Here Comes the....STRESS!!

I think I mentioned in my last post that I've had these two day-long workshops related to teacher mentoring for next year. As I sat there yesterday, watching the hours ticking away, and thinking of the things I could have been doing instead, I was pretty anxious.

After the workshop, I went over to pick up my dress. It had been steamed and was all wrapped in a plastic bag. Since the last fitting had been just two weeks before, the ladies in the shop said it was good to go. They did advise me to take it out of the plastic bag to avoid condensation in this extreme heat.

Upon getting it to E's place, I did remove it from the plastic and could not resist the urge to try it on one more time. I have to say, I wasn't terribly happy with what I was seeing.

The spaghetti straps, which I had added to increase my comfort level in the dress, seemed to have been thrown on willy-nilly, as an afterthought. There wasn't much logic to their placement, and they certainly didn't sync in seamlessly as part of the design. It looked pretty obvious that they were just thrown on there at the last moment. Also, the straps were way to loose, meaning that even just standing there at rest, they kept looping over the sides of my shoulders and falling off.

Great...so the option was to either keep pulling up a strapless gown all night, or to do endless battle with enormous, ill-placed straps. Normally, when I have some little "wardrobe malfunction" of that sort, I think, "Ah, who the hell is going to be looking at me anyway?" and I wear the item in question anyway. However, the point of having a wedding is that people kind of look at you.

So, I tried tucking the straps away to see if wearing it strapless might not be the better option after all. No dice there. The front line of the dress, across my chest, had this huge pucker in it. If I looked down, I could see straight down to my bra.

I called the shop and they told me to bring in the dress.

The woman who altered it last time was working. When she looked at the dress, it was almost like an alien abduction thing. She didn't deny doing the original work on the dress, but she looked as if she couldn't possibly understand what had come over her when she had done it.

Out came the razor blade and the straps were cut off, repositioned, and completely re-fitted. She said they were an entire inch too long. Ahhh...that seems rather significant to me.

Then, she ended up having to pin off the whole front and she is going to recut that and refit it. Jesus, I was a wreck going to pick it up yesterday, hoping it would fit. Now I'm even more nervous because she's cutting stuff off the dress, so if she effs up again, there's no turning back.

Also, the woman mentioned that my bra was "all wrong." Again, I have worked with this woman about three times and believe me when I tell you that there are no secrets between me and this woman. She has seen more of my body than even my doctor has. She has reached her entire arm down this very bra countless times, and has made no mention of it being "all wrong." She was the one who gave my 78 dollar Spanx the old heave-ho, too, so she hasn't been shy about giving undergarment advice in the past.

Now, I have to go to Lady Grace again today and pray that they have something I can work with.

Oh, and as another little pleasant aside, the bra that I currently have, which I've worn for a total of 15 minutes over the course of my fittings, has a bone popping right out of the middle of it. I do have the receipt, but the tags are off and it has been three months since I purchased it. I'm probaby shit out of luck there, but I am going to bring it in and ask them to exchange it for at least something else.

Christ.

So glad all this is happening on the day before the wedding!!

I know, I know...every couple has last minute crap to do in the last minutes before a wedding, but Jesus!

Random Observations

I am having a glass of wine as I write. So wonderful on this hot night!!


I am sitting here in my sweltering apartment (which I actually quite like, by the way), and reflecting upon the fact that this is my last Wednesday as a single woman. I will be Mrs. K. in just three days.

Strange.

And yeah, I am going to change my last name. I wasn't sure whether I would do that or not, but when I asked Stephen about his thoughs on the subject, he confessed that he always imagined that if he got married, his wife would take his last name. That said, Stephen, being the extremely liberal, forward-thinking person that he is, was certainly not insistent or demanding about the thing. He was just telling me how he felt. If I had told him that I wanted to stay Nancy B., he wouldn't have cared in the least.

But, truth be told, I hate the fact that my first and last name are both twy syllables and each ends in the "ey" sound. Yuck. When I hear people say my first and last name together, it annoys me. I can't explain why. Marriage and a name change will remedy that situation sure enough.

Ha ha.

Anyway, I had mentor training in my school district today. I think I may have already written about this. I basically get paid to be the person who answers questions for new colleagues in the building. Jesus, I have been doing that for free for years anyway. Might as well get paid for it. I had though, prior to today, that the stipend for this position was 1200 dollars. Turns out, it is 2400 dollars. That in addition to the 1,000 dollars I get paid for packing my boxes for our upcoming move to the new school, and the 1,000 I get paid for unpacking said boxes in the new school. Jesus...I love being on a city payroll.

