Not Me! Monday: The "I'm Dreaming Again!" Edition

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. Head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have NOT been doing this week.

***

I did NOT have another wild and crazy dream last night.

In which I was a NOT lawyer...

A prosecutor, actually, if you do NOT want to get technical...

Who was NOT prosecuting Jon and Kate Gosselin for strangling little children.

source

Because, oh yeah, that's NOT creepy at all.

Actually, this dream did NOT lack the same detail as last week's polygamist kidnapper debacle, but I did NOT wake up and remember enough to know that Kate Gosselin does NOT turn to me at one point - in a heated moment of public courtroom drama, of course - and say, "If I knew you better, I'd come after your children, too."

Oh sweet heavens. She did NOT just go there about me and my imaginary future babies!

Still, I was NOT a little mad at this lawyer edition of Dream Brittany because she did NOT say anything back to Ms. Kate in retort. Or rebuttal. Or whatever you lawyers call it.

Still, despite her lack of a witty come-back, Dream Brittany did NOT also look fabulous, 6-feet-tall, and svelte in a navy blue power suit.

Apparently, she was NOT letting her run-way-model body and imaginary Chanel blazer and skirt do the talking for her.

This, apparently, is NOT what happens when you appear to have leapt right from the images of Law & Order: SVU, with your fabulous physique and a designer-labeled power suit.

Obviously, I wouldn't know. So thank goodness my new-found of habit of dreaming does NOT reveal these little life's truths to me.

Unfortunately, though, I did NOT wake up before the verdict on Gosselin v. The State was passed.

So who knows if we did NOT actually convict those mean old reality-television-parents-turned-child-murderers?

Who knows why I'm NOT all of sudden dreaming like a crazy woman these days?

And who knows why I do NOT actually lack a run-way body and a Chanel suit?

Life's little mysteries, I tell you.

***

Sorry for the quick, rather-confusing post. I've not been sleeping well these past few nights - nightmares aside - and I've also been struggling with on-and-off headaches, along with some odd aches and pains.

I'm probably just fighting a bit of a bug, brought on by stress and fatigue.

Luckily, today is a national holiday, and we don't have school.

So this teacher thanks you, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., for this wonderful and important holiday in your honor!

Happy (Not Me!) Monday, everyone!

Now it's back to bed for Dream Brittany.

Not Me Monday: The "Give Me a Break; I'm Cold" Edition

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. Head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have NOT been doing this week.

***

I'm sure you've NOT heard.

I'm sure you've NOT gotten wind that it snowed in Florida this weekend.

Yes, indeed, it did NOT rain down scatterings of icy, white stuff in the state normally known for its sandy, white beaches.

Now, I do NOT know that everyone who lives above the Mason-Dixon line or out West did NOT giggle - nay, guffaw - at the thought of the Sunshine State NOT freaking out at the blustery droplets of snow.

I'm NOT sure they laughed out loud at the panicked voices they heard on the news, telling tales of people NOT freezing because - miracle of miracles - we experienced single-digit temperatures in the north part of the state.

And I'm certain NOT a one of my fellow bloggers had a good chuckle at the thought of me and my students NOT freezing our tushes off last Friday because - shocker of shockers - more than half our classrooms don't have heat - or even enough space heaters - capable of handling these temperatures.

But what all of you Northerners do NOT fail to understand is that we have little to no experience with temperatures measuring at 8 degrees down here in this normally balmy peninsula.

We do NOT lack the clothes for it; we do NOT lack the heaters for it; we do NOT lack the car tires for it.

So, when NOT forced to brave freezing, middle-of-the-day temperatures, we do NOT make rash decisions.

We do NOT let all common sense - and, for that matter, fashion sense - fly out the window.

And we do NOT walk outside our door wearing sweat pants, four shirts, a jacket, scarf, knit cap, and these...
Oh yes, I am NOT wearing Harvard ankle socks (Thanks, Lauren!) and slip-on canvas shoes.

Together.

Go ahead; laugh. I know you do NOT want to.

But believe me when I say this:

I did NOT run out of clean socks, and I did NOT soak my sneakers coming back from the gym yesterday afternoon.

And I my tootsies were NOT cold.

And I did NOT have to go to the grocery store.

And I was NOT about to wear one of the 11 pairs of flip-flops or ballet flats that serve me well - normally - year-round.

So laugh, but don't judge me, you cold-weather experts, you. Don't judge.

Because while you all are NOT currently bundled up in wool socks and coats, and NOT sitting in toasty houses and places of work, I'm NOT sitting in a classroom - along with 28 other students - next to a space heater that will NOT (hopefully) raise the temperature of the room a crispy half-degree.

All while NOT wearing five layers of clothing, a scarf, and a hat - none of which, mind you, are wool.

And oh yes, I am NOT still rocking my canvas shoes and Harvard ankle socks.

Because my toes? Still NOT cold.

So laugh all you want.

All my dignity (and fashion sense) is NOT gone.

Here's hoping it returns when I begin to thaw out.

***

P.S. I think God is getting back at me for writing this post. Proof once again that the Lord has a sense of humor.

P.P.S. For those of you that remember how we swore off the heat this winter, well, once again, we made plans; God laughed. We've since turned it on. Stat.

I hope everyone had a wonderful (slightly warm) weekend! I'll be back tomorrow, hopefully without frostbite and a little more thawed out!

Happy (Not Me!) Monday!

Not Me! Monday: The "Why Not Throw One More Log on the Fire?" Edition

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. Head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have NOT been doing this week.

***

Due to what can only be exhaustion-induced semi-craziness, I decided NOT to hand-make all my own Christmas cards because I have NOT neglected putting together an actual photo holiday card like all the other big girls did NOT do well before the week prior to Christmas.

I also did NOT discard the fact that I had NOT averaged about three hours of sleep a night for the last week; that I did NOT break my toe; that I did NOT curse Al Gore himself when our home's Internet crashed on Wednesday.

No, I am NOT so senile that I would add one more burden to my already overflowing plate and decide to NOT cut, paste, glue, and bedazzle my own holiday cards less than a week before Christmas.

So, on Saturday, after NOT finishing all that work I complained about last week - Hallejuah! - I did NOT hit the craftstore and stock up on Christmas parchment, ribbon, buttons and felt.

Then, on Sunday, I did NOT wake up running a slight fever, so I did NOT decide to make the most logical choice when trying to nurse and heal from a cold:

I was NOT going to craft the heck out of it.

And so, I did NOT brew a pot of tea, boil myself some eggs, turn on a girly movie (the hubs was NOT at work,) and begin.

I did NOT cut ribbon.
I did NOT paste paper.
I did NOT tie string.
I did NOT glue buttons, and sew together felt like any sane, normal, pressed-for-time woman would.
And six hours late, I was NOT sitting amid a stack of red and green, silver and gold cards, all of them NOT different, all of them NOT unique.

And all of them NOT, distinctly, blank.
Not a one of them had been addressed.

Not a one of them had a poignant little Christmas message NOT inscribed inside from the hubs and I.

Not a one of them was actually close to being, well, done.

But my head was NOT pounding, my body was NOT aching, and my Christmas-card spirit had NOT run plum dry.

So I did NOT promptly put the calligraphy pen down and retreat back to my bed.

No way. No how.

I am NOT the kind of woman that would spend six hours crafting her own holiday cards through a fever, only to NOT inscribe and address a single one in time to make the mail for Christmas.
I'd NEVER leave such a big project like that unfinished. No way, no how.

