Summer Lovin'

I absolutely adore Memorial Day Weekend. It's the unofficial start of summer!!! And with it comes the accompanying sense of freedom and whimsy that is akin to Christmas, but a lot more carefree.

Carefree is the word I'm  living by this weekend. Which is why I am not going to stress at the 14th Annual Keverly Cook-out/Softball Game/Soccer Match, unlike past years. My family and I have been invited ever since I was 13. And though they were always fun, my carefree levels were always tempered by the presence of the Keverly's oldest sons, Jackson and Tyler.

Why? Because let's just say that it took a few years for this little duckling to turn into a semi-gracious swan. I swear, when the artists at Pixar created the character of the dentist's niece in Finding Nemo, it was because someone had somehow rummaged through my family's photo album and used me as inspiration. No joke.

(Pardon any cook-out pun, but eating a hamburger was no picnic back in those days.)

With Sophomore Jackson and Senior Tyler surrounded by their entourage of equally cool and self-assured friends, I hated feeling like the mandatory tag-along, or charity case friend. And it's not like anyone ever said anything, but you kind of get the hint when you are the last person to be picked as a substitution for the softball game.

Well this year is different! This will be the first time since my Junior year of high school that Jackson, Tyler, and I will be at the cook-out. I have to say I'm pretty excited.

Maybe it's because my teeth are finally straight, or I learned how to do my hair. Or maybe it's because I am happy to reacquaint myself with old friends. Or maybe it's that I'm much more confident with who I am as a person at 27, than I was during my teen years.

But whatever the reason, I heard through the grapevine that the Keverly men have a sweet-tooth. Well have I got some sugar for you!

(And that's not a double-entente. Mrs. K called asking if I could bring a dessert, and I can make one killer trifle. Just ask the faculty members at my high school.) Hopefully the whipped-cream, berry and lady finger goodness will let me be on the actual playing team, and not substitutions this year. A girl can hope, right?

*If you want my recipe, I'd be happy to share. Just let me know!

Yoga Stresses Me Out

I do Yoga. Any work-out that has a required nap-time at the end is okay by me. Sign me up!

So when CH approached me (and everybody else who was in the teacher's lounge, but I like to think he may have glanced a second longer on me) about his roommate being a new yoga instructor, and needing people to come check the class out, I said, "Sure!"

I figured scouting out a new class might not be such a bad thing, despite my apprehensions.

Wait. What apprehensions?

Things to know about Elsie: I have some crazy, irrational stereotypes and prejudices when it comes to Yoga. And even though I know it makes me crazy, and they can be totally unfounded, they've yet to steer me wrong. Hence, The Yoga Rules.

1. If middle-aged and older man are attending the class, try and be as far away from them as possible. Men in shorts, spandex, and accompanying grunts and groans + "flexy" positions do NOT = Zen.
2. Unless the instructor is actually from India, don't take the class if the instructor is male. It's hard for me to focus on breathing when all I can keep thinking is, "Why are you teaching Yoga, and not doing a "manly" sport?" (I know. It is wrong. I chide myself just thinking it. But, it is what I think, every time). 
3. The level of crunchy-granolaness can be determined by the level of natural human odor at the start of class. The smellier, the crunchier. Pick up your mat and find peace/serenity/enlightenment elsewhere. It is much easier to listen to the nuances of the Universe when your nose isn't shrieking in pain and abuse.

It is because of these rules that once I find a Yoga class that fits the criteria, I never stray.

Except for today, much to my chagrin. I was preparing myself for the fact that I would be taught by a man. But there was no way I could prepare myself for what actually happened.

By the time I got to the Farmington Valley YMCA, it's 5:30 in the afternoon. I called ahead, and they said that a Yoga class would be starting at 5:45. Great!

I bounce into the studio, settle my mat, and before getting into breathing, decide to get a sip of water from the fountain in the hallway. Happily, I see CH. And then, the unhappiness ensues.

Me:"Hey, you ready to start?" (I gesture into the studio).
CH: "Oh man, thanks for coming! (Insert brilliant smile). But you missed the class. Chris's was the 4:45, not the 5:45. We just finished."
Me: (Trying to play it cool.) "Oh no worries. Sorry I couldn't meet your roommate, though. Hope he had a good turn-out for his first time."
CH: "Yeah, Chris was pretty happy with how it worked out. It looks like they're giving her a morning session starting next month."
Hold up. Did CH just say "her"?

Before I could fully wrap my head around that crushing little pronoun, a living, breathing, Pantene Pro-V commercial, complete with flowing blond hair, materialized before my eyes, and playfully tossed CH car keys, with an appropriately sexy, smooth voice asking, "Ready to go?"

