Tiny Talk Tuesday: Snow Storm Edition

I’m finally getting the opportunity to post a legit Tiny Talk Tuesday!  You have a snow storm and nasty cold to thank for that.  I wish I could say I felt better, but I feel worse.  And despite the chiropractor swearing to me that I’ll feel better for it, round two at his office just has me moving an icepack from one part of my back to the other.  Good times.

I’ve been jotting down the funny things my students say on scraps of paper and sticky notes for about three years now.  All of these are in one folder, in a giant jumbled up mess.  Hopefully I don’t repeat any from before.

G- “I’m allergic to clowns.”  “I’m allergic to cries.” “I’m allergic to colored drinks.” (for the record, this kid is not allergic to anything…just stuff he doesn’t like.)

S- “I’m boring in your class.” (translation- I’m bored)

Overheard this conversation in the kitchen center one day:  T- “I live in China and I speak Spanish.”  J- “China is next to my neighbors house.”

We were reviewing who Dr. Seuss was the week of his birthday, and my new student had this to say (with very expressive hand I might add), “Dr. Seuss thoughts of things and wrote lots for childrens. Then he got old and died and they buried him in the incentitary.”  I asked him what the incentitary is and he told me, “It’s where they bury people.”  Got it…cemetary.

L- “I’m going to read ALL of the Dr. Goose books!” (Seuss)

D- “Crocodiles are only real in another state!”

W- “George Washington is a leprechaun and tricky…like Obama in a costume.”  There’s a back story that you need to hear with this one.  A month or so ago, we received a package at the school from A Beka. Since we use their curriculum it was nothing unusual except that when we opened it, we found a framed print of George Washington.  No note, no invoice, nothing.  After letting George sit in the office for another month our director got the bright idea to hang it in the Kindergarten teacher’s room while we were at recess.  It was a funny surprise for her and the kids.  The prank has morphed from that into George being “decked out” in various ways and left in an ususpecting staff member’s office or teacher’s classroom.  This was what George looked like when he made it to my room!  Although the comment about Obama makes no sense at all.

W- “I can eat Polish at home.” Me- “What Polish foods do you eat?” W- “Ketchup and mustard.”

J- “When I grow up I can be two things: a doctor and a cheerleader.  But I think I have to be like, 30, to be a cheerleader.”

S- “I’m not talking to the flag today because my voice will run away.” (one of the many excuses I hear not to have to say the pledge.)

B- “It’s a bulldozer.”  Me- “I thought that’s a dump truck.”  B- “It is a dump truck.  I just call it a bulldozer in French.”

I was explaining that mule is another word for donkey, since mule was one of the two-vowel words in their reading books.  S said, “Mule is how you say horse in Spanish.” 

Hope you got a laugh or at least a smile out of those.  It’s time for dinner and since we’re snowed in, and I feel like garbage…it’s cereal night!  Happy Tuesday 🙂

Advertisements

Life By The Numbers

Since January 13th my life has pretty much revolved around numbers.  And for the most part, I’m not good with numbers.  It all started when I joined a Biggest Loser challenge. It’s been a great thing for me.  I know I’m eating healthier, exercising more, and in general feeling much better.  But the numbers!  They’re killing me!  First off, there’s the counting of the calories.  Up until this last week when I totally rebelled and didn’t keep track of my foods for a few days, I was religious in tracking every bite and sip that passed my lips.  After weeks of weighing and measuring food, I’ve gotten pretty good at eyeballing a 4oz serving of chicken.

The most discouraging numbers are the ones on the scale.  Now, I have no shame in telling you how much I weigh.  Some people gasp in shock when weight loss comes up in conversation and I openly share my weight.  It’s just a number.  That’s not the number that bothers me so much.  It’s the inconsistency in the numbers!  When I started way back in January, I was at 207.2lbs.  Now, if its first thing in the morning and all I’ve got on is my birthday suit, I’m at 194.7.  However, if it’s afternoon, and I’m fully clothed, I’m back up to 198.4.  Then, there’s the Saturday morning weigh-in after Zumba.  For the past 3 weeks I haven’t moved more than an ounce up or down from 197.4.  See, that’s a LOT of numbers.  And frankly, I’m sick of them.  I’ll be transitioning from watching numbers to “food pairing”.  I’m not quite sure how this works, but the nutritionist I’ll be meeting with says it’s much better than counting calories. I’m pretty sure she’s not going to talk about “pairing” vanilla ice cream with brownies.