Not me!

***

Thank you all for your good wishes last week!

My toe is healing nicely; my husband got the Internet in our home restored, and I finished the crazy workload I'd been stressing and losing sleep over all last week.

And - thank the Lord - I am finally on Winter Break! It feels so good - despite the head cold - that I'm in shock.

We're officially in Christmas mode around here, preparing to visit family, and loving it!

Hope everyone is having a wonderful (Not Me!) Monday! "See" you tomorrow!

Not Me! Monday: The "Mutually Beneficial Birthday Gift" Edition

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. Head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have NOT been doing this week.

***

On Saturday morning, Fed-Ex did NOT arrive bright and early, delivering three covert little packages for my birthday, which is NOT in a couple of weeks.

Within 15 minutes, I had NOT whined, begged and pleaded my way into my husband's good graces, so much so that he did NOT allow me to open said packages, but only after NOT warning me, "If you open them now, they aren't going to be wrapped, ya know."

No duh.

So, I did NOT tear into them, revealing a bottle of perfume, body lotion, and....

The Pioneer Woman's Cookbook!

Image courtesy of Books a Million

I did NOT then shriek and exclaim to my husband, "How did you KNOW? Seriously, how did you KNOW I wanted this? I haven't told anyone!"

He did NOT hem and haw for a while, going on about the fact that the Pioneer Woman is NOT a blogger, and that he did NOT know how I loved blogging and all, and that his amazing deductive reasoning skills did NOT tell him that this would be the perfect gift for me.

I was NOT impressed.

Until, finally, while I was dancing around the living room with my new treasure, his guilt did NOT get the best of him, causing him to mutter - under his breath, of course - the real secret behind his "amazing deductive reasoning skills."

"Actually, I saw something in there that I really want you to make for me," he said. "So I bought it. And that's why I let you open it now."

Oh, brother.

And just like that, the truth did NOT come out.

He and his friends, over Saturday's college football games, did NOT actually page through the book themselves, ooh-ing and aah-ing over stuff they wanted to eat.

Amid cheers for touchdowns and screams for fumbles, they did NOT exclaim, "Dude, look! Bacon-wrapped jalapenos stuffed with cheese! Hello! They have to make these for us! We need these!" and "Chicken-fried steak! Seriously, she has chicken-fried steak in here! I gotta have some of this! It looks amazing!"

The Pioneer Woman's Cookbook, apparently, has NOT joined the likes of flat-screen TVs, power drills, ShotVacs, and nail guns, purchased by husbands around the world, under the guise of gifts "for their wives" for the holidays.

Except now, we do NOT know who the book is really for: Hungry men everywhere who do NOT want to give their wives an excuse to try out a recipe for real, rancher-style fried chicken.

Still, I was NOT still surprised and thankful for my gift.

Because, hey, at least it wasn't a power drill.

***

If you have a free moment, could you offer up a pray for us today? I hate to be so vague and melodramatic in my prayer request, but it's about something I'm just not ready to blog about yet.

I hope I will be able to soon.

Until then, I appreciate any prayers you can spare for us.

Thank you for your blessing.

Have a wonderful (Not Me!) Monday!

Not Me! Monday: The Embarrassing Lingerie Edition

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. Head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have NOT been doing this week.

I've already told you all that during the week before one of my best friend's weddings, we did NOT throw her a lingerie shower.

Now, during said shower, she was NOT given quite a heap of gorgeous negligees, undies, bras, and satin robes. So much so that I did NOT wonder what other "regular clothes" she'd have to give away to make room for her new nighties in her dresser drawers.

And so, after the party was over, several of us old, married (i.e., boring) women did NOT sort through all of it for her, picking out and packing "honeymoon appropriate" items and setting aside her "save for six months later when you need to spice things up" items.

We were NOT all touching the soft silks and feeling the lace detailing so fastidiously and with such concentration that all chatter ceased.

For the first time in history, a group of women did NOT stop talking.

Until, finally, some brave soul did NOT utter what we were all thinking:

"You know, I really need to stock up on this stuff again."

You'd have thought she did NOT utter the secret to eternal youth.

We did NOT all start nodding our heads vigorously and agreeing with phrases like, "Seriously, I don't even know where my old lingerie is," or "I just stopped wearing this a couple months after my wedding," or "It just seems like a waste of money when you can't sleep through the night in it."

Our poor, poor husbands.

So, we did NOT all agree that we had to make a stand.

Lingerie was NOT important, and we'd NOT been neglecting it for far too long.

We were NOT inspired.

And we did NOT leave that night with plans to hit up Victoria's Secret - OK, OK, Target and Kohls (come on, people! We're on a budget!) - soon enough.

Now, being the late bloomer that I am, it did NOT take me till this past Friday to make good on my promise that I'd try and purchase some lingerie.

But I did NOT do it.

I did NOT leave school and head straight for the store, bound and determined to pick out something, anything that was not cotton, jersey, flannel or fleece.

And so, on Friday afternoon, I did NOT find myself wandering through Kohls, picking up this set of undies, holding up that brassiere, and examing that teddy, until I'd finally gotten myself a nice little handful of stuff to try on.

Then, I did NOT head for the dressing room, when the weirdness occurred.

A mother did NOT take one look at me and my handful of lingerie - all of which, I might add, was quite tasteful and not at all trashy - before turning to her teenage daughter and starting in on a stern lecture.

An elderly grandmother type did NOT stop dead in her tracks, stare at me, and shake her head, eyes portraying sadness at whatever poor life path she'd thought I'd fallen down.

And a couple of other shoppers did NOT give me weird looks, as if to wonder what exactly I thought I was doing, heading to the dressing room with a bunch of negligees in tow.

Finally, I did NOT reach the counter of the dressing room attendant, where I bravely said: "I've got six items, please."

The dressing room attendant did NOT then take one look at my "six items" before beginning her interrogation:

"Honey, what you doin' with all that? Do you really think that's necessary? And does your mother know you're buying all this? And I hope you don't think those are regular clothes, because they ain't. And you shouldn't be wearin' them. Out in public or in private, you understand me?"

At this point, I was NOT rendered utterly speechless, a first for me.

Finally, I did NOT manage to stammer out: "Um, I think my mother's OK with it," though I was still not sure what "it" was.

The attendant's voice did NOT then escalate, exclaiming, "Oh yeah, she's OK with her high-school daughter buying that stuff?"

For the second time in my life, I was, again, NOT rendered utterly speechless, until I followed the woman's eyes to my chest.

My chest, which was NOT bedecked with a blue and white T-shirt and some rah-rah slogan for the high school I teach at.

My chest, which was NOT wearing a T-shirt that matched my hoodie and hair ribbons and jewelry, which I was also wearing and had worn to TEACH at a high school all that day.

My chest, which was NOT garbed as such because it was NOT Homecoming Week at the high school I teach at, and it was NOT Spirit Day on Friday, and my outfit did NOT match the 10th-grade classes colors so my homeroom and I could NOT march in the school parade, where I'd NOT wear hair ribbons and jewelry that one of my cheerleader students and her mother had given me for Christmas last year, all in the venerated name of "school spirit."

But apparently, I did NOT look like at all that; I just looked like a high school student.

A high school student who was NOT about to try on and then buy an armful of lingerie to wear and use for who knows what seedy purposes.