This Amazon was Chris? Where was the crunchy, granola, wimpy Yoga instructor I had prepared myself for?

I had imagined this:

(EEEEEWWWWWW)

And instead got this:

(

(BAAAHHHHH!!)

And like a puppy eager for a treat, CH skipped (yes, skipped) after her without so much as giving me a second thought. I got a quick, "C-ya tomorrow, Else," (a nickname which I hate) and that was that.

As for the crunchy granola instructor of my mind? He was waiting inside the class, and as I planted my sith(?) bone into the mat, I noticed the gray-balding head of an overweight gentleman in front of me, and my nose sensed the overwhelming lack of deodorant infusing the entire essence of the room.

  Karma has a sense of humor, so it would seem.

Feeling Hot and Nerdy

I am not going to lie to you. I am 100% Nerd, and proud of it! (Which is why the fact that CH asked me out - sort of - Friday night all the more perplexing. Oh, and though I've seen him briefly these past two days, we haven't had time to talk. Maybe it's for the best...)

So back to nerddom.

My cousin sent me this link today:hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com
It. Is. AWESOME!!!

And it confirms my nerdiness because A) I agree with everything Allie has to say regarding grammar. People! The apostrophe is our friend! and B) I am always, in some small way, scouring the universe for ways to help my students understand the basic fundamentals of communication. This Blog post is like SchoolHouse Rock, version 2.0. Check out my favorite episode here. Wooooonderfuuuuulllll. (I am actually singing that word out loud).

Plus, you'll fall in love with the Alot. I promise.
Who wouldn't love this face?


The Alot's expression of near pain and awkward paralysis gets me laughing every time. But now it's got me thinking...have I ever made a man I was dating feel Alot of pain? Hmmm...Topic for next post: Crazy Single Girl Insecurities that Probably Ought Never Be Contemplated, But Will End Up Being Dissected To Death, Because She Is a Girl After All.

Reaching First Base

Sorry for not filling you guys in on my date with CH sooner! Prom didn't end until 12 on Friday night, and then we (chaperones) had to wait until all the kids left the building, did the bathroom/closet checks, so on and so on. By the time CH dropped me off at my apartment, it was 1:30 and, well, we talked (really, talking is ALL we did) outside my door for about another half-hour, so really, when all was said and done, I didn't crawl into bed until 3 a.m. and Saturday was a sleep-in/grade papers/enjoy the spring weather sort of day, which leads me to now.


So, okay. I decided to go with my black dress and red heels after all. It was too late in the game plan to make any switches, and besides, that dress really accentuates my best features - my waist and collar bones. CH was punctual, and luckily, by some miracle, I was actually ready on time, too. (Perhaps some unconscious sense of gym teachers running drills like German Clock Work or something...). At any rate, when I answer the door, my knees almost buckle with the shock at seeing CH in something besides a polo shirt, whistle, and khaki shorts. If I were a random woman meeting him for the first time ever, I would be beyond pleased. In a simple gray suit, blue button-down dress shirt, and yellow/gold tie, he was all sorts of yummy. And you know something? For the first time I noticed the color of his eyes: hazel-green. And he has a shy smirk, which I discovered right after he complimented me on my outfit. Nothing eloquent here. "Nice dress" is far from Shakespeare, but it worked.

I was still slightly nervous while he walked me to the car (some black sports car that I think Subaru makes),even though pleasantly surprised with how well he could clean-up. A) I couldn't get into full "date" mode because I wasn't sure if this was just a colleague thing, doing something practical and B) Even though he was good eye-candy, we couldn't just stare at each other like cows chomping on our dinners at Ruby Tuesdays. And though "nice dress" made me blush, it wasn't promising by way of scintillating conversation.

Never fear, folks! My supremely honed-in skill to ruin a moment/embarrass myself quickly broke the tension once I sat in the car...and ON MY CORSAGE!

Yeah, can you believe it? He bought me a corsage. Cute!

Well, when I say I sat on my corsage, what I am really doing is lying for the more embarrassing thing that happened instead. Noticing that my derrière was about to obliterate the lovely red rose wrist display, he reaches to pull the box from under me. So the box gets pushed out just in time with his left hand, but right hand gets pinned. And with the seats lower than I calculated (WHY do you design them so low, Subaru?!), I plopped down into it with an UNlady-like thud, rather than the grace I was so desperately hoping for.

He yells, "Ow!"at the same time I shriek, "Ack!" He gently lifts me off his hand, and curls his right hand fingers in and out, in and out a few times while I apologize profusely.

In the movies, we would look at each other, laugh, then both know that this completely embarrassing start would let each of us secretly know that "he" or "she" is the one, while he says something charming to diffuse the situation, and I do some sweet gesture to show off my naive yet alluring femininity. But this is real life.

