Ripped Shorts

Want me to let you in on a little secret?

Come closer to the computer...I don't want anyone else to hear it...

Marriage isn't always fun.

*GASP!*  I know you're gasping right now.  I'm sorry to have to rock your world like this.  It's not.  Sometimes it's work.  Sometime's it's compromise.  Oh, you want an example?  Sure.  I've got one.  Sometimes I have to let Rex dress himself when we go to parties, even though he might look ridiculous.  You know, because I have to respect his individuality or whatever.

A good example of this is when we went to a dinner party for a lady at his work.  I had just gone to a wedding with Rex the evening prior, where he had worn a shirt and tie and looked very nice (because I told him he had to and picked out his clothes).  Therefore I felt that I needed to back off and not tell him what to wear to this dinner party.  When he came downstairs in ripped shorts, a blue collared beer shirt with "Rex" embroidered on the front, black socks, and a camouflage hat, I shook my head but stayed quiet.  I'm his wife, not his mom.  If he wants to look like a weirdo, that's on him.

When we got to the party, he got a couple weird looks (duh), but my absolute favorite moment of the night came when Lindy, the hostess's eighteen-year-old daughter, said, "Okay Rex.  Um...explain your outfit to me."  He acted surprised and said, "What?  What's wrong with my outfit?"  I almost spit my lemonade out from laughing.  Lindy continued, "No!  It's just that...I want to be laughing with you, not at you, so you need to explain the ripped shorts and why you look like a mechanic mixed with a lumberjack."

THANK YOU, LINDY!!!

I seriously could have hugged her.  These are the things I can't say to Rex.  Rex, suddenly (possibly?) realizing that he looked ridiculous, tried to defend himself:  "I love these shorts!  I've had them since I was sixteen!  See, these shorts are really a metaphor for life: once I find something I love, I never let it go.  So maybe they have a few rips in them, maybe they're not as great as they once were, but do I stop wearing them?  No!  I am loyal!  This should be comforting to Christine.  If she ever gets old and fat or stops being all awesome like she is now, she knows that I'll never let her go because I never let anything go once I really love it.  Like these shorts."

Which, you know, was a little bit sweet in it's own weird, Rexish way...but I still want to burn those dumb shorts.  Lindy tried to make sense of the rest of the outfit, but eventually gave up because...come on...the outfit made no sense.  At least it was Rex's work party and not mine.  I have my school picnic on Friday, and I'm already trying to figure out a way to dress him while letting him think he came up with the outfit himself...hmmm...  Maybe I'll call Lindy for help.

The Things We Do for Love

Rex has picked up a new hobby: grouse hunting.

This is kind of like saying, "Michael Jordan picked up a new hobby...it's called basketball."  Or "Italy picked up a new hobby...it's called pasta."  Rex is SO into grouse hunting.  He eats/sleeps/breathes grouse hunting.  He doesn't even go on facebook anymore because he found a new social media site that's "way better" and only for grouse hunters.  Because if you're not a grouse hunter, why on earth would he want to keep up on anything going on in your life?  He wouldn't.  Duh.

We've put well over $1,000 into our (his) ridiculously crazy hunting dog, Ruby.  There's buying the puppy itself, then vet appointments, shots, special collars, etc. etc. etc.  This is an expensive hobby.  I wish my hobby (writing) would start making some money so that we could afford his!

Anyway, this weekend Rex was running Ruby through the woods at his grandparents' farm (it's not hunting season yet, so she wasn't hunting anything).  I asked if I could go with him for two reasons: 1. I am a supportive wife, and 2. I wanted to see what all of the fuss is about.  He said sure, so we went together.

It's not that I don't LIKE grouse hunting...

...I mean, it's pretty fun when you really think about it...

...sort of...

...if you think about it in a certain way...

