Lover's List and Oprah

Okay, before anyone freaks out, I do NOT have a secret fantasy with Oprah (unless it's of me and my bestie in the audience of her yearly famous "Favorite Things" Episode).

I actually have a rather love-hate relationship with her. Love her "Favorite Things" and other fun episodes. Like that she puts out a lot of good in the world. Really dislike how self-absorbed she is becoming. Don't believe me? Then why does every issue of O Magazine have her on the cover?

 Yeah, Oprah. We already know you are ay-may-zing. Leave us alone a minute, k?

Anyway, as I said, Love-Hate. Tonight was a Love, when I stumbled upon this article in her October 2008 issue.

The idea of making a list of my perfect mate's qualities I find intriguing. Clearly, my current method of leaving it up to Serendipity isn't working. I mean, Fate can't do everything by herself. It couldn't hurt to giver her some pointers, right?

The article calls for 100. I think I would die first before that list is complete. But I can start with 5. And, if, by the end of this year I even go on a date with someone who meets half those qualities, I'll bump it up another 5.

Do we have a deal, Fate? Okay!

Elsie's List of True Love, complete with illustrations:

 1) Likes to learn and can carry intelligent conversation.

2) Enjoys family, but isn't a Mamma's boy. Not dealing with a Marco again.

3)  Isn't psychotic. (Learned that on Keeping Up with the Kardashians)

4)  Has an upward moving career, or is in a grad program leading to a career. Like Don Draper, only minus the infidelity and smoking.
5) Enjoys culture, but also likes sports (NOT a Red Sox fan)

 Combine the artistic sensibilities above with the athletic know-how below

Bad Thing Happen When You Go to the Gym

A few years ago there was this ad campaign in NYC with the slogan:
Bad Things Happen when you Leave the City.

Really striking images, like a tornado about to obliterate a lone farmhouse, fed into the the firm belief that we (cosmopolitan sorts from any city, even if we now live in the burbs) should have a healthy fear of Nature and all her powerful glory.

(You'll recall that Dorothy didn't say, "I don't think we're in Manhattan anymore, Toto.")

So I hope the creators of this original campaign grant me some creative license, and are flattered by my twist on things.

Bad Things Happen When You Go to the Gym. 

My bestie has been telling me this for years, each time after one embarrassing incident after another. I mean, we saw what happened with my Yoga disappointment and CH and Bendy Barbie. You would think I would learn. But noooo. I get suckered in each and every time.

And that's when my life tornado hits. Completely out of the blue, and I am left reeling.

I am a teacher. Mid-semester I was approached by our local community college to teach a Comp  course for Freshman. Reason being, they are in partnership with our school,  which means our seniors can leave school a period early and head to the college for English class (and gain college credit). Yay! I was so honored and excited to be chosen! This all starts in  their Spring semester, so for the time being I am acting as a supplemental instructor to one of the profs. as way of learning the college ropes.

And of course, there are a couple of cute boys in the class. Nothing creepy weird here! They are young. Way too young. They are like little guppies.

But they have this sense of freedom that accompanies their new college status, so they feel it's fun to flirt with me. I don't respond (inappropriate). But it's funny and slightly flattering, never the less.

Here is where the perfect storm cell develops.

Yesterday I began my period (ouch and yuck). Grading has been monstrous. It was so tempting to go home and sleep. But that is no longer an option. Suddenly over the past year, cellulite has speckled my upper thigh in places I didn't even know could carry fat deposits. So like a trooper, I decided to work out. No Zumba, because it would have been too exhausting. Instead, I felt a nice walk/jog on the treadmill could do it.

Because of my red cycle, I put on the frumpiest sweats I had. They are comfy!

(Sassy? Naughty? Nope, the only thing my bottom was saying last night was tired and saggy).

So while I'm huffing it on the treadmill, a young, cute bunny hops on to the machine next to me. I am hit with a surge of jealously, but am too tired to let it feed my warped sense of competition.

 After 20 minutes I go to the magazine rack and think, "Hmmm, maybe I can indulge in celebrity gossip and do the bike." 

All of the sudden I hear, "Nooooo. Professor Lastname, is that you?"

I turn in slow motion to my right, and see my very tall, very fit, cute, and very good A student from the college smirking at me. I feel frumpy, fat, and completely taken off guard. What is he doing here? Doesn't he know he can't see me in my personal life? Not fair! 

My response was less than charming. All I could say was, "I gotta go. I gotta go." I catch a glimpse of my face in the mirror and I am bright pink (matching my sweats).

He - at the oh-so- mature age of 19 - had to console me! "It's okay Ms. Lastname. We're all here working out. I am as bad as you." 

In my head I am thinking, No. You actually worked out. I merely took a leisurely stroll on the treadmill. But it was an incline. Inclines count for something, right?!

We say "bye" and then as I head out, I notice that cute, sprinty, perky bunny who was on the machine next to mine hugs him. She is his girlfriend. Perfect.

I wonder how things will be Monday. I must apologize for treating him so rudely, and make sure he doesn't feel bad. But lesson learned. The next time I want to work out, I'll just pop in a DVD at home and let Jillian Michaels shred me up in the comfort and privacy of my own living room.

The Greatest Generation

Tom Brokaw had it right when he said the men and women from the 1930s and 1940s are America's greatest generation. Guys were brave, and funny, and smart, and knew how to make a woman feel special. This isn't just Hollywood nostalgia talking. I have proof!

(I would go limp too, if some hot sailor planted me a Victory smacker. Free from the forces of evil and indulging in celebratory passion? Never let it be said I don't take my patriotic duty seriously!)

As a guest speaker for my 4th period class today, I invited one of our local veterans from the American Legion to come and talk about his experiences in World War II, and the atmosphere of the United States during that time. All educational.

When he was done, I signaled for the class to applaud, and then I thanked Mr. Spano for his service to the country and willingenss to share it with my class. Just as he was about to leave the door, he turns to the students and says, "I wish I had teachers like her when I was in high school. I know I would have gotten better grades because with a figure like hers, who wouldn't want to pay attention?"

My mouth dropped, and some of my male students snickered. My female students did the "Awww, isn't the old man cute?" face. I had to quickly take things at hand, though at some level I was flattered.

"Thank you, Mr. Spano. I can assure you my students do well for themselves. Have a great day!" I said that last part overly spritely, as I practically shoved him out the classroom door, making sure he felt appreciated.

And then you know what he said? It was embarrassing, but really sweet all rolled up into one. "You're a looker, and you're a lady, too. That's what we fought for, and it was all worth it." Then he winked and sauntered - yes, sauntered - down the hallway.

It took me 5 minutes to get my class back on track. That battle, as always, was tough. But thanks to Mr. Spano's visit and his delightfully wicked flirting, it was all worth it ;)