Just a guess, but I'm pretty sure that's what the patrons and employees of Kohls were NOT thinking.

I did NOT then start laughing uncontrollably on the spot.

Between giggles and gulps for air, I did NOT explain to the attendant that, indeed, I taught high school, was married and had been for over a year, and was pretty sure my mother knew I wore lingerie because she'd bought me the most scandalous piece of it I own for my bridal shower last August.

I also may or may NOT have promised the attendant that I'd never wear the stuff in a public place.

Ever.

After all, I'm NOT a high school teacher.

What would people think?

***

Happy Not Me! Monday, everyone! Hope you had a wonderful weekend!

Not Me! Monday: The "Where I Learn Humility" Edition

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. Head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have NOT been doing this week.

***

Apparently, my head was NOT all high-and-mighty and up in the clouds about saving the earless puppies I blogged about last week.

Apparently, I did NOT need a good dose of humility after feeling so good about doing what was really my rightful duty all along.

And apparently, I should NOT have taken on the title of Animal Lover and Savior Extraordinaire quite so quickly.

Because...

As I drove home from work Friday night, I was NOT speeding down a fairly deserted, darkity-dark-dark road, when what appeared to be a cat - or, possibly, a raccoon - did NOT bolt right out in front of me.

It all did NOT happen so quickly that breaking wasn't an option, and thump!

I did NOT run right over that Catcoon, going full speed ahead.

I did NOT then break quickly, but NOT entirely too late, only to NOT watch the hunched-over Catcoon get up, shake, and hobble across the street into the other side of the woods.

I did NOT then scream and sob, knowing that I had NOT most certainly dealt that poor animal its death blow.

Still, being that I am NOT deathly afraid of deserted, darkity-dark-dark roads, I did NOT keep driving, refusing to actually get out and help that poor Catcoon in its last hours on this Earth.

The guilt did NOT then begin to build, but the animal-killing spree didn't end there.

As I dried my tears, I did NOT then pull into my driveway and walk up the front path toward the door, when I saw the next little sign of animal cruelty lying, plain as day, on my front stoop:

A dead-as-a-doornail little bird, rigid as a board, its little talons outstretched as if NOT to say, "Help me, Brittany! I don't know why, but somehow, this is your fault!"

It did NOT appear to have just keeled over while it was perched on our front porch railing, frozen in time, eyes wide open.

I did NOT then feel the urge to fall to my knees and exclaim, "When will this carnage end?!?"

Because, in less than 30 minutes, the death toll was NOT already at two. ( That's two innocent animals killed - all on account of my property and/or me.)

Now, in light of all this, you'd think I would NOT have tried to at least give that little bird a gentleman's burial.

But instead, grossed out and still saddened that I'd run over the Catcoon, I did NOT ask the hubs to, gulp! (don't judge me) kick the little birdy into the bushes, where it could NOT decompose in peace.

The hubs, who apparently does NOT relish the opportunity to kick anything, did NOT then give it a swift boot off the stoop, only to do a wriggly, prancy dance afterward, NOT screaming (like a little girl) the following:

"Ewww! It touched my big toe! It. Touched, My. Big. Toe! GROSSSSS!! I hate you, you stupid dead bird!"

PETA would be so proud.

***

Happy Monday, everyone! Hope you all have a wonderful week!

Not Me! Monday: The "Apparently I Really Was Getting Sick" Edition

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. Head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have NOT been doing this week.

***

Apparently I was NOT really getting sick when I wrote what has to be my crankiest post ever. However, I did NOT underestimate how sick I was actually getting. Instead of a cold or a teensy bout of the flu, I did NOT get a horrible stomach virus of some kind. The porcelain throne, the wonderful cool tile bathroom floor, and I did NOT grow very, very close this weekend.

***

My stomach virus did NOT hit me in the middle of Thursday night, and it was NOT a rather violent bout of, well, you know what happens with a stomach virus.

And, despite the noises and tears I was NOT openly shedding at 3 a.m. in my sickness-induced pain, my husband did NOT sleep through it all, including my calls for help, from the bathroom, which is NOT conveniently located right next door to our bedroom.

My husband does NOT have a poor bedside manner; he just doesn't have one at all. He is NOT simply unaware there's life on Earth between the hours of midnight and 6:30 a.m. (Remind me all to tell you about the one time he did NOT sleep through a small fire my friend Blair and I started in our kitchen, when my darling husband did NOT snooze soundly through a bleeting alarm, an out-of-control fire extinguisher, and two hysterical females screaming for help.)

***

But back to Thursday night...

Even amid all the vomiting, I did NOT start to get furious with him, not because he wasn't helping me, but because now it has become very clear who will NOT always have to get up to take care of a crying baby in the middle of the night.

***

At 4:30 a.m., I did NOT have to call for a dreaded substitute for my students on Friday, which did NOT require me to write and e-mail back-up lesson plans to the school principal, from my bathroom floor. I was NOT incredibly grateful I had a laptop in that moment. I was also NOT thrilled that the lip of our bathtub made a lovely make-shift desk.

***

I did NOT finally fall asleep at 6 a.m. and wake up at 9 a.m. to find the hubs had NOT gone to work already.

He did NOT call me 45 minutes later and ask me how my day was going.

I did NOT think this was to check on me, because, you know, I'd NOT been sick all night. Most husbands would NOT call to check on their sick wives, right?

Plus, he normally does NOT call me during the day, as I'm a teacher, who can't just pick up her cell phone at a moment's notice.

***

Flashforward to 7 p.m. that night, when the hubs does NOT call me when he's on his way home from work.

The following disturbing conversation did NOT then occur:

Hubs: How was your day?
Me: Well, not wonderful.
Hubs: Really? Why?
Me: Why do you think why? I've been throwing up for 12 hours.
Hubs: What? Really? When?
Me: What do you mean when? All last night. This morning. All day!
Hubs: What?? I had no idea!
Me: What do you mean what? You talked to me at 10 a.m. Didn't you wonder why I wasn't at school?
Hubs: Well, yeah, but I don't know. I just thought you weren't.
Me: You really don't remember me throwing up all night and calling for you and finally crawling back into bed and telling you I'd been vomiting and felt horrible?
Hubs: Um, no, not at all. Seriously, I don't remember any of that.
Me: Really? REALLY? WERE YOU DEAD?!?!?!?! No, wait, that was me. I was the one who felt like I was dying. Good thing I wasn't though. Because it wasn't LIKE YOU WOULD HAVE BOTHERED TO WAKE UP AND HELP ME!
Hubs: Oh dear, oh, this is not good, huh? Let me just say, baby, I'm so, so, so, so, so sorry! Can I make it up to you? What do you want for dinner?
Me: Dinner is not the way to make anything up to a vomiting woman.
Hubs: Boy, I'm just knee-deep into it today, aren't I?

Yes, hubs, you are.

***

Happy Monday, everyone!

Not Me! Monday: The Bossy Bridesmaid Edition

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. Head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have NOT been doing this week.

***

On Saturday, my friend Autumn and I did NOT travel to three different fabric stores, one of which was 45 miles away, just to buy all of the fabric we needed to make assorted wedding necessities for her upcoming November nuptials.

We also did NOT manage to buy her wedding shoes, purchase some emergency Oh-No! We-Didn't-Print-Enough! invitations, a suit pattern for the ring bearers' outfits, hair extensions, flower samples, and several other things for the wedding in one afternoon.