What actually happened was a few seconds stretched into an awkward eternity of looking anywhere but at each other. CH shoved the corsage box onto my lap, saying how his sister told him to do it, and my butt is a lot firmer than it looks. Ummm, thanks?

So yes, after that start, silence at Ruby Tuesdays wasn't sounding so bad. We managed through dinner okay. When in doubt, talk about administration and trouble-maker students as common bonding. It never fails. Plus, being a coach, he needed a game plan for the night's chaperoning duties. A good deal of time was spent on that, not to mention paper napkins with x's swerving around o's with what was presumably the dance field, er, I mean floor.

The Prom was actually fun.And by the time it was over, and he dropped me off at home, we were laughing and talking about things outside of school. Not much, mind you. But the sort of stuff we should have talked about at Ruby Tuesdays. Where'd you grow-up, go to college, etc.

Will there be a date number 2? I wouldn't count on it. He's right handed, and I don't think he wants to risk injury to his throwing arm again. But will there be smiles? Yeah, I think so. And with that delicious little smirk, with a teeny little dimple on the right cheek, I could have a lot worse being thrown at me while on cafe duty. :)

Always a Chaperone, Never a Bride

I am EXHAUSTED!

It has been such a long day - school, department meeting, manicure, prom committee last-minuteness...And as if that schedule wouldn't have me begging for bed, the added stress of going on a date with Coach Hines has been swirling through my mind all day! Things got so bad, that I purposefully took the longer way around the school to get from my 3rd period to 4th period class, just so I wouldn't have to pass by the gym on the off chance that I might see him. That adds an extra 2 minutes. I timed it.

What was I thinking yesterday?!

Chaperoning this prom was already giving me extra anxiety. It's my first prom since high school, and though it isn't MY prom, I am still expected to be a part of it. I have to dress the part, act the part, blah, blah,blah...Kind of like being in a wedding party. It's fun and exciting, but as bridesmaid you know it's not about you. The attention (rightly so) is on the happy couple. But you still end up with a massive amount of hair, pictures, make-up, and everything else that needs to complete the look of somebody else's dream day...not to mention all the cash that goes into it.

So that was my mindset for tomorrow night. It had been since I was told in December that I was assigned chaperoning duties. I needed to pull-off "bridesmaid." Got it. No problem. Can do.

I planned on wearing something similar to the dress at the top of the post.You know, cute and formal, yet teacher appropriate. I was going to dress it up with some jewelry and a killer pair of red heels.

But now! But now. Is it too dowdy or too much for a date? I want to appear fun and sweet, but I also have to be professional. Would a lighter floral print be better? Will I have the time to find one?!

AND!! I just realized we will be driving in. One. CAR! So what message are we sending to the student body? Are we dating? Is that even allowed? Do I want it to be allowed? What if the night completely sucks and I don't want to spend another second with CH, let alone let him drive me back home at the end of the night? OR WORSE. What if we actually find some smidgen of chemistry and the whole prom atmosphere brings on major nostalgia and at the end of the night, when he drives me home...you know where I am going with this. We are supposed to watch and make sure the kids don't get knocked-up. Who will be watching out for me?!

No, no. Don't get the wrong idea. I am NOT that sort of girl. But you have to admit there is way more than the usual first date stress happening here. I have a professional image to uphold, too. But I also need to let him see the non-teacher Elsie. Urgh.

One thing is for sure. I definitely plan to eat happily at Ruby Tuesdays, AND order dessert. As part of the planning committee, I know what the refreshments are and I can definitely pass on those!

Did Coach Hines Just Ask Me Out?

Okay, so for any of you who know that MAD TV skit, Coach Hines is possibly the best character they ever created. He is the quintessential, stereotypical high school gym teacher and he rings true because, well, every high school in America has a version of him in some way, shape, or form.

Well, the high school I teach at is no exception. We've got a Coach Hines instilling the fear of God in our student body as well. But I've never actually spoken with him. What does a former Division I (or is it II) Lacrosse Champion, wrestling enthusiast, and GNC card carrying member have in common with me? A Jane Austen admirer, grammar enthusiast, and a Borders card-holding A.P. English teacher?

It's both our turns to chaperone the Sr. Prom this weekend, that's what.

At any rate, I am not sure how Coach Hines (no real names here)knew that I wasn't bringing a date. He probably figured that chaperoning a bunch of hormonal eighteen year olds is as lame a first, or even fifteenth, date idea as I did, and assumed I have the good sense of not bring a non-educator into the fray. Or maybe he just decided to take a chance. Whatever the reason, the actual asking was so low-key yet excruciatingly awkward that I had no idea that he was asking me out until we had set a time and meeting place, with no chance for me to back out.

