Momentary Lapse of Reason

Proof positive that my parents did, in fact, spend seventeen years of their life together was their identical response to the "Hey, so, Jim and I are thinking about getting a dog" comment.

They each said, in almost the same tone and inflection, "You guys need a dog like you need a hole in your head."

So, ladies and gentlemen, The Hole in My Head:

Aw.

How could a girl resist?

Dakota is a mix between a Labrador Retriever and German Shepherd. We are potty training like CRAZY.

For the record, I'd like to state publicly that there's not a lot of dignity in cheering and clapping and oohing and aahing and carrying on like she's just won the Nobel prize every time she pees or poops outside.

I do, however, do just that. And while I'm doing it, I'm vehemently hoping the neighbors aren't watching.

Finals

I love giving final exams. I honestly enjoy watching the students write them. I'm filled with goodwill and cheer when they sit in their desks and earnestly write their essays for two hours.

Sometimes they even write me little notes at the end of them:

"Ms. T--u r bomb as hell."

"Tholie-pop--i'm gonna miss u!"

And my personal favorite:

"Your [sic] the best English teacher ever!"

Sometimes the painful irony of these messages kills the goodwill and destroys the cheer.

But not this year. This year I'm all BFF and sunshine, hearts, stars, and lollipops with the children.

Thirty four more minutes, friends. Thirty. Four. Minutes.