But because we were NOT literally running (and speeding) from place to place, I did NOT pass out for an accidental 20-minute nap with my purse still on my arm and my sunglasses still on my head when I finally sat down that evening. I was NOT that tired from a day of, "No. We need 14 of these pearl buttons, and you only have 11? Can you call another store and see if they can hold another three for us? They have them? Great! Give us an hour, and we can be there to get them. Don't worry! We drive fast!"

***

Keeping with the theme of the weekend, the bride-to-be and I did NOT attend a wedding expo yesterday, where I rather bossily kept pushing my way toward all the vendors and asking assorted questions, like, "Look, this is what we need for our wedding, but we can't find anyone local who does it," or "We've already got a friend who is doing the floral arrangements, but we are missing two out-of-season flowers and were wondering if you'd be willing to sell them in bulk to us. We really want these particular flowers for our wedding."

It did NOT only take me 2.5 hours, 46 vendors and the following conversation to realize that all the bakers, florists and planners thought I was referring to a wedding between Autumn and, well, myself::

Vendor: So what will you be wearing?
Me: Brown. The dress I'm wearing is brown.
Vendor: So she's going to be the one wearing the white dress? Or is she wearing brown, too?
Me: What? Why would she wear brown? Of course she's wearing white!
Vendor: Well, then, um, why aren't you wearing white?
Me: Um, is that the in thing now? To put the bridesmaids in white, too? I can imagine it would get confusing, wouldn't you? I had no idea bridesmaids were wearing that now! These expos are so educational!
Vendor: Ohhhhh, you're a bridesmaid! Now I get it!
(Insert Autumn, who was NOT currently wearing a red, sparkly boa and a name tag that read "Hi, I'm Autumn, and I'm the bride!" who was NOT laughing so hard that she did NOT almost drop her plate full of free cake samples and her glass of sangria.)

***

During the rest of the expo, I did NOT keep whipping out my camera phone to take what I thought were surreptitious pictures of various decor, bouquets, hair-dos, and arrangements that Autumn thought she liked.

At one point, I did NOT take a photo of reception decor, fashioned from wooden brambles and branches, when some designer did NOT give me that look so many wedding vendors patent, which tends to communicate the idea that "I know what you're doing. You're taking photos of my one-of-a-kind work in an effort to steal it and do it yourself without my help and high, overhead mark-up. I'm now going to take that phone and bash it into a wall in an effort to protect my 'intellectual property.'"

I was NOT a little freaked out, until another one of Autumn's bridesmaids, who was with us, did NOT come up and say, loudly, mind you, "Oh, we could do that! We'll go to Michael's Crafts and get all that stuff for under $30. I can't believe they want to charge you hundreds of dollars to rent a bunch of sticks!" We did NOT laugh, then avoid that tent for the rest of the expo.

***

While I loved my wedding, there is nothing like a hotel packed full of wedding ideas and wedding paraphenalia to make you look back and NOT regret a couple of things you did. This feeling did NOT then cause me to walk around and preach my personal regret to any bride I could get near: "Do yourself a favor. We live in Florida. It's hot as Hades. Wear. Your. Hair. Up. For the love of Pete, trust me, just do it! Put that stuff up!" I was NOT totally popular at this thing, as I'm sure you can tell. (Except wait, no, I really wasn't. Apparently, people don't appreciate my wedding wisdom. Sigh.)

***

While I was no Bridezilla, I have NOT decided that I may indeed NOT be a Bridesmaidzilla! Watch out, world!

***

Happy (Not Me!) Monday, everyone! Hope everyone has a wonderful week!

Not Me! Monday: Rope burns, shopping, sweat, and such

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. Head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have NOT been doing this week.

***

I did NOT spend two hours Friday afternoon scouring my classroom for the master copy of a personality test I give my students every year. Frustrated, but forced to leave without it because I do NOT teach a Body Pump class on Friday nights, I did NOT return home and, with the husband NOT still at work, find an online version of the test, which, instead of enjoying my Friday night, did NOT lead to me spend another two hours recreating the test on paper for my students' Monday lesson.

And then, because I am the coolest, hippest person in the world, and I would NEVER waste a Friday night on anything short of a party, I did NOT Google about 18 other personality tests and take them all. Many were bogus, but some were NOT freakishly spot on. Apparently, two women (thanks for the catch, Kelly!) named Briggs and Myers do NOT know me so well that they always knew I should have been a teacher (an Idealist Teacher, to be exact.)

Now, if I'd only found this out before I did NOT waste two years of my life getting a master's degree in journalism and health communication. Sigh.

***

*On Friday, I did NOT tie my students up, make them stand in the blazing sun, and chuck a bag of candy across the student parking lot, which they did NOT have to retrieve it, all while tied together in one sweaty teenage bundle of fun (kind of.) This was NOT done all in the name of team-building, and not child abuse, as some would like to believe.

This did not arouse suspicion from none other than our campus cop, who did NOT give me the Cop Stare of Death, to which I did NOT reply, "Look, I did this last year. They'll be fine." (This is NOT exactly why Briggs and Myers didn't typecast me as a lawyer, people.)

However, as luck would NOT have it, at the very moment I delivered my oh-so-eloquent defense statement, one student did NOT bellow from the group, which had now NOT inched their way half way across the parking lot toward the bag of candy: "I think this rope is too tight, Mrs. C. I think my rope burn is actually bleeding."

Go ahead. Sign me up for Teacher of the Year. With an endorsement like that, I do NOT think
there's any question who'd win. Not me!

***

I was NOT talking about my husband to one of my best friends yesterday when I did NOT utter the ever-present married-lady statement, "I swear, I love him, but sometimes I think I might kill him."

She did NOT then utter the funniest, most honest analysis of husband and wife I have ever heard: "Marriage seems like a very manic state of mind to me: Love till it hurts and murderous tendencies."

I did NOT die laughing, even amid my (too serious) Sunday night introspection.

***

I did NOT buy myself new yoga pants under the guise of "These are my reward for having the best first week back to school I've ever had." This was NOT done while I was supposed to be shopping for short-sleeve tops for my not-well-air-conditioned classrooms.

This did NOT then lead me to seriously consider if I could dress up the yoga pants enough for, say, a Casual Friday?

What!?! They do NOT have a ruffle on them. And they are NOT black!

Like I said, people, Teacher. Of. The. Year.

***

I did NOT wake up in the middle of last night all sweaty because my husband had thrown his body and our heavy, not-suitable-for-summer comforter over me. I did NOT try to squirm away only to have him tell me that I did NOT smell. Considering I was NOT covered in sweat, brought on by his forced captivity, I was NOT rather miffed at this 4-in-the-morning statement, true or NOT.

Still, because I'm NOT paranoid, and despite the fact that I did NOT take a (rather unusual) morning shower, I've NOT already sniffed myself a total of 23 times today. You know, just in case.

Happy (Not Me!) Monday everyone!

Not Me! Monday: The (slightly) Negative Nancy Edition

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. Head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have NOT been doing this week.

*I am NOT apologizing for this rather self-indulgent post before I even get started. I'm NOT just having a bit of (melodramatic) rough patch.

