What was I Thinking When I Said Yes?

Notice the boxed country on the above continent: BrownBear leaves in approximately 24 hours for Ecuador. Uh, with a group of 8th graders from school. All prayers and good thoughts would be appreciated. Trust me. I'm the nervous wreck.

Bits and Pieces

Ungraded papers are beginning to pile up, the laundry is still wet and I have ditched choir practice to remedy this situation. (And here I sit in my pajamas.)

Early voting in my state - it only took me an hour and twenty minutes on Monday; people, it's not over until it's over. I saw all kinds of people waiting to vote, including all the over 75 people going to the front of the line.

My team has three parent conferences tomorrow because of three ne'er do wells. I can't wait.

This past Sunday, I overheard the following conversation.
"Hey, BrownBear, let's go see High School Musical 3. I'll take you."
Sweeter words have never been spoken. They got to go and I didn't have to be involved at all.

I had my observation on Tuesday and my principal got to observe me previewing math vocabulary words - no dog and pony show, but exactly what the county wants going on.

PrepGirl had her fall conference yesterday and during it, she said that she was looking for a big party school for college. Uh, great. That's what everyone is looking for but not what everyone says outloud to advisors and parents. Today, I started looking for some small girls' schools.

And Halloween? I could live without it. Can't wait for it to be over.

Nuts and Bolts

After reading about Cupcake's woes, I realized that this Wednesday is the dreaded Sex Day in the fifth grade. A licensed nurse visits our school for an entire day and directs our youth in the ways of their hormones. Literally, I could kill myself. For the past four years, I have had to sit in the back of the classroom and listen as the story of how you came to be is painfully told. Granted, the boys and girls are divided up, but still.

BrownBear said it was a weird day. You don't see the boys all day long and then, at the end of the day, when you do, well, it is, in a word, awkward.

My parents have returned these permissions slips like it is a permission slip to the Second Coming.

I had already spoken to both PrepGirl and BrownBear before the big class, but the day PrepGirl came home from this, she got off the bus, wide eyed. I couldn't imagine what she could be wide-eyed from, so, silly me; I asked her what was up.

"Well," she said, "they talked about the boy stuff. And there were overhead pictures." Of course. Overhead pictures of stuff you don't even want to think about, right there in your face.

I made sure to include the boy stuff in my talk with BrownBear.