I don't feel like getting into all of this, but because of a state-sanctioned change in the status of my particular area of certification, I have to go through a recertification process that could run me 2500 dollars. Christ. What a joke. I was pissed enough to think that I would probably think about leaving teaching. But seriously...for all the benefits of being on that city payroll, this certificatoin headache (and it will be a headache), will be well worth it in the end.

Ok, enough about that.

Wedding stuff...

I bought a really cute pair of little white fancy flip-flops for the wedding. Sure, I will wear the little heels for the ceremony and the pictures and such, but Lauren popinted out that I might want a pair of cute COMFORTABLE little flip flops for the party portion of the day. Great idea!

This just in...

Stephen and I have these two neighbors (a lesbian couple) whom we have really come to like very much. They have come by a few times to borrow butter for baking or whatever. We chat when we see them around. Anyway, last night, one of the women came by to see if we could help her assemble a fan she'd bought. Her partner was out of town and they had not yet put in their AC. We ended up putting the fan together and had a beer with her. It was fun. Anyway, she just knocked on the door and presented me with a six pack of Sam Adams Summer in the way of a thanks for our help. Too nice. Very unnecessary, but quite appreciated. It is a comfort knowing that we have such nice neighbors whom we could depend upon if we needed something.

Ok, back onto my other random thoughts.

On the T today, a father and son (the kid was about 12) were pointing out and oogling at attractive women. Is this just sick? Maybe I'm just jealous because I was not one of the chosen women. Hmmm...

And finally, I know Lauren brought this up in her blog at one point, but I'm going to revisit the issue, let's talk about the toilets in womens bathrooms being completely covered in piss. Jesus, I can understand it in public bus stations or train temrinals or something, but I swear, every single time I go into my gym (which is a very high-end, almost-100-per-month establishment) every single toilet is covered in piss. Ladies, just sit the fuck down. What is this??

Live from the Watertown Public Library

It is 95 degrees outside and I'm coolin' in the Watertown Public Library. Why not the beach, or the backyard pool, you ask? Well, at noon today I had a dentist appointment here in Watertown. Stephen works here in Watertown, and since we're due to the Inn to make final wedding reception arrangements, we figured we'd just meet up at his work and go together.

I'm sure I mentioned in an earlier post that Stephen's car was stolen from right in front of our building. This had to have been about three weeks ago now. At least. The thing that really bothers me about these morons who stole the car, is that they get to literally walk away from the entire thing scott free, while Stephen has to be held responsible for a 500 dollar insurance deductable, and we are left to suffer the slings and arrows of having no car. We are normally fine without the car, and often don't use it for days on end, but at this point, it would be nice to have one available to us.

So, anyway, I decided against coming to Watertown, leaving, and then turning right back around and battling the bus to come all the way back. Seemed stupid. So, we have to meet at his work, take a bus to a Zip Car, take the Zip Car to Concord, drop off the Zip Car, take the bus to Harvard Square where we'll connect to our final bus home.

Can you see why I am starting to hate the jerks who stole the car?

I was walking around outside, but the heat was getting to me. You won't often hear me say that. So I came into the library and have decided to use the internet here while I kill some time.

There are some poor slobs waiting to use the computers, likely for far more worthwhile pursuits than pointless blogging. Perhaps I'll give them a go on the computer. My time is up anyway.

I like this blogging on the road, thing.

Super Sleuths Are On To Me!

So, it would appear that Reesie and Laurita have both cracked the seemingly impenetrable mystery of where and for whom I am working this summer.

As Reesie would put it, "the store that isn't called 'Orange'" has been an interesting adventure so far. I have had two days of corporate style brainwashing/training and one day of in-store training. Actually, the in-store was more of an abbreviated, 5-hour shift in which we learned more about the actual store than the company itself. I have another full day tomorrow, but won't quite yet be on the sales floor in my full capacity as (I'll rhyme here in order to continue to keep things covert) "Nac Pestialist." I will apparently be in the back room, using a "Nac" to do an online training, complete with quizzes, to learn as much as I possibly can about the "Nac" and "eyeDod" families. Yeah, they're called famlies. I wasn't clever enough to make that up.