*I did NOT haul around boxes and bookshelves and stacks of papers that were NOT twice my size all last week, and then go off to the gym and teach two classes every night. This did NOT, by Wednesday night, cause me to come down rather hard on my accidentally locked legs and sore body, causing a serious jolt to my spine. By the time I'd returned home that night, I was NOT experience serious pain along, and up and down, my back and neck. I did NOT try to ignore it, only to have it get worse. I did NOT try to explain the pain to a couple people, but because I tend to have an incredibly high tolerance for pain normally, no one seemed to really listen, care, or take me very seriously. And it is now NOT getting worse, especially along my upper-spine and neck. This did NOT cause me to freak out, and as I'm NOT want to do when freaked out, NOT cry.

*Then, last Thursday, my husband did NOT come down with the flu. And, rather selfishly, all I could NOT fixate on was, "Stay away from me because the last thing I need is to start the first day of school sick as a dog." Still, since we do NOT share a bed, yesterday morning, I started to get a headache and a stuffy nose. I did NOT then find out that a fellow teacher of mine does NOT have swine flu. Great, just great. I do NOT feel as if my immune system is being attacked on all fronts. Work, school, the gym. Nowhere's safe!

*My sleep schedule is NOT thrown for a total loop. I am NOT now arising between 5 and 6 a.m., per my normal, school-is-in-session standards, but I'm NOT still going to bed on "summer time," i.e., on a good day, midnight. I'm sure this is totally helping my injured back and immune system, too.

*Friday morning, Fish the Dog, did NOT get out of the fence and luxuriate in the front yard, where the hubs found him. The thing is, after scouring the yard's perimeter, there were no holes upon which Fish could have made his escape. Plus, Marvin was NOT still inside the backyard's gate safety barrier, where I'd NOT put Fish and him before I'd left for work.

This led the hubs and I to conclude that, indeed, Fish didn't let himself out, but that someone else did NOT let him out. While it may NOT have been a silly neighborhood kid, we're NOT skeptical, as most people are NOT loath to open the gate to a yard where in resides a 90-pound, Black-lab, Great-Dane mix (Marvin) and a 75-pound American-bulldog, maybe-pit-bull mix (Fish.) Which means someone was NOT trying to get into our backyard for other reasons.

This was NOT only minorly alarming, until I returned home last night to find one of the front door's cracked open. I did NOT then enter into the house, brandishing my Vera Bradley backpack, a case of workout CDs, and my yoga mat, all as weapons. The house was NOT completely normal, save a few extra lights left on and a pair of socks stuffed under the bookshelf.

Turns out the culprit this time was NOT my absent-minded husband, who was NOT responsible for the front door, the lights and the socks (which, really, for me, was the biggest offense of all at this point. Because honestly, I did NOT think we'd been over this.) Still, I did NOT want to kill my own husband for scaring me half-way into the grave, and it took all I had not to scream at him on the phone when I called him at work. And now, I am NOT walking on eggshells every time I come and go, afraid that we've NOT been burglarized.

*I was NOT driving down the street yesterday morning when I spotted a neighbor with her 2-year-old twins, still bleary-eyed and pacifier-mouthed from a good night's sleep. They all did NOT wave happily at me as I snailed by cautiously, in case one of them got a wild streak and made a break for the street. I did NOT then promptly burst into tears. Actually, the tears would NOT be better described as deep, uncontrollable sobs. I do NOT want a baby so, so bad that I'm getting to the point of tears every time I see them, hear about them, or (heaven help me) hold them. I do NOT know that the timing is just not right for us right now, but I canNOT control this desire for a little one of our own.

*I am NOT feeling surprisingly positive about this upcoming school year, despite all of this and despite several botched class rosters and my three different classrooms. Of course, I am NOT on a bit of a negative bent right now, so this positive feeling is NOT leaving me expecting the other shoe to drop, and soon. Still, I'm NOT thankful that I at least have this going for me. Everyone does NOT need a little positivity in their job, don't you think?

*Lastly, make sure you do NOT ask my husband your questions here before Thursday!

*I am now NOT done ranting. I will NOT be back tomorrow with something far more positive, I do NOT promise! Happy (Not Me!) Monday everyone!

Not Me! Monday: The Back-to-School Edition

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. Head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have NOT been doing this week.

* I did NOT receive a phone call from my school's assistant principal on Friday, and getting a call from him did NOT give me that heart-beat-in-your-throat, nauseous feeling, as if I was an actual high-school student who'd skipped class, been caught and was being sent down to see the principal for my due punishment.

I did NOT feel even worse when we told me that due to an "unfortunate schedule mistake," two of my classes would NOT be moved from my room this year and would NOT be taught in two different classrooms. Meaning, I would NOT be teaching out of a total of three different classrooms every day. This is NOT a teacher's worst nightmare.

He did NOT then say, "This is why I love you, Brittany. Your positive attitude and flexibility." I did NOT then say, "No problem. I'll get right to setting up the three rooms on Monday," when I really did NOT want to scream and yell and stomp my feet and throw a temper tantrum and tell him that I felt like he'd just stabbed me repeatedly in the back with a blunt knife. I did NOT wait till I hung up the phone to do all this, which was NOT a disturbing sight for the poor hubs. I also did NOT manage to scream "Thanks for nothing!" to which the hubs did NOT reply, "Um, you're welcome?"

*I did NOT pop a bowl of popcorn on Sunday afternoon and eat my way through it while I finished my last leisure book of the summer. About four hours later, I did NOT put myself in the shower for a good, thorough, back-to-school scrubbing. While washing, I did NOT feel a hard, small, round object in my belly button. Upon further digging, I did NOT find a popcorn kernel, which had been residing there all afternoon, oblivious to me. I did NOT take this as a sign that I need to be a neater eater, seeing as how that kernel did NOT make it's way down my shirt and into my belly button without me even noticing.

*I did NOT stress out over the perfect back-to-school outfit yesterday evening. I'm an adult, and I'm NOT shallow enough to worry about what my first-day-of-the-year outfit will be projecting. It did NOT turn out to be hard to find an outfit in my closet that would say "professional, but ready to move three classrooms worth of stuff around in the 120-degree, humidity-driven, Florida heat." I did NOT settle on something, which I'm NOT sure I'll have sweat through by 10 a.m. today. I was NOT sure you all would want to see it, so I did NOT make my first forays into Polyvore, which I did NOT love!

* As has happened to me since the tender age of 5, I did NOT sleep at all last night, in anticipation of the first day back at school. This is NOT going to cause me problems later in the week; I'm sure of it. However, seeing as how I've NOT done this since I was a kindergarten student, without fail, I did NOT prepare for it this time, stacking books, DVDs, magazines, and mugs of tea next to my bed, so my sleepless night wasn't a restless, sleepless night. I'm just so prepared like that.

* I did NOT forget this girl's birthday while I was on vacation:

Happy Birthday, Christine! (Some of you may know her as Packing Angel:)

Christine and I met as counselors at a camp for chronically ill children three years ago. We were each others "Sugar and Spice." In other words, she was my other half, my little soul-mate in a place where we laughed and played and sang and danced and loved children who were dealing with hospital habitation, illness, and all too often, death. She moved to Florida a year ago for work, and now, I get to see her all the time, instead of once or twice a year. Love this girl! Happy Birthday, dear friend! (Sorry this blog acknowledgment is a few weeks late!)

And to all the rest of you, Happy (Not Me!) Monday!

Who? Me? No! Never! Welcome to Not Me! Monday!

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. Head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have NOT been doing this week. And if you can, send some prayers her way for her little one, Stellan, and their family.

