Workout Wednesday: Your Questions; Answered!

Hello everyone!

I've had a few of you send me fitness and exercise questions, and I figure, for every one of us wondering about something, there are tons of others silently pondering the matter, too.

So, I give you another Q&A edition of Workout Wednesday!

From Sare: How important is it to drink protein shakes just after you work out? I was told it helps repair the muscles you just damaged when you lift weights. Is that true?

In theory, yes, this is true. You see, as you strength train, you create teeny, tiny tears in your muscle tissue.

As your body repairs those tears, you get stronger, fitter, and leaner. So while it sounds counter-intuitive, it is indeed a healthy, fit process.

Now, some people will tell you that you can use protein shakes to help that muscle repair along. And yes, technically, that's correct. But in many cases, protein shakes can also add unnecessary calories to womens' diets. They also can dehydrate you, which will hurt your progress and the repair of your muscles. Water is a huge part of the muscle-building process.

So unless you're doing extremely intense weight-lifting, you're better off drinking lots of water and eating a snack that has some good fats, some protein, and some healthy carbs. A glass of milk and an apple with peanut-butter, for example, are doing to do wonders for our body after a workout, especially when coupled with a bottle of water.

But, if you're still interested in protein shakes, or you feel that your weight-bearing workout is particularly intense, then make sure you look into shakes that are made specifically for women. And when in doubt about some of the shake's ingredients, consult a nutritionist. They can tell you what nutrients in the shake will help or hinder your performance.

From Mrs. Southern Bride: Do you ever recommend exercise videos?

This is a tough one for me. Technically, I'm all about any exercise method that gets you up and gets you moving.

So, yes, exercise videos are a great way to get in your daily dose of exercise right in the comfort of your own home.

However, I have two big issues that I sometimes find cause problems for people who use videos as their main source of exercise.

1. Boredom: Unless you own a library full of fitness videos, you can only do the videos you have so many times before you start to know what's coming next, or even, what the instructor is going to say next to push you forward. That's not good for your psyche; i.e., you're going to get bored stiff and stop exercising. And it's also not good for you body. Because when your body knows what's coming next, it becomes efficient. An efficient body means you burn less calories and use less energy doing the exercises, and that means you're not getting fitter. You're just getting less out of your workout.

2. Intensity: To be honest, I've reviewed lots of exercise videos. A few are decent. But many of them are a crock. They're not intense enough to kick your booty into shape consistently. Especially long-term. Once you've mastered them, there's very few videos that can keep up with your intensity. You will be stronger than the videos at some point. In some cases, the videos out there are so easy that you'll surpass them in as little as two weeks. And at that point, you'll need to find something else to do, and very few videos will help you there. Most of the time, you'll need a gym membership and access to a facility with classes and equipment to take you to the next level.

That's not to say all videos are bad. They are a great way to jump start your fitness regimen, and for those of you that adore routine and structure, you may find the video regimen soothing and productive.

My friend Lindsey, over at Learning to be a Wife, had a great idea to fight video boredom: Find a friend who has different videos than you, and swap on a monthly basis. That way, you can try a larger variety of videos and prevent your body from plateauing and becoming too efficient. Thanks, Lindsey!

From Neha: Can you tell me how to lose fat from my face? My body structure is fine otherwise, but my face is broad and chubby and the first area where I put on weight (the only area sometimes!) I really need to tone it, as tied hair looks terrible on me. Could you help?

Unfortunately, there's no proven way to lose weight solely from one part of your body, whether it be your arms, your abs, or even your face.

The only way to lose weight, or lose fat, is to burn more calories than you take in. In other words, you have to exercise enough per day so that you burn more calories than you eat per day. But even this will cause you to lose weight all over your body: your arms, your abs, and yes, even you face. All of it.

You just can't keep the rest of your body the same size and shrink only one part. That's called spot reduction, and it's a fitness myth, perpetuated by the videos that featured 1980s, Jane-Fonda-style calisthenics.

As far as where you store your fat the longest, and what part of your body you lose it from the easiest, that's largely genetic and dependent on your build.

For instance, I hold my weight in my butt and thighs. That's also the last place I ever lose weight.

The same can be said of women who carry their weight in their middles, or in their breasts, or, yes, even in their faces.

But remember, our bodies are what they are; they are different and beautiful and unique vessels that carry us through life. So even if you're not a fan of your "trouble zone," remember, it's part of what makes you, you.

