that they have are these misting tents, which is perfect for an afternoon at the Austin Hot Sauce Festival. But then my hair gets frizzy. It's a lose-lose situation choosing between frizzy hair or dripping sweat.

In Texas I also learned that I have a big issue with "y'all." Here's the thing. I don't like the contraction to begin with. It makes even well-educated people sound dumb. But I especially don't like it when they say it to address only two people. I think the rule should be, if it's going to be used at all, that it's just for a crowd of 3 or more. I wouldn't say "you all" or "all of you" to just two people, I'd just say "you." Come on people, it's weird.

But the Texans were overall nice people, despite their Bush-like accents. And I'm proud to say that afer a short vacation, I earned myself The Texan Card, compliments of my brother, a real live Texan.



The back reads: "The bearer of this card has consistently demonstrated the true spirit of Texas in thought, word, and deed. Therefore, said bearer is duly entitled to enjoy the many wonders of the Lone Star State and the hearty friendship of its people. It is understood that this, The Texan Card, is their certification and rightful passport to the great bounty of Texas."

Yee haw.

Ha ha

During my procrastination period tonight I found this website, which has a joke every day & is pretty entertaining to kill some time.

But I particularly wanted to share this joke, which I've actually read before but it's a good one...

A couple from Minneapolis decided to go to Florida for a long weekend to thaw out during one particularly icy winter. Because both had jobs, they had difficulty coordinating their travel schedules. It was decided that the husband would fly to Florida on a Thursday, and his wife would follow him the next day. Upon arriving as planned, the husband checked into the hotel. There he decided to open his laptop and send his wife an e-mail back in Minneapolis. However, he accidentally left off one letter in her address, and sent the e-mail without realizing his error. In Houston, a widow had just returned from her husband's funeral. He was a minister of many years who had been "called home to glory" following a heart attack. The widow checked her e-mail, expecting messages from relatives and friends. Upon reading the first message, she fainted and fell to the floor. The widow's son rushed into the room, found his mother on the floor, and saw the computer screen which read:

To: My Loving Wife
From: Your Departed Husband
Subject: I've Arrived!

I've just arrived and have been checked in. I see that everythiing has been prepared for your arrival tomorrow. Looking forward to seeing you then. Hope your journey is as uneventful as mine was. P.S. Sure is hot down here!

Cool and Comfy

I tend to get in sleeping ruts. First I need it absolutely quiet. Then I need background noise. Then I need it perfectly dark. Then I need some light.

I've never really enjoyed air conditioning, but this summer I found myself using it almost every night for the month of July because it was about 231 degrees in the apartment.

I started to realize though that I needed the air conditioning on to sleep. The trains and cars and construction in the morning used to not bother me, but then I began finding that one car driving down my street would wake me up at 6:30. But I realized that I can't use the air conditioning all winter during blizzards, so since this week was finally cooler at night, I decided that this week I would ween myself off of the air conditioner.

It was a tough week for sleeping.
I was restless every morning from around 5ish and on. The air blowing on me from my fan would make me cold, but it was too hot to have nothing. I also had scary or weird dreams almost every night this week (the usual, like being chased by unspecified "mean" people, and then more interesting things like getting stuck in big bad tornados with nothing to hold on to to keep me on the ground besides clinging to the leg of a coffee table, or another one where my dad was the vice president of a small country and snipers were after us).

I have a lot to do in the next few weeks, and I want to get a lot done in the next few days before I leave for Texas later this week. I know that when I get home from the great land of GW and gun-toting cowboys, it'll really feek like summer is ending and I'll want to be perfectly lazy and spend the last bit of summer at the beach or my pool, not doing anything I need to get done. But today I'm sleepy. And it's hot. And I'm kind of cranky. And I have so many little things to do that I don't want to do anything.

This has quickly become a woe is me post. So sorry. It could be worse. A LOT worse. I could have been working all summer like my roommate. I could be living at home. I could have crossed eyes. But now might be a good time to send presents anyway.

In the mood for Mexican?