Okay here's the thing: I was completely unprepared.  I had no idea what I was doing.  I wore jeans and a t-shirt.  Rex wore a hunting vest with hiking boots and literal chaps (like a cowboy - CHAPS).  I thought he looked stupid until I got all sorts of briars and prickers in my legs.  Then I wished that I was wearing chaps too.  Ruby looked like something off of a sci-fi show with her millions of collars and antennae and bells strapped on her before we left ("This one's the GPS collar, this one's the e-collar, this antenna tracks her..." etc.  I tuned him out but nodded appreciatively and pretended I knew what he was saying).

We started walking through the woods, and I whispered something to Rex.  He answered back in a totally normal voice and said, "Why are you whispering?"  Umm...I don't know, because we are HUNTING!??!  I thought you always had to be quiet during hunting.  Apparently birds don't care about that, which I didn't know.  Oops.

Hunting with a dog (even when we're not actually hunting) means that you follow the dog through all sorts of thick brush and thickly wooded areas.  Our dumb dog doesn't know how to use her nose yet, so we were literally just following her around while she frolicked through the forest.  I put my hand on a tree to steady myself at one point, and a slug fell on my arm.  I didn't want Rex to think I was a weenie, so I obviously couldn't be all, "Ewwwww!!! A SLUG!" but I'm sorry: ewwwww...a slug.  It slimed me.

I got all kinds of scratches and bug bites, I got dirt all over, and I couldn't help thinking, "Ummm...why does Rex think this is fun?"  Then I looked at Ruby, and I got a little idea of why.  I have never seen a dog so happy.  She was bounding through the woods with the biggest smile on her face, her tongue lolling out to the side, and her eyes round and bright as if to say, "THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER!!!!!"  Then I looked at my husband, and I realized he looked basically the same way (minus the tongue lolling out of his mouth, because that would be weird and somewhat concerning).  So even though I made the mistake of putting my hand on another tree and accidentally touching a giant spider (again: EW), I decided that maybe this isn't so bad after all.  If it makes my family happy, it makes me happy.  I just need to get some chaps and bug spray.  Also maybe some gloves so I don't have to touch any more nasties crawling on the trees.

*sigh*  Why can't he pick up an easy/cheap hobby like stargazing or reading Shakespeare?

Airport Blogging (again)

I always blog in airports.  Next time someone asks me what my hobbies are, I’m going to say, “Mostly blogging in airports.”  It’s a good hobby, because it combines my love of travel and my love of writing.  It’s a 2-for-1 hobby.  If there’s something else I love besides blogging in airports, it’s getting a good deal.  Therefore this is the hobby for me.

I’m in the Baltimore airport this time.  I’m with my mom, and we’re headed to Vermont by way of Boston.  I have a doctor’s appointment in New Hampshire tomorrow, but tonight we’re headed to Vermont solely so that I can cross Vermont off of my “50 by 30” bucket list (I want to see all 50 states by the time I turn 30…it seemed like a silly goal a while ago, but when I realized I only have five left to go, I figured why not give it a shot?  After today, I’ll only have four more to go, and I’m only 26.  Maybe I can actually do this!).  I didn’t participate much in planning this trip, as I’ve been simultaneously winding down from my international trips and gearing up for the new school year.  My mom planned the whole thing…which is already turning out to be interesting.

First of all, we almost drove to Detroit when we were flying out of Grand Rapids.  That would have been bad.  Now that we’re chilling in Baltimore, I took the opportunity to ask my mom where we were going in Vermont.  After all, it’s a small state, but there are still a lot of options.  I figured maybe we’d go to the capitol or one of the scenic New England trail locations or something.  She told me that we were going to a little town called “Brattleborough.”  She chose it because it’s right across the border into Vermont from New Hampshire.  Okay Mom, no prob.  I bet there’s lot’s to do there.

There isn’t.  I looked up Brattleborough on my phone, and I am telling you – this town is WEIRD.  I went to the town’s website, and it is vastly boring.  I went to the special events page to see what’s going on this weekend.  Nothing is.  If you wait until September 13, you could be there for “Town Caring Day.”  WHAT?!  We’re missing Town Caring Day?!  Send me back to Michigan.  If I’m not in Brattleborough for Town Caring Day, I see no point in going.  My mom loved the idea of Caring Day.  I said it's dumb because now everyone in the town can be rude jerks to us, and we can't even complain.  They'll just say, "Sorry, you should have come on Town Caring Day.  Today we don't care."