A good balance of cardio exercise and a healthy diet will keep all of us in well-balanced, unique, and beautiful shape. Genetics will determine the rest.

***

So, until next week, Happy Exercising!

And if anyone has a question, feel free to e-mail me or post it below! I'd be happy to answer to the best of my ability!

Me, My Family, and Some Famous People: Part 2

Find Part 1 here.

***

So while I was en route to a fun and fabulous John Mayer concert, I took a call from my brother.

Who was in Washington, D.C., being all high-end and impressive.

Because my baby bro had been invited to the President's National Prayer Breakfast.

Apparently, he's just that important.

So while his big sis is just a teacher who's lucky enough to sing along with John Mayer one weekend, my brother - a plain, old military officer - gets to represent the state of Florida at the President's National Shindig for All Things Prayerful and Sacred.

Yes, my little brother prayed with President Barack Obama.

And Vice President Joe Biden.

And several other senators and congressional representatives, who - when not praying - were all too eager to shake his hand, buy him drinks, and talk to him about his life for the day-and-half event.

He even ate dinner with William P. Young, the author of the hit novel The Shack.

But besides rubbing elbows with the Obamas and other D.C. elite, he made a friend - a friend who, where I come from, pretty much trumps meeting the President of the United States.

It all started when my brother took his seat for dinner the first night.

Being young and nervous, and desperately trying to hang on in a conversation with U.S. senator Bill Nelson, my brother felt relieved when a younger guy about his age sat down next to him.

My brother said he recognized the guy, but barely. It was the classic, "I think I know you from somewhere. But where?" scenario.

Nervously, my brother gave his new table-mate a smile. The young guy smiles back, extends his hand, and says, "Hi there. I'm Tim."

My brother nods, smiles, introduces himself, all while wondering, "Who's Tim, and how do I know him?"

Tim, it turned out, was very interested in my brother, his military career, his relationship with God, and his general outlook on life.

My brother said they were having a genuinely nice, fraternal conversation when Tim haphazardly mentioned something about "being nervous with the draft coming up."

And by "draft," he totally meant the NFL Draft.

As in, the place all big-time college football players go to be farmed out according to their rank and talent level.

It's enough to make a grown man quake with fear.

Even if that grown man happens to be the one and only Tim Tebow.

Or, in other words, my brother's new best friend.

Yes, my brother had befriended - unknowingly, mind you - University of Florida former quarterback, Heisman Trophy-winner, controversial Super Bowl commercial star, and Christian powerhouse Tim Tebow.

source

At this point, my brother did the obligatory tie-in and managed to mention that his dear big sister was also a fellow Florida Gator - a proud University of Florida alumni.

He also may or may not have mentioned the fact that his sister makes a mean pot roast and still lives in the UF vicinity should Tim ever need a home-cooked meal while he's finishing up his bachelor's degree this year.

Or I may have imagined that part.

But whatever.

My brother ate dinner with the President and chatted up Tim Tebow.

In some weird six degrees of separation, I am now a de-facto politico who wines and dines infamous college football players.

Or I'm just a high-school teacher with a wild imagination who enjoys living vicariously through my little brother.

My life is uber-exciting, people. Uber.

But still! Tim Tebow and my brother. Just a bunch of old chums. Laughing and talking and praying and sharing war stories from the football field and the pool. (My brother - who is actually Tim's age - was a college water polo player.)

All while President Barack and First Lady Michelle look on beneficently. (Or at least that's how I imagined it going down.)

What a weekend.

For my brother.

I'm just the sister he told about it.

But still, a girl can dream.

So here's hoping one day my brother brings his new friend Tim over for dinner.

And hey, the President can totally come, too.

***

Happy Tuesday everyone! And if you haven't done so yet, don't forget to enter my Bloggy Birthday Giveaway!

Me, My Family, and Some Famous People: Part 1

I'm not a big celebrity follower.

I don't read the gossip mags; I don't check People or US Weekly's Web sites; heck, I don't even follow celebrities on Twitter.

Frankly, I don't see the attraction.

When your life consists of corralling high-school students 10 months out of the year, celebrity and all that it entails pales in comparison.

I'm too busy living in the moment. (Teehee. Get it? Get it?)

Plus, I'm also pretty oblivious to all things celebrity.

I have approximately zero "I Met A Famous Person" stories.

Well, one time, I drove by Hulk Hogan on the interstate, turned to my college friend and said, "I think that's Hulk Hogan," before I returned to eating SweetTarts and jamming out to The Cranberries.