I don't remember having imaginary friends when I was little. I had "temporary imaginary friends," because I used to like to pretend I was a soccer mom and drop my 8 kids (oh yeah, I was in the von trapp family) off at all of their activities in my van (read: bike) at various locations in my neighborhood. But anyway, while I made up names for them, I didn't consistently talk about thoose people, or make up personalities and qualities for them.

I was thinking about imaginary friends though, and trying to remember if I had any, because the girl I've been babysitting this week now has a new imaginary friend since the last time I watched her at the beginning of the summer. The friend's name is Burrito.

Yes, Burrito. Burrito is about the size of a tennis ball, he likes to eat cheese sandwiches, play outside in the sandbox, go for walks, and uses the potty because he's already three years old. Burrito has a little pal named Baby Burrito.

I think it's kind of funny that even at two years old kids can create this somewhat complicated friend/Mexican entree. And the psych major in me thinks it's probably a pretty healthy thing to do, which maybe explains why I never had imaginary friends. I'd be curious to know which of my friends had imaginary friends and what they were like...

Ribbit

Shortly after lunch today, I put the 2 year old I was babysitting in her crib for her nap. The parents have a bedtime routine that I'm supposed to do, which involves a diaper change, a book, and a song--twinkle twinkle little star. But when I started singing, she requested the frog song that I sing to her once in awhile ("5 little speckled frogs, sitting on a speckled log, eating some most delicious bugs-YUM YUM! One jumped into the pool, where it was nice and cool, now there are four green speckled frogs--RIBBIT RIBBIT!") There's no half-assing this song, if you're gonna sing it, you've gotta ribbit like you mean it. So I did.

Then I walked downstairs through the living room where 6 painters were working today, and one said something along the lines of, "I like frog songs." I then realized to my horror that I had turned on the baby monitor earlier, and the whole half dozen workers got to hear my rendition of my favorite song from girl scouts.

I think I'm going to lie down to watch the Sox. The smell from the corn dogs that my roommate made for the second night in a row is getting to my head. But they sure did look delicious (I have to say that or she'll hit me).

Hot town, summer in the city

Last night was one of those perfect summer nights that you think about all winter to get you through stretches in February when we go days without the temperature rising about 15 degrees. It was so nice & hot & humid all day, and then still a steamy 80 degrees around 10:00.

I finally got home for some night swimming, the first time I've done that all summer.







Sure it's a nice treat to cool off at the end of the day, relax in the shallow end while watching the Sox beat the Rangers, but what I really like is the bonding among friends. Spending time with friends like this lets you learn more about each other. Like if one of them performed synchronized swimming to "The Little Mermaid" as a child.



Good luck in Texas, Slowsure. See you in 3 years.

Happy Birthday, Caits!

The birthdays just keep rolling on by. Before we know it, I'll be sitting in my rocker announcing that so-and-so just turn 103.

Today my friends is the 23rd birthday of a very special Caitlin Ann.

Caitlin taught me all there is to know about managing curly hair. She knows just what product combinations work well, and how to casually fluff her hair when random people in the bank tell her how nice it is. Until I became friends with Caitlin, I thought bangs were a good idea.

Caitlin never lets a party go by without a pinata.


Caitlin is a dependable, caring friend. She'll do anything to help you out. She'll even dress up in ridiculous outfits if you ask her to.


Caitlin kept me sane during senior year of high school. She sat next to me in AP English and reassured me that I didn't need to read Heart of Darkness to write the paper ("Rivets?!") and that it's OK if I'm not speechless after watching Apocalypse Now, which is, for the record, a lousy movie. Even more, she was my lab partner in chemistry and always seemed to remember to bring our daily snack when I forgot. I thought we were both in the same boat, hating chemistry more than life itself, but then Caitlin got all smart in college and became like a credit short of a chem minor.

Caitlin is an overachiever when it comes to the kitchen. She'll make her own roasted red peppers, and chicken with ingredients that most people can't pronounce.


Caitlin is surprisingly hip and cool and into modern ammenities even though she lived in Maine for 7 years, she survived a date with a guy who admires Bill O'Reilly, she trusts me around needles, knows more than anyone about food, invites me to Sox games (even ALCS Game 3 vs. Yankees), and will go to the beach with me at 8:30 in the morning.