To be honest, I'm just psyched about the fact that other than the required company t-shirt, I can wear what the hell ever I want to work. Shorts. Jeans. Skirt. Flip-flops. Whatever. I still haven't been given one of the abovementioned t-shirts, but I think they'll hold off on that one until I'm actually on the salesfloor. They have super-cute ones right now, touting the impending arrival of the product which will be launched on June 29th.

Anyway, it should be an OK job. I'll let you know more about it as I get further along. (In cryptic overtures, of course.)

I should run. Stephen and I have lots of lists to make of the many things that we still have to do before the wedding.

T minus 6 days and counting.

The Two Best Reasons for Becoming a Teacher....July and August!

There is nothing better than school vacation. Sure, I end up working and trying to hustle up some cash to survive for the two months off, but still...not having to face a full day's teaching every day is such a great feeling. Mind you, I enjoy teaching and I like the kids and what have you, but I just LOVE school vacation!

The last day of school was an unheard of early-bird June 14th. There are lots of reasons to celebrate the close of this particular school year.

First of all, there's the insanely early relase date I just mentioned.

Secondly, there's the fact that this is our last year in our temporary holding facility. The new school will be open in Sepetember. And it is gorgeous! I was on the design committee and heavily involved in decisions regarding color, materials, paint, furnishings, etc. It was a pain in the neck sometimes to go to the meetings, but walking through the place has blown me away. I can't wait to take up residence in my new classroom. I'll actually have real cabinetry and a beautiful desk. At my current location, the pipe behind my storage closet rotted out early last year, thus leaving me to resort to using stacks of milk crates to house my books. Beautiful. It always looked so professional for parent conferences. Thank god no parents show up to conferences at my school. Then I'd really have reason to be embarassed. Now my embarassment is purely theoretical in the hypothetical sense of "What if a parent ever turned up for parent conferences and saw these 'shelves.'"? You get my drift. Although the picture shown below is not an actual snapshot of the dumpy state of my temporary classroom, I think it does a fairly accurate job of illustrating the work conditions I've suffered for the past two years.



Yeah, the new school is going to be a much welcome change.

And thirdly, we get paid 3 days worth of our yearly salary for packing up the boxes on this end of the move, and three days pay for unpacking the boxes on the other end of the move. This will work out to about 1,118 for me both this summer and again in the Fall. I love being on a city payroll. And althogh I can often be heard loudly complaining about the fact that I was never provided with any matierals or books to teach social studies, I must admit to having been delighted to find that I had a total of six boxes to pack in order to complete my entire move. I did let guilt take hold and I helped other colleagues, but still...

The last day was filled with joy and sadness as our 8th graders prepared to take leave of us and venture onto the high school. However, any tears quickly gave way to shouts of "PARTY!!" as the kids pulled away on the school bus-come party van on that last day.




I've been very busy ever since the release from school.

The kids got out on Thursday, but we had professional development on Friday. On Saturday and Sunday, I had my corporate training (I mean, BRAINWASHING) for my new job. I am hereby literally banned from ever mentioning the name of my new employer on this or any website for the duration of my time working for them. Honestly. I had to sign confidentiality agreements, and in anticipation of a new product which will hit the market on the 29th, I have had to give my cell phone over at work every day in order to allow the managers to keep tabs of camera phones and shit. Anyway, on Monday and Tuesday, I had to do my packing at school. On Wednesday and Thursday I had tons of errands to do. Then yesterday, Friday, I had my first in-store shift at my new company. This weekend is time to rest and get some wedding stuff done. Monday, back to work at the store for further training. Wednesday and Thursday I have day-long workshops for school. Friday is wedding rehersal.

Saturday......WEDDING!

A Jones-Tastic Evening!

Last night was my big bachelorette party. The party itself wasn't a secret. Lauren planned it, and she told me the date and time and all the essential details up front. In fact, I provided her a lot of my friends' contact into, etc. Hell, she even told me where the thing was going to take place. I was all prepared for a quiet, mellow night out with some girlfriends. A few drinks. A bit to eat. A few laughs. Sounded perfect.

I arrived at the bar, Madison's on the Avenue, at the appointed hour of 6:30 and immediately noticed my friends, Peter and Michael, standing there. Hmmm....I was a bit surprised by their presence. After all, Lauren had claimed that it would be all girls. It didn't take me long to realize that Meg's boyfriend, Jon, was also in the house, as were Stephen, and Gene, the designated DJ.

As soon as I entered, Gene started spinning some Tom Jones..... a perfect party kick-off if you ask me.

