In an instance

In an instance, my cell phone went blank yesterday. As in won't-turn-on, can't-get-any-numbers, doneski. In more than an instance, I was the proud owner of a new Blackberry phone with no one to call.
In an instance today, I received a large cheeck in the mail I hadn't expected (maybe only one of the benefits of selling a house?).

Often times I fear things that can happen in an instance, things that can forever change a person's life. Many teachers at my school give a similar speech to mine before prom weekend: "don't do something for 30 seconds that could change your life forever". Sadly, many things fit into this category. However, in the last couple of weeks, I've been reminded how things in an instance can be positive, too. Like an unexpected check, phone call from a friend, smile from a baby, or e-mail from a student just to let me know she verbally committedto a college.

I have this topic on the brain because recently Joe and I made the toughest decision of our married life. Someone looking in at us, may think that some of our other decisions would have been tougher (getting married, buying a house, etc). However, I know that for me, this recent deicision was especially tough because I couldn't make it in an instance. I have friends that spend months, even years making decisions. Some of them even make spreadsheets and interview a whole gament of people to make sure they get it right. Me? I make a decision and go with it. But not this time. I had to use logic. I couldn't use my an instance, emotional gut response. I bought a house (two in fact) on that, why wouldn't this work for this? Even Joe commented that this was so hard because "I usually count on you, Stac, to tell us what to do." Now I feel confident we made the right decision (but time will only tell, right? Isn't that how it always goes?), but it really got me down. So these positive "in an instance" situations put a little faith back into my decision making skills. Put a little trust back into who I am and how I make decisions.

Someone Should've Told Me

I'm not sure if no one every told me or if I just didn't listen, but getting old (even in your late twenties) sucks. You see, I've been faced with a very important decision lately: continue to wear cute, trendy shoes that make my foot swollen or spend the money on seemingly not cute or trendy orthopedic shoes that don't make my foot swollen. For those of you that know my love for shoes, you understand why this is such a difficult decision.
I've never been good with just two choices. Usually I think outside of the box and come up with some alternatives. I could do what my doctor said, which was "sit down more at work. Why couldn't you?". Clearly, doc has never spent a day in the feet of a teacher. I asked husband Joe to check with our insurance policy to see if it would cover a new foot. Seems viable, right? So as I trot from store to store in search of the perfect cute-but-support-please-don't-make-my-foot-swollen shoe, I curse the older women that let me buy the cute, cheap shoes so long ago. And I think about what I'd say to the twenty-something girls in my life. It'd go something like " heed this advice: you will get older. You will get medical problems. And, well, someone told you so."

Know Your Audience

During the past two weekends I have found myself in the company of a mixture of friends and people I have never met. And on both occasions, I have encountered dumb men. The first guy, around a campfire of both women and men (although more women than men, and the men that were there were with the women), pronounced that all women are liars because they put on make up and disguise themselves behind clothes and other superficial items. The second guy, around a table of men and women (although in this situation, more men were present), announced that women are dumb. This was in response to my inquiry about how he could possibly be dating five different women at one time.

Now, I'm not writing this entry to defend my gender, because in all reality, yes, some women are dumb. And, sure, some women are liars. In fact, I'm sure I was a dumb girl at one time when it came to dating and I know I've lied to myself once or twice--especially when buying a pair of jeans a size smaller than I know I should be purchasing. But here is my thing, my issue: know your audience. In both circumstances I was with strong, talented, smart, and beautiful women. All who, I think, would rather been known for the first three adjectives than the last one; at least I know I would. Clearly, these guys didn't know their audience. With the second situation, before the words: "Excuse me! I'm a happily married women! I have a masters degree! I teach AP Composition! I'm an adjunct professor at a respected University! I'm published!" came screeching out of my mouth, my husband and his friend interjected "do you know who you are talking to?". Right. That's my point--know your audience. My husband and his friend (who is with girlfriend), clearly know their audiences. Perhaps that is they are no longer single. So just a little tip to the single guy looking for a girl: know your audience. . . always.

What are you going to do?

It's been five days since the school year ended, and I've already been asked countless times (by friends, family, students and strangers) "what are you going to do all summer?". My response has been: whatever I want. However, let me expand here.

I'm going to. ..
wake up whenever I want to and stay in my pj's for as long as I want. Stay up late to watch movies and devour books like my mom's chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven (and maybe work on writing more authentic similes). Eat whenever I want, use the bathroom whenever I need to (not when a bell rings), and check my e-mail how ever often I want. Lay in my hammock, in my bathing suit, as often as possible. Attend happy hours: at noon, four or nine o'clock. Fish. Or at least be in the boat. Walk, bike, run, rollerblade, drive or skip to various locations. Plop down in a chair at B&N, hope not to fall asleep, and browse through deocrating books. Think about what I can do better next year to reach more students. Take my niece swimming and lay for hours on the floor watching my nephew roll himself over.
Visit my out-of-state nieces and family members. Walk around Ridgedale, try on clothes, and not buy anything--for hours. Enjoy random happenings and then blog about them.
Allow someone with little kids and a huge cartful of groceries to go in front of me and say, "It's okay, really, I have the time."

So the point is, I don't have a plan for the summer. And I don't have to.