Another special event this month is that some lady is showing an “exhibition” of some pictures she took on her trip to India.  Don’t get me wrong – I love travel pictures.  But is a lady showing pictures from her trip really importnat enough to put on the city events page?!  I feel like striding into the town square (because let’s be honest here, there’s probably a town square) and yelling, “Hear ye, hear ye!  Residents of Brattleborough!  I too have ventured beyond the city limits!  Gather round while I regale you with tales of adventure and suspense!”  Then they can add me to their city events page.

I decided to go to Trip Advisor to see what to do in Brattleborough because the town’s page wasn’t too helpful.  Unfortunately, Trip Advisor wasn’t too helpful either.  Looks like Brattleborough’s bustling tourist industry includes a bowling alley, a thrift shop, and an organ museum (organ the instrument, not the body parts...though the body parts one would have been infinitely more interesting).  My mom and I are in for a weird day.

As I was doing this research, I got a facebook message from my little sister.  She’s setting up her classroom in Albania, and she wanted to know if my mom and I were available to Skype.  Because we were sitting in an airport with nothing to do but dream of bowling in Brattleborough, we said yes.  My mom tried to get Skype on her tablet, and she…well…had issues.  I tried to help, but eventually I said, “okay, just give me that” and did it myself.  We finally got Cara called on Skype, and I handed the tablet back to my mom.  Our connection wasn’t great because of the slow WiFi, so it was difficult to see/hear Cara at first.  My mom talked right into the microphone (because this is what parents always seem to do on facetime/skype), and suddenly I heard Cara yelling, “MOM!  Back up!  MOM!  I CAN ONLY SEE YOUR TOOTH!  I can’t see Christine!”  I showed my mom how it was supposed to work, and she backed up.  Then Cara demonstrated to us what she had seen on her end (essentially just one tooth), and I was laughing so hard I was crying.  Parents and technology don’t mix.  

(For the record, I am laughing out loud as I am writing this because it was seriously that funny.  The people sitting next to me on the plane think I’m a wackadoo.  Oh by the way, writing this blog post has moved from the airport to the plane.  I hope you’re enjoying my journey).

We skyped with Cara for a few minutes, but the connection finally died for real.  Perhaps we’ll try again when we get to our hotel in Brattleborough (if, you know, that town has heard of WiFi, which I am not taking for granted).  Right as the connection died, we heard some clapping a couple of gates over from us.  It turns out a few World War II veterans had just gotten off of a plane, and some people were holding small flags and wheeling their wheelchairs through the airport.  All the people at that gate stood and clapped in respect for the men.  As they were wheeled closer to us, the people at the next gate stood too.  Then our gate did.  As the men were wheeled through the airport, the people at every gate stood up and clapped in respect for the men who had served our country.  It was so beautiful.  Then one of the old men started to cry, and I just about lost it.  Some Navy officers walked behind, accompanying the veterans to wherever they were going, and we clapped for them too.  America is cool sometimes.

Now I’m zipping through the air enjoying this view, and waiting for what adventures (or not) await in Vermont.

***UPDATE***  I couldn’t write this on the plane, but the lady who sat next to me on the flight was a TOTAL NUTTER.  She was an older lady with gray-blonde hair put up in a loose bun, she was wearing a denim shirt with mom jeans, and she had those huge bug eye glasses with very clearly striated trifocal lenses.  Okay, can you picture her?  Great.  When the plane started accelerating to take off, she started mumbling and counting quietly on her fingers.  When the plane finally left the ground, she stopped counting, looked at me, and said, “Good. It must be full of fuel.”  Ummm…okay.  Then, later, she said, “Look!” excitedly and pointed to the cloud picture I posted above.  I, being a mostly normal and sane person, thought she meant, “Look at those beautiful clouds!”  Indeed they were beautiful.  Instead, she said, “Look!  I think that’s Danny’s remains!”  Then she started frantically snapping pictures of Danny’s remains before they could dissipate again.  I almost asked…but I really didn’t want to know.  I smiled and tried to get really focused on my blog so she wouldn’t talk to me again.