Other than that, though, I'm pretty celebrity-run-in free.

So when our dear friends Nigel and Hannah invited us to attend the John Mayer concert this weekend, I was excited. When I found out how good are seats were, I was doubly excited. And when I found out it would allow us to spend some wonderful time with our dear friends, I was triply excited.

But I didn't really think about the fact that I was going to be pretty darn close to John Mayer, guitar-playing heart-throb and major (and sometimes controversial) celebrity.

Except, in fact, we were.

And it was awesome.

Regardless of how you feel about good, old, politically outspoken J. Mayer, he's quite the impressive musician. I was blown away by his talent, as well as by his natural hilarity and sense of sarcastic, yet comic, timing.

I also gathered a few other observations about John Mayer, who, I might add, was close enough to me that I'm fairly certain we held eye contact for a good minute of one song, which only ended when I turned to the hubs and said, "I'm fairly certain John Mayer was just looking at right at me. I hope you're not jealous."(Apparently, the hubs was not.)

So, without further ado, I give you, Several Things I Want to Tell John Mayer (When We Meet Again and He Tells My Husband - Very Respectfully - That I Am a Charming Woman.)

1. "John Mayer, you have a freakishly tiny hiney."
Look, I'm not the kind of girl that checks out another man's hiney. I have values. But it was hard not to notice John's teeny tiny behind. Its very itsy-bitsy nature made it hard not to stare at it. Even my husband noticed Mayer's teensy tush. It was so small, it was just weird. Then again, Mr. Mayer's insistence on shaking his hips rhythmically to his guitar rifts really made it hard to avert your eyes from his back-end.

Frankly, you can't blame me.

2. "John Mayer, you own more guitars than God."
OK, that may be a slight exaggeration. But seriously, the man had so many guitars on stage that he seemed to be using two or three a song without repeating. He even had his own "guitar tuner," who worked in a kneeling position, holding a flashlight between his teeth, to repair John's guitars when they seemed not to be to Mr. Mayer's liking. And, while I know that I'm not a music aficionado, I have to wonder, "Why so many, John? Why so many?" Seriously, how many guitars does one man need? Does it really make a big difference? Or do you just enjoy making your roadies work extra hard?

Shame on you, John. Guitar gluttony is not becoming.

3. "John Mayor, if you are really dating Taylor Swift, I'm deeply saddened. And a little enraged."
I didn't know about this little Mayer-Swift rumor until my husband filled me in on it while we were heading toward the concert. When I found out, I blurted out, and I quote, "No way. No how. He's not that seedy. Wasn't Jennifer Aniston enough?" (Another concert-goer behind me gave me the old "Amen, sister!" after my exclamation, and we then exchanged the well-practiced Gaze of Female Understanding: The "Oh, Men!" Eye Roll.) But later, another girl behind me, holding up the "John, 'You Belong With Me,'" sign, begged to differ.

Apparently, Johnny is that seedy.

To me, this screams Creepy Lolita-Conquest Material. It's the classic older celebrity man conquering the pretty, innocent, young country singer for all the world to see just. because. he. can. Which - again - is shady. And terrible for poor Taylor. And for John. And for the general teeny-bopper following both of them have gathered over the past few years.

Come on, you two, think about the kids.

4. "John Mayer, if you have an opening, would you consider hiring me as a back-up singer?"
I am mystified by back-up bands. I love the back-up bass player; I'm in awe of the back-up guitarist. And don't even get me started on the drummer. I love me some drummer-watching.

To be honest, I think I'd make an excellent addition to any back-up band. I can head-bob with wanton abandon, sing along as needed, and wear glittery T-shirts bedazzled with art right from the cover of John Mayer's newest album.

But considering I can't play guitar, bass or drums - and the fact that my middle-school flute-playing skills have long since expired - I think my only option is to stand behind John and sway, swinging my arms from side to side and going, "Ooh, ooh, ooh ooh!"

However, let me tell you, I can work a crowd and semi-carry a tune. I also look fabulous in glitter.

John, please, take a chance on me.

***

In all seriousness, we had a great time. And we were beyond blessed to spend a wonderful weekend with our dear friends. Both the hubs and I treasured the time with them. (Thanks, Nigel and Hannah!)

However, my celebrity experience was trumped. Because while I was en route to standing within shouting distance from John Mayer for two straight hours, my brother called me.

From Washington, D.C.

Where he was currently interacting with some big-time politicians.

And where he had met some other big-time people over the weekend.