I thought that the Jack and Jill nature of the party might be the extent of the surprise, but even as that thought crossed my mind, my eyes were panning the room, and realizing that there were even more little treats in store.

First of all, a whole collection of old Tom Jones record album covers adorned the walls, showing Jones in a variety of poses and showcasing the variety in his personal styles throughout the span of his decades-long career. There was "sausage in the pants Jones," "Roman-God-being-fed-grapes-by-voluptuous-women Caesar's-Palace Jones," "Contemplative Profile with Mutton Chops Jones" and, of course, "hairy-chested shirtless Jones." These record albums would serve two purposes. First, of course, they were there to decorate the dump. Secondly, later in the evening, there would be a contest where the winners would be allowed to select a Jones album, in which various treats and prizes were hidden. This contest involved Lauren having written down little bits of information about me, and then giving the cards out to people. When I drew a phrase, name, place, the person with the matching card would be allowed to come select an album. I was lucky enough to win once, and I wasted no time in adding the Jones at Caesar's Palace album to my already vast empire of Jones nick-nacks, trinkets, and baubles.

Let me also make mention, right here, of the fabulous cake! Lauren and Trish were in cahoots to put this together. The photo of Jones in the banana hammock, lying there in his full glory, is just WRONG. Jesus, hasn't anybody ever told this clown about WAXING!!?? Becky had a point when she said that Jones could easily have been featured in the VH-1 show about celebs who should NOT be seen in swimwear in public. I think the "help yourself" banner is, quite literally, the "icing on the cake" here.





The even rolled along nicely. There was a great crowd of people, lots of good food, and a generally festive mood.

Still, though, even the genial atmosphere and the addition of my good guy friends to the party, did not constitute the full extent of the surprises Lauren had up her sleeve for this fiesta.

At one point, Maggie, who is planning her own wedding, approached me and engaged me in a very intense conversation about the slings and arrows of wedding preparations. I was so engrossed in what she was saying, and not envying her being in the initial planning phases, that I didn't even notice that there was some interesting activity taking place behind me.

I did hear a hideous bout of feedback coming from the sound system at one point, and immediately lept to the conclusion that Gene was tanked and being incompetent with the DJ equipment. I was going to turn around and bust his chops, but Maggie had me riveted, so I never got around to it.

Just as things quieted down behind me, Gene announced, "Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Tom Jones." Flummoxed, I turned around to see what was up. Why the hell was Gene announcing the arrival of Tom Jones?

Before I Had a chance to truly process that question, this Tom Jones impersonator walked out and took center stage, immedately lapsing into a rousing version of "Its Not Unusual." According to Lauren, in my initial phases of shock, I burst out with, "Jesus! Where the hell did you get this guy?" Apparently I said this right in the guy's face. But, he didnt' seem to be the least bit troubled or phased by it. I'm sure that when you eke out your livelihood by impersonating Jones, you hear that a lot.




Anyway, the above shows Jones just as he entered the room. The onlookers were obviously delighted with the performance. As you can see, the outfit was somewhat dubious (the sanitation worker jacket was a little strange), but I can assure you that the moves and the mannerisms were dead on. The guy could not have been more legit. It was hilarious!!!

Talk about shocking! I had no idea. Lauren kept asking me later if I really was utterly clueless before hand. I am not sure how I can guarantee her that I could never have imagined in my wildest dreams that Jones would show up at my bachelorette party!! Ha ha.



Here is a beautiful action shot, showcasing Jones and his masterful seranading/seduction skills. As you can well see, Lauren, Meg and I were swooning!



Here I am, cutting a rug with Jones! At least, I was trying to cut a rug. I couldn't hold a candle to this chump in the coreogreaphy department.



And finally, the above picture shows me and Jones doing a little duet together. I especially like the fact that the "Got Jones" shirt that Lauren ordered me specifically for the occasion was so prominently on display.

And by the way, yeah, I got Jones!

At any rate, the eats, the company, the entertainment, and the hooch were all first rate.

So...to Lauren, who organized the entire thing and really put a ton of effort into it...THANKS!!!

And to my lovely guests,

Lauren, Gene, Meg, Jon, Stephen, Liz, Kathleen, Bailey, Jackie, Faye, Becky, Reesie, Jules, Maryanne, Karen, Maggie, Maura, Sophia, Beth, E, Julie B., Peter, Michael, Barbara and Jenn (and if I've forgotten anybody I'm sorry!!), THANK YOU!!! It was a night I'll never forget.