Besides the numbers, I’ve decided to revisit a bit of my youth and start seeing a chiropractor.  All through my teenage years I saw a chiropractor for a myriad of things.  If you’re at all familiar with chiropractic care, what they do pretty much affects everything.  I’ve seen chiropractors do amazing things for people’s health.  The other thing is through a friend’s referral, I got a free consultation appointment.  And free is always good!  The doc took all kinds of x-rays and ran me through a bunch of balance tests (which I totally failed for the record.)  Today I met with him for my free adjustment and to go over my x-rays and his findings.  The doc I’m seeing is super nice and talks fast.  He said he was surprised at how much degeneration he saw on my x-rays (that’s not a good thing) but said it can be helped and doesn’t think it’s time to put me out to pasture (that’s a good thing.)  The adjustment was about what I’d expect…lot’s of popping and cracking.  It made me smile inside when he’d push on my spine and say, “That was a nice pop right there!”  I say “smile inside” because the whole time he was working on my back my face was smashed into that paper cover they put on the table, and I don’t think it was physically possible for me to smile.  And by smashed I mean when I got in my car and looked in the mirror I still had red marks on my forehead.  Besides that, it didn’t exactly feel good.  It didn’t hurt either, but when someone (I don’t care if they are a doctor) grabs your head and says to relax, but looks like they’re about to twist your neck like Jack Bauer would, it’s uncomfortable.  There’s a lot of trust involved.  Since I’m here to type this,  you can be assured I am alive and well.  Ok, alive…not so much well.

I feel like someone beat the crap out of me (pardon my French.)  I’m guessing it was not so much the adjustment, but the massage that followed up the electic-shock-pad thingy and ice.  The ice and shock thingy was fine.  I mean, I got to lay there for 20 minutes in silence.  The massage was what wrecked me.   I was told to go in this room, undress from the waist up and lay face down (ummm…a given!) on the table.  I waited for the nurse to bring me a gown or a paper sheet or something!  No, she just came back and looked surprised that I hadn’t closed the door yet.  Her parting words were, “Cameron will knock before he comes in.”  Huh? What?  He? As in a guy?!?   I stood there a minute thinking really hard and second guessing if she actually said I needed to remove any clothing.  In the end I did as I was told and despite being a bit awkward for me, Cameron massaged every kink and knot out of my shoulders and neck, in the process telling me that his wife is a teacher too and teachers have the most problems with their shoulders and necks.  Ok then.  I prefer silence in awkward situations, thanks anyway.  The good news is with my face smashed in yet another table, and my sinuses completely plugged up, I couldn’t have kept the conversation going had I been crazy enough to want to.  The grand finale was trying to hear and understand through my clogged ears why this guy was talking about taping me up.  I was very confused.  He meant it.  I now have some kind of tape across the back of my neck and shoulders, and down onto my back.  It’s weird.  And itchy.  All I heard was “if you shower pat it dry” and something about “two to five days”.   Alrighty then.

Through this harrowing tale I’ve failed to mention I went to bed last night with a tickle in my throat, only to spend the night tossing and turning because I couldn’t breathe through my nose.  I woke up feeling pretty bad.  I have caught Alisha’s cold.  By the end of the day I felt even worse.  Right now my sinuses are completely plugged, my ears hurt, my head hurts, my throat is scratchy and my entire back, neck, and shoulders ache.  In other words, whaaaaaaaaa!

I’ll be taking some Nyquil very soon.  And praying very, very hard that this snow storm they’re predicting actually happens and we have a snow day.  Please, please, Lord, let it be so!