Like, seriously, big-time.

Bigger than Taylor Swift. Bigger than John Mayer.

Big-time.

My little brother trumped me, Mayer, and all that our special weekend entailed.

So tune in for Part 2 tomorrow to find out exactly who my brother rubbed shoulders with over his fun weekend.

Until then, I'll be practicing my back-up vocals for John Mayer's next tour.

Me me me me me me me me me me...

***

Happy Monday everyone!

Out of the coffee culture

I had my last cup of coffee on Jan. 2.

My last cup.

I remember it fondly: The rich taste of ground beans, the smoothness of the vanilla creamer, the hit of caffeine as the warm beverage pulsed through my veins.

It was bliss.

Bliss I haven't touched in 34.5 days.

Not that I'm counting or anything.

You see, I'd become a little too dependent on coffee. I craved everything about it; it's comfort, it's warmth, it's sweet ability to numb my caffeine-addicted headaches and quiet the screaming students I surround myself with eight hours a day.

So, I quit.

I gave it up.

Cold turkey.

I figured my reliance was getting a bit out of control, plus, I have a huge fear of getting pregnant and having to go off caffeine.

Like, seriously, I'm all about contractions and bleeding and labor pains. But living without caffeine for nine months? Dear God, that's not human! (Plus, I don't want to resent my unborn child for making me give up my first love. Because no matter how precious my future babies will be, Momma loves her coffee.)

See, told you I had a problem.

So, I decided to jump the gun. Before some midwife tells me to "cut back," I'm doing it myself. Because I figure it has to be easier to quit barren instead of when you're exhausted and eight weeks into lugging around a growing fetus. Plus, I like to suffer on my own terms.

My logic and reasoning should run the world, I tell you.

Now, to be frank, there have been perks.

I don't miss the process of making my morning coffee: The grinding, the filter, the mess I'd inevitably make operating kitchen machinery in the early hours, because, after all, my motor skills were always off before I had my coffee.

I don't miss the absolute panic I'd melt into in the afternoons when the teacher's lounge was locked, and I couldn't get to my drug of choice, which, basically, has been the only thing that's helped me survive grading high-school English papers up until now.

And I definitely don't miss what inevitably happens about 35 minutes after drinking a cup of joe, which used to require me to time my drive to school in the morning just so, so as to avoid waiting in a line for the teacher's bathroom when, really, I had to go YOU-KNOW-WHAT five minutes ago.

So, yes, my bowels, at least, are grateful I've gone off coffee.

But now, the rest of the world is not so sure.

For I've become a bit of social pariah without it.

For instance, while all the other teachers are taking a coffee break, I'm sadly nursing a cup of herbal tea when one teacher offers to cut me in on his espresso. I start to shake my head no, before he laughs and mutters, "Oh yeah, that's right. You're crazy and not drinking coffee these days."

When my students filter in for the morning class and see me drinking - gasp! - water, a few express shock, dismay, and one actually yells, "Mrs. C gave up coffee? Dear God! What's the world coming to?"

When at the grocery store, my husband actually suggests buying instant coffee "because you don't get up and make it for us anymore, and frankly, I don't know what else to do."

By definition, apparently, it's a world gone mad.

You'd think I was some sort of trail-blazer, like a woman who quit smoking back in the 1950s.

But no, I've just gone off coffee. And even my husband doesn't know "what else to do."

And yeah, sure, I stare at coffee pots longingly. In Target. In restaurants. In other peoples' homes.

And maybe, sometimes, when walking near a warm caffeinated beverage (or - heaven forbid - a Starbucks) I sniff the air as if I'm about to be shipped off to work in stinky, smelly junk yard.

And I may or may not, allegedly, shoot daggers at any soul in my vicinity who decides to indulge in a cup of coffee while in my presence or direct line of vision. (This would include my husband, co-workers, and one poor student who mistakenly brought a Starbucks' hot chocolate with them to school yesterday.)

But still, other than the caffeine headaches, the mid-afternoon drowsiness, and my always-crabby exterior, I think it's going quite well.

In fact, I don't see what the big deal is.

So I gave up coffee. So I've got 14 personalized coffee mugs I can no longer use. So I get the night sweats.

No biggie.

I can do this.

But I swear, if you bring a steaming cup of coffee anywhere near me, I will not be held responsible for what happens to you.

***

Hope everyone has a wonderful weekend! And don't forget to enter my Bloggy Birthday giveaway!

Bloggy Birthday: Turning One and Celebrating!