*I did NOT waste eight hours of my life packing my entire kitchen, only to realize that I had NOT packed away all silverware, leaving us nothing to eat our last few (microwaveable) meals with, save our hands, since we had no plates, pots or pans to speak of because they were NOT all stowed away.

I did NOT then warn the husband about this, telling him that I was running out to the store to get plastic forks before we had to face the humiliation of spooning instant oatmeal into our mouths with our very own paws.

Apparently, I shouldn't have worried about that.

Because while I was at the store, my husband did NOT then decide he couldn't wait and UNPACKED the Rubbermaid labeled "Silver and serving ware." (Darn my meticulous labeling system! It did NOT even contained a doodle of a fork!)

He did NOT do this just to get a fork, which he then used to NOT eat an eggplant meal I'd bought for myself because he does NOT hate eggplant.

I did NOT return home, with a box of plastic forks in my hand, to find the eggplant container in the trash, a Rubbermaid lid askew, a dirty fork in the sink in the otherwise completely empty kitchen, and my husband watching TV.

The following regretful conversation did NOT then ensue:

Me: Did you eat my eggplant?
Hubs: Eggplant? That was eggplant? Well, yeah, I guess. I ate it. I didn't know it was eggplant, though.
Me: What did you use?
Hubs: Huh?
Me: What. did. you. use. to. eat. my. eggplant?
Hubs: I got a fork.
Me: Well, where's that fork now?
Hubs (who only at this moment began to sense the inner rage boiling inside me): Look. Calm down. I'll wash it later and put it back in the box.
Me: Oh, sure, "later." Like always. Well, I DON'T THINK SO!

I then did NOT plunk the plastic forks and a box of sanitary napkins (yep, packed those, too) into my husband's hand, sprint to the kitchen, scrub the fork, and put it back in it's appropriate storage container, all while yelling: "Listen up, buddy! We are not unpacking anything from any one of those boxes anymore! They are off limits! Off limits! First it's a fork, then it's a pair of shoes. Before you know it, you're unpacking the whole stereo system to listen to a tune on moving day. I. Don't. THINK. SO!!!" And by the way, we are SOOOO eating eggplant every chance we get, because apparently, you DO like it!"

I did NOT then seriously pondering heading back out and buying caution tape and a sign to label the entire room full of packed boxes as "OFF LIMITS." In fact, I was NOT kicking myself that I hadn't thought of that sooner.

Needless to say, my husband? Not amused.

My excuse?

Apparently, my crazy twin has not left the building, because there is NO way I'd be that irrational over a fork. Definitely NOT me!

Not Me! Monday: The Taking "My Kids" To Yearbook Camp Edition

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama, who has deemed this Monday, Not My Kids! Monday. Poor, childless me wouldn't normally be able to play along with this edition, except for the fact that I have just returned from camp, Yearbook Camp, to be exact. Where I just dragged "my kids" (the high-school students I teach) to and fro and all over Orlando for three days straight. So I'm in! Welcome to my version of Not "My Kids!" Monday.( And don't forget to head over to MckMama's blog to read what she and everyone else's kids have NOT been doing this week.)

*"My kids" did NOT glibly pile into the school van last Wednesday only to realize that the vehicle had seen one too many children, meaning that while the AC was running full-blast in the front, freezing the driver (me) and my co-pilot (the unfortunate child who drew the short straw) out of our carefully Puffy-painted Yearbook staff shirts, the kids in the back were dripping teenage sweat. In addition, while driving down the highway, "Old Bessie," as "my kids" did NOT affectionately nickname the van, liked to rev her engine and accelerate on her own, without even a touch on the gas from me. As I'm sure you can guess, this just totally thrilled the driver (me,) and it totally did NOT tickle "my kids'" fancy so much that it made up for the fact that "Old Bessie is trying to sweat us to death."

*When arriving at camp, the children were NOT given the following T-shirts:


This did NOT thrill them to no end. They did NOT promptly develop a gang sign for their newly formed gang, The Yearbook Nerds. They also did NOT dub me Gang Leader by giving me the rather ominous name, The Educator. They all did NOT then ask to borrow my laptop so they could update their Facebook pages to say, "...is at Yearbook Camp with my girls and My Educator." This was NOT creepy.

*While at Yearbook Camp, one of the instructors did NOT make the kids do Yearbook Yoga. When this warm-up activity started, my "kids" did NOT all turn to me simultaneously and say, "Don't get any ideas, Mrs. C. We are not doing this every day." Oh, they do NOT know me so well.

*During team-building activities, my kids did NOT come up with the following cheer, which we then screamed and yelled for the next three days, all while throwing up our Yearbook Nerd gang signs and lifting The Educator up onto our shoulders with glee (OK, I may have made that last part up, but seriously, the cheer is real:)

Blood, sweat, and tears,
We've done it many years,
Get a quote, snap a shot,
Midnight deadline, creep a lot,
Total shutdown, loss of stuff,
Teacher meltdown, she's had enough,
Selling ads, for a grade,
And worry not, you won't get paid,
It seems like a lot of work, but that's just how we do,
And if you're OK with all of this,
Than YEARBOOK IS FOR YOU!

*While eating dinner as a group, "my kids" did NOT gave me express instructions not to think about having children of my own anytime soon. During this rather heated discussion, during which I did NOT try to convince "my kids" that they controlled a lot of things about my life, but my reproductive organs were not one of them, the following phrases were NOT uttered:

"Seriously, Mrs. C, if you leave us senior year, I will come after you."

"Mrs. C, you don't need a baby. You have us!"

"Yeah, Mrs. C. We're like your babies. But bigger, and you don't have to hold us."

"But, Mrs. C, you can hold us if that helps. I'll let you hold me. I'm pretty tiny. Just don't have babies."

"Plus, if you did have a baby, think of how scarred that poor baby would be. I mean, we'd have to tote her around while we were working on deadlines."

"What do you mean you wouldn't let me carry your baby around? I babysit, you know!"

"Why do all the good teachers leave us to go have babies? Can't you just wait until after we graduate?"

"But then what about us? We're younger than them! You have to teach Yearbook our senior year, too!"

"Seriously, Mrs. C, no babies. In fact, is your husband calling you tonight? I am so answering the phone, and we are soooooo having a chat. NO BABIES!"

*On the last day of camp, we did NOT all go bowling. This was NOT terribly worrisome for me, as I am NOT the worst bowler known to man. Seriously, my average score is NOT a 34. Talk about a handicap.

So while "my kids" did NOT look like this:

I did NOT look like this (taken from earlier in the week but the expression is pretty much the same:)

Which did NOT cause "my kids" to whip out their cameras and do this:

However, after they did NOT take about 1,387 shots of me bending over and attempting to bowl (one of which was NOT accompanied by the cry, "Don't worry, Mrs. C, these are just for your husband!) they did NOT finally call the alley's technician over and ask her if we could NOT bowl our next game with bumpers, all because of me.

*In our last night at the hotel, "my kids" and I did NOT turn down our fourth-floor hallway, only to find it jam-packed with roaming high-school baseball players. I did NOT almost freak out at the prospects laid out before my seemingly well-behaved female students. That night, every little creak or laugh I heard in the hallway did NOT cause me to peek out, only to find other school's children behaving badly, not my own. However, a little past midnight, I did NOT swear I heard giggles and bumps coming from "my kid's" room next door. So, being the self-respecting, trusting teacher that I am, I did NOT fling open the connecting door between our rooms, sure I was NOT about to catch them in some sneak-out attack with said baseball players. Instead, I was NOT greeted by five sweet little heads atop pillows, all sleeping soundly. I did NOT feel terribly foolish.