Whew.  What a day.  And it’s not even over yet.

Fake Diamonds

Getting fake engaged isn't as easy as it used to be.

Prior to yesterday, I'd forgotten all about the April Fool's Joke that Rex and I played back when we were eighteen.  I was leaving for a senior year spring break trip with my girlfriends, and Rex bought me a fake engagement ring from Meijer.  While sitting in the airport with my girls, I made the "happy announcement" that Rex and I were engaged.  They were shocked and horrified, as another girl in our class really was engaged at the time, and we'd all discussed how the idea of being engaged while still in high school was completely insane.  They tried to act happy-ish to not make me mad, but also said things such as, "I mean...are you absolutely sure this is what you want?"  They were extremely relieved when they found out it was only a joke.

I thought about this yesterday because it would have been really handy if I still had that fake engagement ring.

My wedding ring is the most beautiful one I've ever seen (I know all y'all have beautiful wedding rings, but mine's my favorite.)  I love it, and I would be extremely sad if anything ever happened to it.  The center stone in the ring was a little wobbly yesterday, and this made me nervous.  It would be very expensive to replace that diamond if it fell out.  I took the ring to our jeweler, and he agreed to send the ring out to have the diamond reset (for free, because Rex has a lifetime warranty on that ring.  Phewf!  Go Rex!).  Unfortunately, that means I'm wedding ring-less for the next week and a half.

I feel really weird when I don't wear my wedding ring, and I knew it would be especially weird this weekend because Rex and I are going to a family wedding where lots of out-of-town relatives will be there.  His family is really close, and rumors spread fast.  I didn't want anyone to see that neither Rex nor I were wearing our wedding rings and start rumors that our marriage is on the rocks.  Rex has his ring on his keychain because it gets in his way when working on patients.  I'm fine with that, but I do think it would be a little weird for neither of us to be wearing a ring, especially to a large family wedding (where everyone inevitably looks at wedding rings).

I needed a new ring.  I had no idea where the fake one from high school was, so I decided to go shopping and get a new one.  After all, how often do I have the excuse, "Sorry Rex, I HAD to go buy new jewelry?  No way around it."  I was instantly excited by this idea.  I love rings, even fake ones.  What cut did I want?  Princess?  Emerald?  Marquis?  Fake white gold or fake yellow gold?  Did I want one with side stones or a solitaire?  So many choices...  I wished I would have had some warning on this.  I should have planned ahead.  Every girl should have a gorgeous fake wedding ring waiting in the wings for such a time as this.  I can't believe I didn't think of that before.  Really, this sounds like an I idea I would have come up with prior to yesterday.  Alas.  I was unprepared.

I went to a few different stores in the mall looking for cheap rings, but nothing was really exciting to me.  I found a pretty fake sapphire ring reminiscent of Princess Diana/Duchess Kate's ring, but I decided I couldn't buy that one because then Rex would say, "Why didn't you just wear the sapphire ring I already bought you?"  (He's bought me a ring in every gemstone because...well...I think he might actually believe I'm a princess.  Shhh...no one tell him I'm not).  I only have one diamond ring, though (well, two...but the other one's in the shape of a bow so it's OBVIOUSLY not wedding ring material).  I needed a fake diamond.  I wanted it to look semi-realistic, too, not like a five-carat monstrosity that could only be afforded by a Kardashian if it was real.  Apparently realistic fake wedding rings are not as easy to find as they were back in 2007.

Eventually I settled on one from JC Penny.  I don't love it, but it was only $10.  I guess it will make me that much happier when I finally get my real ring back.

Oh, hi there

Hello, you!  You're still following this blog?  The one I've abandoned all summer?  How kind of you!