A year ago today, I sat down and started writing.

I sat down and started writing this blog.

I jotted down some thoughts, hit "Publish," and nervously waited to see if anyone, other than my good friends and family, would read them.

It was the only time I've ever been nervous about something I'd written.

Having formerly worked as a journalist, I'd often written for a living. I wrote newspaper columns, online articles, even in-depth magazine pieces.

But only when my career took a different turn, steering me into teaching, did I start to write for myself.

I started to write here, on this blog.

It was the first time I'd ever written about me. As me.

And I wasn't entirely sure how to do it.

Journalists are hard-wired to leave themselves out of the story, but here, on this blog, I am the story.

Flaws and all, I'd decided to put my life on the Internet. For no good reason whatsoever.

I had no real message to deliver. For my life isn't glamorous, or interesting, or exciting.

I don't take pretty pictures. For I lack the kind of patience and skill it takes to keep a camera pinned to my side.

And I have no hidden talents. For I'm pretty sure my love of reading and eating popcorn doesn't classify as a hobby.

To be honest, I really wasn't sure what I was doing.

Like so many of us out there, I just had a desire to blog. To reach out with words that were not carefully crafted to match some media message, but instead, with words that could reach whoever wanted to read them.

But also, words that no one had to read at all.

So I hit "Publish," pessimistically warning myself that no one in their right mind would want to read about a recently married high-school teacher. Girding myself for the lack of commentary my posts would receive. Almost preparing to drop this whole "blogging thing" before I even got started.

And then I received my first comment. And it wasn't from a friend. It wasn't even from my mother.

It was from a complete stranger.

Someone who chose to read my words.

I was blown away.

I was shocked.

I was honored.

And I was hooked.

Now, I blog more comfortably. More calmly. It's a personal goal; it's a personal responsibility. It's one I take seriously, but it's also one I treasure. Blogging is the part of my day that belongs to me, that I shape, that I hold dear.

It's the part of my day where I meet with my friends.

It's the part of my day where I meet with you all.

The response and support I have received from people who were complete strangers to me less than a year ago has blown me away. I have treasured every comment; I have treasured every e-mail; I have treasured every post in which we've all been able to communicate, to reach out for help, to laugh together, to cry on each other's virtual shoulders, to live our lives, and to write as ourselves without fear of judgment and reproach.

You all have made my days, my weeks, my months, my year.

And you all have made me a blogger.

So, with that, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. For being kind, for being supportive. For being willing to read my words when I thought no one else would care.

And I want to offer you all a giveaway; a little token of my appreciation for making this first year as a blogger such a joy for me.

So thank you, thank you, thank you.

Now, let's celebrate!

As we're all well aware, I'm no fashionista; I'm no interior designer; heck, I'm not much of a cook. (Seriously, why do you all read this blog anyways?)

I am just a woman who enjoys a good experience. I enjoy that perfect moment. That moment you can treasure. That moment you can live in.

So today, I wanted to give you that moment. I wanted to gift you all with the makings of a perfect afternoon, so that maybe you can venture out on a Sunday afternoon and create a time that you can just live in. A time where you can just be.

So in honor of that ideal, one lucky winner is going to receive a "Living in the Moment" package, complete with:

*An Urban Outfitters DIY Tapestry, which makes the perfect picnic blanket, or - for you crafty types - can be turned into a hip table-cloth, curtain or bed coverlet
Yours will come in a pink, black, and white pattern, which also has purple and red accents. It's a bit bohemian, which explains why it was the one I went for. I tend to throw buttoned-up and orderly to the wind when it comes to fabric. I live for the crazy in my textiles.
*Next up, you'll get a snazzy red Koko insulated tote, which makes for a fashionable lunch box or cleverly disguised purse.
I don't know about you all, but I enjoy carrying a bag that can help hold my lunch. And keep it salmonella-free.

*You'll also get a a cute Smart Wool Cap in Deep Purple
This little beauty manages to be fashion forward and timeless. Let's just say it's cute enough that this Florida girl is willing to wear wool.

*And last but not least, you'll receive a couple other things that help me complete my perfect day: A fancy-shmancy aluminum water bottle, a few of my favorite reads, some travel-worthy snacks, and a set of four stackable memo pads, each labeled with the oh-so-appropriate, "To remember...," "To call...," "To buy...," and "To do..." (I love me a good list!)
All together, that's 10 items in total I'm sending to one lucky-ducky blog-friend. So, would you like to enter?