Strate Up Bitches.

Let me just begin by saying that the bathrooms in my school are in a deplorable state. They are rotten. Filthy. Gross. Try as the janitor may (and he makes a valiant effort), he just cannot stay on top of the situation. The kids are constantly in there writing hideous things on the walls, stuffing rolls of toilet paper down the sinks and toilets, and just generally trashing the place.

Anyway, today one of my students told me that there was a "rude message" about me and my teaching colleague on the wall. I pretended not to care, but right after dismissal, I rounded up my colleague and we went down to search for the evidence.

We donned our haz-mat suits and made sure that our wills were up to date and then we ventured in.

The first thing I noticed was that since my last trip in there, the four stalls have been designated (unofficially by the students, of course) as grade level gossip stalls. The mean stuff about 5th grade students and teachers is confined to the first stall, the sixth grade to the second stall, etc. The seventh and eighth grade stalls are the third and fourth respectively.

In the 7th grade stall, one line of graffiti says, "I hate Ms. B (that's me) she's a bitch." The remark right next to it says, "Ms. B and Ms. L, STRATE UP BITCHES."

All my colleague and I could do was laugh and remind ourselves that we are, after all, middle school teachers. This is par for the course.

And to be honest, I'm pretty sure that I am a strate up bitch sometimes, so it can't be entirely undeserved.

Hardly a Dull Moment

Aren't weekends supposed to be relaxing? Well, this weekend has been anything but for me.

It all started Friday night when I had to not only attend a retirement party for a few of my colleagues, but I also had to make a "special presentation" to one of the honored retirees. Now, the thing is that this woman is absolutely lovely, and it was a pleasure and a delight to say a bunch of nice things about her in front of a big group of people. However, I really didn't feel like I could just go and relax and numb the slings and arrows of this group retirement function with a few glasses of cheap wine. I had to actually be on my toes enough to get up there and make a meaningful dedication to this woman in front of her entire family and colleagues past and present.

I was really aiming for some kind of speech that would capture the essence of this woman's very special way with kids and to do justice to the many years she dedicated to her students. Apparently I was successful in this endeavor because the woman's daughter was teary-eyed throughout the presentation, and her husband admitted to "having come close to shed a tear myself once or twice."

Anyway, never fear. I retired to the bar to partake of that cheap wine brain-numbing exercise immediately following my speech.

I forgot to mention that since the party started at 7, and since one of my colleagues and I decided we'd go together, we decided to motivate ourselves to stay around school from release time (2:30) until 6:30 in order to do some packing for our move to the new school.

Great idea.

The school has no air conditioning, and a tempermental elevator. I was packing crap books into heavy trash bags and hauling them down to the outside trash dumpster. It must have taken me about 20 trips up and down to get rid of half of the shit I need to dump. We were told that we can't put books directly into the trash dumpster because neighbors might see them and question why they are being thrown away. Best to keep them hidden in trash bags because I'm sure those neighbors would want the kids to continue learning from geography books that continue to list the GDP per capita of the United States as $11,000 and make countless references to "colored Americans" and "The Soviet Union."

Jesus.

Anyway, after all this work, I was disgusting. Luckily I had thought to bring a change of clothes, some facial cleanser, deodorant and some other "Irish Shower" essentials.

The retirement party went on until around midnight, and although it was very nice, I was practically asleep by the end of it.


We got some wedding stuff done this weekend.




We met with our very cool DJ and picked out the "essential dance" songs. I think we have some good ones. The DJ himself (after 28 years in the biz) was even impressed with some of our selections. We're doing the Phil Collins "Groovy Kind of Love" for the first dance. Always loved that one. We'll leave the rest of our selections a surprise. There's gotta be some element of excitement.




And the boys, Stephen, the Maniac, John and Gene, went to take care of the tuxedo business today. I did not accompany them. From their description, everything sounds like its on the up and up.




While the guys were out tux shopping, E and I watched my best girls, Allie and Caroline. They are both gorgeous, as you can clearly see. And that little spit-fire, Caroline, is getting more and more talkative evrey day. She's going to be reciting Shakespeare very soon!!! I love both of these kids so much.

Following the tuxedo adventure, Stephen, Gene and I sat and watched the Red Sox kick some Yankees pinstripied backside.



OK, I've got a baby shower to get through tomorrow. After that and a quick trip to the gym, I'm going to sit on my bum and do nothing for the remainder of Sunday evening.