This summer has easily been the most life-changing summer I've ever had.  That includes the summer that I lived at the Crookston farm.  That also includes the summer that I graduated from college and got married.  That should show you how significant it was. I mean, I'm currently sitting at my desk at school (not supposed to be working - don't worry.  I'm still on summer break).  I'm looking at the date on my whiteboard: "June 1, 2015."  I feel like I don't even recognize the woman who wrote that date almost three months ago.  To dig into the complexities of these differences would fill pages of blog that you don't have time to read and I don't have time to write.  Just know that I came out of this summer stronger, smarter, more globally-minded, and way less naive.  I feel like I'm going to look back at the summer of 2015 as "the summer when I grew up."  Seriously.  This is strange, as I'm twenty-six, married, a homeowner, and five years into a stable career.  By all appearances, I should have already been grown up.  I think I thought I was.  Newsflash: I wasn't.

I'm not the only one who changed this summer.  My pantry did too.  I opened the door today and laughed at the fact that two staples of my current diet had never been in my house prior to this summer:

Nutella was a favorite in Germany, and soba noodles were a favorite in Japan.  To give you an idea: this morning I ate a croissant with jam and nutella for breakfast, then for lunch I ate that box of soba noodles.  Oh, and I ate them with chopsticks.  Rex and I both eat Asian food at least once a week now, and we actually use the nice set of metal chopsticks that I bought in Korea.  Just in case those ones ever get old, I also bought a set in Japan that are on standby.  My one food regret is that I can't get gimbop in the United States.  This was my favorite food in Korea. I'm wondering if I can learn how to cook it.  Maybe I should ask one of the moms at my school.  They can cook anything.

Anyway, I just wanted to check in - let you know I'm back - and promise that this blog will be back to normal as soon as possible.  Even though I'm back in Michigan, I'm sure I'll find some adventures to be had.  I always do.  :-)

World Wide Webb

A conversation with a coworker today:

Coworker: Which class did you teach last week?
Me: I didn't teach last week.  I was in Japan.
Coworker:  Oh, cool.  Which class are you teaching next week?
Me: Ummm...I'm not actually teaching next week either.
Coworker:  Why not?
Me: I'll be in Germany.

WHAT IS MY LIFE RIGHT NOW?!

I'm not usually so globe-trotter-y.  It's a lot of fun, but it's very, very different than my everyday life.  If you haven't been following, you can follow my international adventures at worldwidewebb2015.wordpress.com.  I've been having the time of my life, but I also feel like I've been learning so much (both professionally and personally) that my brain is about to explode.  Bad news: I'm only halfway through the adventures, meaning I still have so much to learn.  Ahhhhh!  I don't know if I can handle more learning!!

I only have six days at home between the two trips, and I'm already halfway through that.  My laundry isn't done, the house is a mess, and I'm absolutely not over jet lag.  Somehow it's all going to pull together by Friday, though, because then I'm off again.

Follow me over on World Wide Webb if you're not already.  I wanted to stop in and say hello to this real life blog for a moment, but I'm off to fantasy land again really soon.  It's a strange summer.  I'll be updating this blog again when I get back, so let's go hang out on Wordpress for a few weeks and I'll meet you back here in August.  Sayonara!  Aufwiederzein!  Goodbye!

Copiers and Octopi

It's like a bad joke: what does a copy machine and an octopus have in common?

Answer: they both spray you with ink in self-defense.

If I told that joke at a party, the people would laugh nervously and look at each other as if to say, "Ummm...I don't get it."  But if someone told ME that joke, I would laugh hysterically because I know how a copy machine reacts when it is threatened.

I'm sitting comfortably in my living room, sipping lemonade and celebrating being on summer vacation.  NOW this story is funny.  At the time, it was kind of stressful.

Ask any teacher about the last week of school, and they'll probably tell you that they don't remember much of it.  That's because it's a blur of final projects, graduation preparations, tearful goodbyes, grading, and cleaning.  It's busy.