Here's how our conversation went this morning, 3rd period, ver batim:
CH: *Knock at the door*
ME: Come in. (I was passing out my students' 19th century American Poetry exams, and couldn't get to the door as I was in the middle of the room).
CH: Sorry to interrupt, Elsie, er, I mean, Ms. Lastname. I didn't realize you were teaching this period.
ME: That's okay. Can I help you with anything?
CH: Yes. No. Well... (Two of my athlete students started snickering in the back). You got something to say, Belanger?
Belanger: No, Coach.
ME: Everyone, eyes on your own paper and no talking. (Turning my attention back to CH). You were saying, Coach?
CH: Yeah, this can wait. When's your free period?
ME: Oh, okay. Well, it's usually 6th period but I have a couple of errands that I need to run that I just won't get to after school, so was really hoping...
CH: (A little crest-fallen) Oh, sure, yeah. I get it. No big deal. No worries.
ME: But if it's important, I can step outside a second.
(He nodded and I followed him just outside my classroom door, giving my students the eye of death, should they even contemplate cheating).
CH: So Friday's the prom, and I have to be there and you gotta be there, so let's both be there.
ME: (In my head, I said, "Um, yeah, the law of physics dictates that we'll both be there." I decided to be polite instead). If you're worried that I'll back out and leave you with the responsibility alone, don't worry. I wouldn't be that cruel.
CH: No! No, that's not what I meant. What I mean is...we gotta eat, right? And then make sure these punks don't get knocked-up or anything.
ME: Riiiiight. I'm sorry, can you just -
CH: So I think Ruby Tuesdays is a good place for it.
ME: (Thinking "Getting knocked-up?")
CH:You can choose what you like and I get what I like. Then we'll head over to the school together.
ME: Yeah, I like Ruby Tuesdays.
CH: Good. Pick you up at 5. See you Friday.
Me: O-o-okay.

Then he spotted an 11th grader who's always causing some trouble, wandering around the hall, probably without a hall pass, and bounded towards the kid like a bounty hunter with a vengeance. I walked back into my classroom, where all the eyes were on me. I quickly deflected the attention by reminding them they only had 40 minutes to complete the test, or take a zero.

So yeah. I suddenly have a date, and I am not even sure how I feel about it. I'm not even sure HE's sure.He's attractive, and dresses a lot better than the MAD TV Coach Hines, but... All that keeps coming to mind is this Coach Hines skit, and a prayer that we can find SOMETHING to talk about while at Ruby Tuesdays. Yikes!

If Loving You's Wrong, then Baby...

We all know how that line ends, so I'll spare you.
(Awkward, nervous giggle. Pushing my hair back from my eyes, in what is hopefully a cute, flirtatious, yet not overtly-sexy gesture. I bat my eyes a beat or two...) We've all been there, too. The first date. Or - gasp! - the first blind date. The nerves, the anticipation, this ridiculously unfounded sense of all fate and happiness resting on this one evening of drinks and banter - you get what I'm saying. Why do we subject ourselves to it?

For the same reason I probably am subjecting myself to the same nerves, anticipation, giddiness, fear of rejection, etc., etc., that I am now doing with this very public blog - the need to connect, and the blissfully optimistic hope that, yes!, there will be at least one special someone who will one day say, "You know what? I like you. Want to do this again, and again, and again for as long as we both have agains and agains?"

Now, before you think I am a desperate cat lady who has locked herself into the old Victorian house that has been surrounded by rumors of hauntings and paranormal activities, or am a bitter fem-nazi who secretly resents the fact she has never been on a date and therefore crushes all men under her iron fist at the top of the career ladder, or am suffering from low self-esteem and am plagued with a billion doubts, I can assure you I am not. No, truly!

If you were to ask me, "Are you happy?" I could honestly and resolutely say, "Yes." And it wouldn't be fake chin-up resilience either. So that's enough out of you skeptics. There is nothing to be unhappy or unsatisfied with. I love teaching English, I love my friends, I love my family, I love my life! Period. Finito.

Except for one little thing:

Hi. My name is Elsie. And I'm an unapologetic Romantic. And this blog will chronicle my quest for true love, happily ever after, and a man who will cook me dinner and clean the mess he made cooking it. Snicker, scoff, sneer. I don't care. I'm in love with Love, and am ready for Love to love me back!

Simply Chic Blogs

Just wanted to say "thanks" for your great design work. You have captured my sensibilities perfectly! If you fellow romantics out there want lovely, free, and yes, chic backgrounds, go to www.simplychicblogs.blogspot.com. It'll set your heart a flutter.