I'd love for you to! Someone has to win, so why not you?

Here's how:

Entry #1 - Leave a comment on this post, saying hi! If you're new, introduce yourself! Leave a link to your blog! Whatever floats your boat! There are plenty of you out there I'm achin' to meet.

Entry #2 - Become a follower or tell me if you are one.

Entry #3 - Tweet about the giveaway. (Make sure to leave your Twitter name in your comment, so I can come by and say hello!)

Entry #4 - Blog about the giveaway. (And thank you, in advance, for doing so!)

That's it! I will close the giveaway next Thursday, Feb. 11, at 8 p.m., and the winner will be announced the following Friday, Feb. 12.

Thanks for playing along!

And thank you, again, to all you faithful friends and followers I've grown to love over this last year. You have truly touched my heart and my life! I am so blessed to know you all.

Happy Birthday Living in the Moment!

Workout Wednesday: On Location

Today, Workout Wednesday is coming to you on location, over at my friend Linz's blog, Destination 26.2.

I'm over there today, recommending four bargain buys every runner (and every exercise fan!) should keep in their closet, gym bag or back pocket.

So, head on over toe Destination 26.2 and check it out!

Happy Exercising!

***

P.S. Come back tomorrow because we've got a big, fun surprise happening around here! Hint: It starts with a "Give" and ends with an "Away!"

P.P.S. I received a bunch of questions on last week's Workout Wednesday, and I still haven't gotten a chance to answer them all yet. I'm sorry! I promise; I'm not ignoring you girls! I think I'm going to store them all up and do a Q&A for next week's Workout Wednesday. So if anyone has any additional exercise-related questions, feel free to post them below. I will take care of everything next week.

Me, my office, and a nice stash of drugs

So, I hobbled back to work Monday, still a little sore and weak from the Death-Like Flu I'd contracted last Wednesday.

Some of my students expressed concern and sympathy.

And all of them lamented the fact that I was not moving the due-date of their current project because, after all, "You weren't here to remind us that it was due, and how were we supposed to know to look at the white board for the reminder?"

Because, yes, I'm a horrible teacher, and I didn't put flashing, warning lights around the big, bold note on the board that reads, "IMPORTANT: Your Projects Are Due Wednesday! No Late Work Accepted!"

But still, it was pretty much business as usual.

Until I tripped.

I tripped, holding a stack of graded assignments that went flying everywhere.

All over my students. All over the class desks. All over everything.

Unfortunately, this isn't all that Earth-shaking for me. I laughed and started to pick them all up, along with the assistance of one of my more - shall we say - "connected" students.

Trying to make small talk, as the rest of the class was working on a deadline, I laughed and said, "Well, I guess I need to be more careful. I think these drugs I'm taking for my cold are going to my head."

The student looked up, shocked. Worried, even. A quick glance at his expression made me quite sure I was heading toward a rather unpleasant conversation:

Student: Mrs. C, you better be careful saying that. People are going to think you're on drugs. Then the principal will come and search your locker.
Me: Oh my! Well, I doubt that! Plus, teachers don't have lockers.
Student: Well, Mrs. C, if you don't have a locker, then where do you stash your drugs?
NOTE: This would have been the time to come clean and realize that I was talking to an irrational teenager who probably doesn't get sarcasm. Except, of course, I didn't do that.
Me: Oh, that's why they give us offices, my dear. It's a place to store all our drugs.
Student: You stash drugs in your office? Can I stash mine there, too?

Oh yeah.

He went there.

And me? I didn't know what to say.

Frankly, I'd brought this one on myself.

I managed to ramble out something along the lines of, "Honey, I'm totally kidding. I don't do drugs. You shouldn't either. And you really shouldn't be bringing them to school."

The kid just stared at me and laughed, awkwardly.

I laughed back, awkwardly.

We pretended it never happened, awkwardly.

I thanked the Lord above I wasn't being observed by the principal that day and continued to gather up the papers I'd dropped.

I'm sure it doesn't bode well in the school system's eyes when a teacher flies over the line of indecency and blatantly breaks Idiot-Proof Teacher Rule #1: Under no circumstances should you acknowledge that illegal substances exist, let alone partake in them, pretend to partake in them, or joke around in a manner that lends one to believe you may or may not be partaking in them.

Because seriously, what kind of yahoo jokes around about stashing narcotics in her office?

This girl, apparently.

This girl does.

What can I say? I blame the drugs.

***

Happy Tuesday everybody!