This Made My Day

I got carded today, people!

I went to the grocery store to get some sandwiches to take to the Polo match and I grabbed a six pack while I was there.

I’m in line and the cashier looks at me skeptically and says “Um, do you have I.D,?”

So I say “I most certainly do and you are gonna feel so dumb when you see how old I am.”

So she looks at the license and hands it back to me. Nothing. No reaction.

She looks at the bagboy and says “Guess how old she is.”

And I am thinking “Crap, don’t EVEN go there with me….”

And he says, “Thirty.”

And I say “I love you.”

And the bagboy? He is like all shocked and can’t believe it. And I am like so in love with him right now….I mean, I could really kiss him……

Cause I am SO thirty-nine-ish, people. I am not even kidding. And for the first time in ten years I am not looking forward to my birthday.

But if I’m that close to forty and someone thinks I’m thirty? Heck, bring it on!

I guess it must be what’s in my jeans genes?

Or that kid is really good at kissing ass.

Weird Little Meme

Heather, over at Cool Zebras, tagged me for this weird meme. Should it bother me that I had trouble narrowing down the weird things about myself down to the top six?

Here are the rules:

“According to the rules… Each player of this game starts with the “6 Weird Things about You”. People who get tagged need to write a blog of their own 6 weird things as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names. Don’t forget to leave a comment that says ‘you are tagged’ in their comments and tell them to read your blog!”

Six Weird Things About Kim

1. Christmas music makes me want to cry. I really can’t explain this. For as long as I can remember, hearing Christmas music depresses me. It can be any kind of Christmas song, too. Hence the reason that I do not play much of it during the holidays, and switch the radio station when they play a holiday song. And also the reason that my family has been referring to me as the Humbug around here lately. Wish I knew the answer to this one. *sigh*

2. I have an uncontrollable urge to sit crosslegged at the dinner table each night. Maybe it was all those years in Girl Scouts that it has become ingrained in me to sit Indian Style, but I only have the urge to do it when I am at home. I never feel the need at a restaurant or at anyone else’s dinner table. But I’m starting to think it may be genetic, because Allison has begun to do the same thing….and it’s making me crazy because we keep bumping knees!

3. Like Heather, I have a thing about open kitchen cabinets. But you can add the closet door and the bathroom light to the list, too. I cannot sit and eat a thing until all those cabinets are closed in the kitchen and the bathroom light is off, which my kids have a terrible habit of leaving on. But sleep with the closet door open?? No way! There might be a monster in there….

4. If the cup does not have a lid, keep your damn straw. Because I won’t use it. And while you are at it, please be sure that my drink is chock full of ice. Gotta chew on it when the drink is gone.

5. When I leave the house, I have to come back in the house at least three times to be sure that the iron is unplugged, that the flat iron is off, and that the door is locked. Or to spray my hair once more with the hairspray, or to change my shoes or earrings, or to grab a bottle of water…..um, am I starting to sound a little OCD to you?

6. This one is the hardest to admit to….*cough*wince*cough* I’d say at least half the time I excuse myself to use the restroom, I do not actually have to pee. *she whispers* I am checking myself in the mirror. Two words. Hair insecurity. I know. Shallow. *hangs head in shame*

I’m tagging Emily from Emily’s Unhealthy Obsessions, Kim from After the Ball, Damselfly from Growing a Life, Julie from mothergoosemouse, The Fat Lady Sings, and wordgirl.

Have fun!

The Worst Present Ever

Ann Marie over at A Mama’s Rant is having a contest for the Worst Present Ever. Here is my entry. If you have a present that you think could beat hers (used nail clippers), then visit her and find out how to enter.

When you are a teacher, when Christmas rolls around you can be the recipient of any number of various and sundry holiday gifts. For many years I was employed at a very affluent private school teaching first grade, and when Christmas came you pretty much hit the jackpot. Not that I think teacher gifts are necessary, but truthfully, they are so appreciated. And these people? They see teacher gifts as a “gratuity” of sorts, and give generously just as they would tip any other service profession like a hairdresser, nail tech, mailman, etc. Plus most of them just have money to burn. The gifts might run anywhere from hundred dollar gift cards to the mall, or restaurants, expensive bottles of wine or champagne, jewelry and many times just plain old cash.

Last year, there was a sweet little boy from an extremely wealthy family in my class. We’ll call him Jonathan. He was precious, but had several learning issues that required much patience and nurturing on my part to help him through. His mother, however, was not nearly as sweet. The year had begun on the wrong foot for her because the kindergarten teacher had placed him in my class and she had had her heart set on a different first grade teacher for her son. No matter how much the K teacher tried to explain that her son would fit best with my teaching style, this woman could not accept it. And I was the one who paid for it all year, even though I had done absolutely nothing wrong to this woman or her son. She wanted what she wanted, and that was that.

So the last day before the holiday break arrives and the kids bustle into school, arms laden with gifts for their teachers. After the children leave for the day I began to check out the pile when I find one medium sized rectangular box that hinted of a box of chocolates. Yum. It was from Jonathan. I unwrapped the package and removed the lid from the box and there was indeed candy inside.

But about eight of them were missing and the box had then been rewrapped in saran wrap, recovered, wrapped and sent to school! Clearly this mom’s way of showing me, yet again how she felt about me.

Yes, it was a little insulting, but I really knew that deep down this gift had nothing to do with me. It had everything to do with this woman and how she felt inside. Not about how she felt about me. And so I shrugged it off, but we laugh about that gift as probably the worst gift ever to this day.