She's a great friend, one of the most genuinely nice people you'll ever meet, and she's getting old. Happy Birthday, Caitlin!

August

I'd like to make a case that August is the worst month of the year.

August is sort of like Sunday. Even though it's a month of summer weather and summer vacation (for those in academics), it means the end of summer is near. It's hard to enjoy Sunday or August because you can't stop thinking that it's almost over.

Even though it's going to be 90 degrees every day this week, I can't help remembering that that'll end shortly, and abruptly. One morning I'll wake up and see the 3 and a half foot weeds by our front steps are covered with a thin layer of frost, and I know I'll have to wear at least 4 layers of clothes until late April.

The best part of my summer vacation should be the second half of August. I'll finally be done with my summer classes, and I have about three weeks to go to the beach, the pool, Texas, and my favorite spot on the couch. I can finish my book and hopefully get through another one. I can enjoy being outside. I can get rid of the dust bunnies underneath my bed. I can organize my life.

But always in one corner of my mind there's the thought that fall is right around the corner. Cold weather is on its way, and the lazy days of summer are about to end. In just one month from today I begin student teaching. And not only will it result in a serious drain on my social life and my love of doing nothing, but it's also a constant reminder that life as I know it as a student is almost over, and soon I have to begin working forever. Or until I win the lottery. Whichever comes first.

August is crummy.

That's Jenny from the block?

I hate Jennifer Lopez as much as the next guy. But my feelings stem mostly from my catty thinking that she's sort of a whore, and that she corrupted Ben Affleck. He was definitely a good guy in my eye before her.

And while I'm not a big fan of using fur to make coats, which I think are ugly (yet unbelievably soft) anyway, I'm certainly not one to throw red paint, and I definitely won't pass up a plate of juicy steak tips.

But what happens if you combine those two sentiments? Well, you get the J-LoDown. It's a website that appears to be created by some hard-core activists trying to show J Lo for what she apparently is...an evil evil person who wears animals skins as a fashion statement at movie premieres. In fact, you might not know this but,

"Lopez may try to convince her fans that her rabbit-trimmed jackets are a must-have, but what she won't tell you is that bunnies killed for fur coats scream as they are skinned alive!"

The website even shows pictures of Lopez wearing different animals. The chinchilla is my favorite.


In other news, I'm itchy. My roommate says it's a rare skin disease. I'm hoping it's the Pox. I don't want to go to class tomorrow.

"Move...get out the way"

Do you ever get that feeling when you're out on the road that you shouldn't be driving? Like that the world (or at least that section of the highway) might be a safer place if you weren't controlling a ton of metal on four wheels on that road?

I've done a lot of driving in the past week, and I think today it caught up with me. I found myself swerving around people if they took too long to make a right turn. Or getting unusually mad at people who don't use their blinker to make the turn. I learned how to drive in Massachusetts, that act shouldn't be that startling. But rather than just slowing down and waiting for them to turn, I waited to turn, getting up nice and close before I put my foot on the brake, as if to show them that I just nearly avoided an accident because of their failure to signal.

But the biggest thing that I have a problem with is people who jump out to make a turn right in front of me, and then proceed to go slower than I was going. If you were in that much of a hurry that you had to turn out quickly rather than wait for me to go by and go behind my car, then it only seems logical that you'd drive fast too.

And if you can't go the speed limit, then you should be off the road. I've come to believe that I have a right to go the speed limit. My blood starts to boil if I'm stuck on the road behind someone not going at least the speed limit. But today I wasn't satisfied with someone who was driving at the speed limit. No, today you better have been going at least a good five miles over if you were in front of me.

There was no reason for my amplified Masshole tendencies today...no rush, no stress, nothing but a relaxing day at the pool..certainly no excuse for trying to show people that their dumb moves almost cost them and me our ability to walk.

But oh man, Massachusetts drivers suck.


Happier times in the car

The moral of this post? Maybe you steer clear when you see my little Explorer heading down the road...or at least have the courtesy to drive faster than me.

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"