It was the third-to-last day of school, and the other two junior high teachers were on a caving field trip with the eighth and ninth graders (perk of a small school - awesome field trips).  I was holding down the fort and getting ready to copy some tests for my sixth and seventh graders when it happened: the copier broke down.  Our junior high science teacher doubles as our tech support guy (downside of a small school: staff members do a bunch of different jobs), and he was gone.  I quickly assessed that this situation was very bad.  If I couldn't fix the copier, we were going to be without copies for three days until he got back.  That was obviously unacceptable.  I don't know how schools in the past functioned without copiers.

I had five minutes until class started: it was on.  Teacher vs Copier, season 1 (I would watch that show).

I punched random buttons on the error screen until the copier told me that it had no toner.  Ah ha!  No toner.  This should be easy to fix.

Except for what, exactly, is toner, and where do I get some?

The kindergarten teacher walked into the room, and she too was wildly dismayed by our deficient copier and the absence of our tech guy.  As all kindergarten teachers are, she was optimistic and upbeat, saying that we could probably find some toner in a cupboard somewhere and figure out how to install it.  She looked for the toner while I tried to find the toner area on the copier.  I opened the belly of the copier, and this is when the copier started feeling threatened.  I found a white box with some black stuff in it, and I asked, "is this the toner?"  The kindergarten teacher said yes, so I took it out.  Now the copier was really mad.  I peeked in a small hole in the top of the box, and I said, "it doesn't look like the toner is empty..."  I gave it a tentative shake to see if I could see toner swishing around (because I thought that maybe toner swishes).  I gave it a SMALL, TENTATIVE shake.  I promise you.  I wasn't waving it around in a toner frolic or anything, even though that's what it looked like I did.

The toner (still not sure what this is, exactly) made a small "poof" noise and exploded ALL OVER THE COPY ROOM.  It's a black powder that is inky and very difficult to clean, let me tell you.  I had toner all over me, on the copier, on the floor, on the wall....everywhere.  You win, copier.  Then the bell rang to start class.  Perfect.  The kindergarten teacher laughed sympathetically and hurried off to class (she wasn't standing next to me at the time of the explosion and therefore was clean), but I couldn't leave the room covered in copier debris.  I had to clean it up.

I poked my head into class and told the kids to get started on their math assignments.  One of them asked why I had black stuff in my hair...and on my arms..and on my skirt...  I told them there was a copier mishap, and I had to go handle it.  (I wanted to say, "there was a battle in the copy room, and I am a casualty," but that sounded a bit dramatic).  They offered to help, and I said the best way they could help would be to work quietly while I handled the situation.  They (mostly) did that, which bought me about ten minutes to try to clean up the mess.

Even with ten minutes, I couldn't get much cleaned up.  Toner mostly just smears around and makes everything inky.  I was grateful that our janitor was gone for the day, because I was pretty sure he would murder me if he saw the state of the copy room.  I finally gave up and went back to class.  One of the other staff members called our office supply company and asked if they could send a tech out to fix our copier.  He said he'd be there by noon.

When the tech guy arrived, he popped his head into my classroom.
Techie: Hey there, are you sure there weren't two toner cartridges dropped in that room?
Me: Yes, I'm quite sure it was only the one.
Techie:  Wow.  That was the worst toner spill I've ever seen.
Me: Yeah... (not sure how to respond to this.  I'm ashamed and also a little proud).
Techie:  Whoever tried to fix that toner cartridge, it would probably be better if they didn't ever try to fix the copy machine ever again.
Me: Yep, I totally agree with you.  Never again.
Techie:  I mean, it was really bad.
Me: Yep.
Techie:  Don't worry - I know it wasn't you who did it.  You're nice and clean.
Me: Actually...it was me.  I looked pretty bad around 8 AM.
Techie: Really?  Oh.  Sorry... (he looks really embarrassed, but I don't think he needs to be.  I know I'm the copier klutz).
Me:  No really, it's okay.  I know it was quite the spill.  Thanks for cleaning it and fixing our copier!  You totally saved the day!
Techie:  No prob.  (hustles out of the awkward situation).

So it was a crazy morning, but the sixth hour test was still given as scheduled!  All's well that ends well.  I bet there's still toner lurking in some of the corners of that room - my legacy at my school.