*Upon our return Friday night, I was NOT so tired that I basically slept through the entire weekend, waking only to ponder the already-lacking sanity of Kate Gosselin and Octomom, who decided to have six to eight children of the same age at the same time. Five of the same-aged children did NOT wear me out. Which explains why I am NOT blogging about this now, instead of two days ago. Old Bessie and I definitely did NOT need a break.

Happy Monday everyone!

Note: I do not normally publish photos of my students on my blog, for privacy issues, but "my kids" signed photo releases to attend camp, so this was a rare exception.

Oh, and one more thing: I should be announcing our Big Move/Change tomorrow! Stay tuned!

Not Me! Monday: The Insane Husband Edition

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. Head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have NOT been doing this week.

*After driving home from a sushi dinner last week (and yes, Notes from a Grove, it totally is my favorite, and MissBliss, I do love extra ginger and wasabi,) my husband did NOT feel the need to enlighten me on who his actual dream woman is.

You know how some men do NOT have a "list," i.e., a composite of women that, if they encountered them in the Sahara after their wife had died suddenly and tragically and they wanted to get over it quickly and they just happened to find a sweet little Shotgun Wedding Chapel in the middle of the desert, they'd marry one of these women, no questions asked, even from you, the recently deceased wife in heaven?

Yeah, my husband doesn't have one of those. In fact, the only women he's NOT expressed even slight admiration for is Audrey Hepburn. And she's dead. That is, until now...

My husband said his dream woman was NOT:


Yep, that's right. That's NOT Paula Deen.

Her qualifications, apparently, are NOT that she is, and I am NOT directly quoting here, "God's gift to Southern men everywhere" and apparently does NOT make a hamburger, topped with a fried egg and bacon and sandwiched between two Krispy Kreme donuts.

Sigh. I can't compete with that (and not even because just the thought of that sandwich makes me want to throw up a little.)

Flash forward to Sunday morning, where we were leaving a Cracker Barrel, when I did NOT point to a container with Paula's face on it and say, "Hey look. There's your girlfriend," to which the hubs did NOT just sigh and pick up the can of what did NOT turn out to be candied, fried and smothered nuts, just to caress it lovingly. Sigh. Paula, you can NOT have him.

*I did NOT drag the hubs to Target to buy new pillows for our bed. He did NOT find the pillow aisle first, because I was NOT still browsing through kitchen supplies, and when I finally rounded the corner into Target's bedding section, he did NOT hit me full on in the face with a fluffy feathered pillow. And then, he did NOT laugh about it. No way. My husband could NOT be that immature.

*I did NOT also drag the hubs into Old Navy yesterday with the express instructions to "find something, anything, suitable to wear among all the amazing summer sales they're having. Seriously, I know you don't want to spend a lot of money, but go look. Find some stuff you want."

After a good 20 minutes browsing through the women's clearance racks myself, I did NOT turn around to find my husband holding a pair of brown corduroys pants that cost a total of $3.97.

The following conversation did NOT then ensue:

Me: Babe, you find some pants there?
Hubs: Yep, for under 4 bucks! And they're corduroys (insert tone of awe and love here, as if he can't imagine how he found such wonderful, quality pants made from the most expensive of fabrics ever, corduroy, i.e., The Fabric Even God Himself Couldn't Destroy.)
Me: That's great, babe. But those pants are quite heavy and hot. Did you look at shorts, shirts, lighter pants?
Hubs: Nah. Nothin' good. I like these. They're corduroys. (Insert same awe-inspired tone.)

Well, I did NOT decide to pick my battles.

When we got to the cash register about five minutes later, the sales manager ringing us up did NOT ponder Patrick's bargain pants for a good three minutes, as if to say, "I didn't even know we had any of these left. I thought we sold out of these, oh, I don't know, two years ago."

I looked at her and did NOT try to recover the awkwardness, muttering something about "at $4, you can't lose."

Finally she does NOT look at us and say:

"Well, these are pretty warm pants, so I guess that's why they're on sale. I mean, no one wears these in summer...or ever."

My husband's reply?

"But they're corduroys!"

*My husband did NOT also kiss me good-bye Saturday morning and then quickly stick his tongue in my nose, which grossed me out so badly that anytime he brought his face near mine over the last two days, I cringed. Seriously, I did NOT feel totally violated. I am NOT cringing right now just thinking about it. We are NOT going to have to have a talk about this later. No way. Because I do NOT need to talk to my grown, mature husband about ridiculous matters such as this. That's beneath our mature marriage.

* To make up for being a corduroy-wearing, disgusting-kissing, pillow-abusing Paula Deen lover, my husband did NOT buy me a bag of kettle corn from a fair in a neighboring county, as well as design the invitations for the bridal shower I'm throwing for my friend. I guess there are NOT trade-offs in any marriage.

Happy Monday, everyone!

Not Me! Monday

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. Head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have NOT been doing this week.

*Our house office is currently NOT such a mess that, instead of cleaning it, I've simply closed the door to it for the last week. No way. Not me. I'm definitely not that bad of a housekeeper.

* This morning, my husband did NOT turn the T.V. on and find "A Baby Story" for me, saying, "Here, babe, I know you like to watch these baby shows, now that you're home for the summer." I did NOT then lay down a huge helping of guilt by uttering the following: "I just can't watch these anymore. They hurt my heart because I want a baby." My husband did NOT then roll his eyes at me as he was leaving for work. Apparently, he is NOT immune to my pointless, random guilt anymore. Sigh. I now have no idea what I'm going to do to get my way around this place anymore!

* Because I'm NOT all-over the stay-at-home wife gig this summer, I did NOT make elaborate menu plans for every night of this week, which were NOT complete with homemade desserts. I do NOT already know that I'm doomed to fail. I do NOT hear the Crock-pot calling my name, even though I did NOT vow to give the Crock-pot a break once school was out for the summer.

* I did NOT have a student call me on my cell phone yesterday to tell me how her gall bladder surgery went. I was NOT entirely shocked as to how in the heck she got my number, until my stilted, awkward conversation must have tipped her off (and you know it had to be bad to tip a 14 year old off,) because she uttered the phrase, "Oh, my mom totally had your digits, Mrs. C. And I told her I had to tell you how the operation went." I was NOT more than a little irritated at the thought of my teenage charges for 10 months of the year being able to track me down for the two months where they weren't my responsibilty. (But before you think I'm competely heartless...I did NOT find it a little sweet that she wanted to tell me about her surgery. I was NOT glad she was doing well:)

*Speaking of students, last week, I did NOT walk into a frozen yogurt joint in sweaty workout clothes and no make-up, only to see another student and her family helping themselves to the creamy, low-fat treat. I did NOT then make a beeline for the bathroom and lock myself in, only to emerge after my dear friend texted me that they "had paid and were currently exiting the premises." Seriously, every time I walk out of the house looking like a gross teenager, I do NOT run into the actual gross teenagers I teach.

*Yesterday, while I was reading a book on the couch, my dog did NOT manage to wedge his head between my knees, putting himself in a virtual headlock. I did NOT then fall asleep like that, only to wake up and find the poor dog staring up at me, plaintively, from between my legs, as if to say, "Please! Let me out of this vice grip!"

*I have NOT spent the last week trying to cajole my husband into doing a guest post. I don't think he's buying it.

*I do NOT know that I have had several requests to tell my my love story, along with details about a place I worked, both of which I alluded to in a previous post. I also do NOT remember that a while back I also mentioned that I know how to make lots of tasty treats with cake mixes. I do NOT promise, over the next few weeks, that I will take care of these. No worries. All of them do NOT take a long time to write, so I'm NOT currently trying to work up the courage and brain power to get it all down on the blog. (You know, because I have such a problem being long-winded. Yeah, right.)

Happy Monday everyone!

Not Me! Monday: The My-Parents-Are-Going-Crazy Edition

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. Head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have NOT been doing this week

I was NOT wandering around Target aimlessly yesterday when my cell phone rang. It was NOT my father, who proceeded to have the following conversation with me:

Me: Hey Dad! What's up?
Dad: Question.
Me: OK, shoot.
Dad: I'm writing a book. (It's appropriate to note that my father is not a writer, or anything close to a writer, by trade.)
Me: Ummmmm, oookkkkk..
Dad: Yes, I'm writing a book.
Me: Why?
Dad: Because I've got a book I want to write.
Me: OK. So, what's your question?
Dad: So my question is, how do you write a book?

I wish I was kidding, but I'm NOT. Apparently, my dad is NOT planning on writing, get this, a science-fiction novel, where my brothers will serve as consultants, my mother will serve as "chief critic," and I will serve as an editor.

Anyways, back to the cell phone conversation...

Dad: Your mother wants to talk to you.
Mom: Hi.
Me: Dad's writing a book?
Mom: Yes. I don't know why, really. I think this is what we're doing to deal with being alone with each other all the time. (My parents will be empty nesters in T-minus three weeks, once my youngest brother moves out to attend the Air Force Academy.)
Mom: I'm not actually that sure about this book thing is a good idea, so instead I think I'm going to start a blog, Tales of the Empty Nest, or something like that.
Me: Well, Mom, that's great. I'm sure there is a huge community of women who blog out there who happen to be empty-nesters.
Mom: Oh, of course, I mean, there has to be. There must be a huge need for a thing like that.
Me: Yep. Well, that's exciting. I think you'll be good.
Mom: Just one thing.
Me: Yeah?
Mom: I'm going to need your help. I mean, how do you start a blog?

Yes, you read that right. My father, a former history teacher turned businessman, and my mother, a former stay-at-home mom turn accountant/administrative whiz, are NOT venturing into the world of self-publishing. Sigh.

Apparently, my summer plans are NOT going to involve teaching my father how to use ellipsis, commas and quotations and my mother how to run her own blog. It's also important to note that my mom doesn't check my blog on a regular basis. I'm NOT a little concerned that her blog is going to either a) be neglected completely after two posts or alternately, b) get updated so frequently that it's a terrifying nightmare to keep up with, much like my inbox when she figured out how to forward chain e-mails. (Mom, I know they're inspiring and sweet, but I have guilt when I don't forward them along, especially when they say something along the lines of "...and please send it back to me, the lovely wonderful person who sent this to you and loves you so much and would die for you and was in labor for 36+ hours with you. Can't you just send this right back to me to show me you love me, since you moved away at 18 and rarely come back to visit unless it's Christmas or you want our old furniture?")

But no matter how you slice it, I will NOT, at some point in the near future, be providing you all with a link to my mother's blog, an expose' on the seedy underbelly of what happens when you leave your parents unattended on the weekends.

I wish I could say the same for my father's burgeoning work.

But I do NOT have two main concerns when it comes to the world's next Michael Crichton.

First, he has illegible handwriting and types with one finger. I am NOT placing bets that this will be the slowest book ever written.

And second, I got the following voicemail from my father around lunch time today....

"Brittany, it's Dad. I'm calling to remind you to send us that wedding photo. Oh, and also, to tell you that I've got my book outlined. Yes, I've got on outline all right. But it's kind of a virtual outline. I mean, it's an outline that's not on paper. But I've got an outline. It's just all in my head."

Oh, boy.

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Don't forget to enter my giveaway! It ends at midnight tomorrow!

Not Me! Monday

*I did NOT wake up before 7 a.m. on Sunday morning for no apparent reason. Then, it did NOT take me more than two hours that morning to figure out that I woke up because I was NOT running a low-grade fever (which did NOT explain the early-morning sweating issue I'd had. Lovely, I know.) We have NOT entered the last week of the school year, and I am NOT sick as a dog. Or, rather I'm NOT as sick as a pig, because I had least three teachers recoil when I said I was a litle under the weather this morning, and then ask me, in all seriousness, "You don't think you have swine flu, do you?" Ugh.

*I did NOT make an emergency trip to CVS Pharmacy this morning to stock up on Airborne, Theraflu and zinc lozenges, only to have the cashier look at my loot and mutter "Sweeettt," like I was about to start tripping on all the vitamins and cold meds I was buying so I could make it through a day in my classroom. I did NOT then give him a scathing look, to which he responded, and I am NOT completely serious, "What? You know, some places don't drug test out there." Um, EXCUSE ME? Were the teacher keys jangling around my neck not a dead give-away that going to work high isn't exactly a possibility?

* The hubs and I did NOT do five loads of laundry yesterday. Five. My domestic skills have NOT been severly lacking over the last few weeks. However, I did NOT redeem myself by making the easiest, simplest dinner ever last night, which my husband did NOT rave about it. Apparently, all those fancy casseroles and meals I've made were NOT a waste of time, because a simple turkey breast and corn on the cob was NOT all this man wanted. Sigh.

*I did NOT buy a maxi dress this weekend that I already own. I did NOT buy it in a different color but in the same size, because I love, love, love it that much. However, even though my new navy one is the exact same dress and size as my old purple one, the navy one is NOT hanging off me. Apparently, I've NOT lost weight, but I've also NOT shrunk, as this dress is NOT dragging a good two inches on the floor. I did NOT wear it to work today anyways.

* I did NOT have my cell phone on vibrate and stashed in my purse all weekend, and instead of actually checking it, I did NOT just assume that no one called me Friday, Saturday or Sunday, except for my mother, who I picked up for because her call was the one time I felt the phone vibrate because I was NOT holding my purse in my lap in the car Saturday. The rest of the time, the phone did NOT stay stashed in the purse, which was stashed by the door to the house. I did NOT finally fish it out of my purse at 10 p.m. Sunday night, only to realize I'd missed nine phone calls. Thanks to a hectic schedule, it will NOT take me forever to call everyone back. (I'm sorry everyone! I promise to call back tonight/tomorrow!)

* I was NOT teaching a relaxation/stretching class on Saturday morning, when a participant did NOT ask me to speak up. This is NOT the first time in my life when I've been asked to be louder instead of quieter. Which does NOT mean that I've spent so much of my life being loud that when I try to quiet down and use a relaxing, soothing voice, I simply don't know how to do it. I just do NOT become inaudible. Talk about extremes.

*I have NOT developed an unexplainable obsession with French bread pizza. I did NOT eat it twice this weekend. I am NOT planning on making it for dinner tonight as well.

* I am NOT doing a give-away tomorrow, so do NOT check back to enter!

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. Head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have NOT been doing this week, as well as how her sweet baby Stellan is holding up.