Sigh

I want to do my taxes. I like doing my taxes. I suspect Mr. Monkey and I might owe money this year, but still. I want to do them and now what I owe.

I'm ready to do my taxes. I bought my Turbo Tax. I have a handy little folder to organize things. I have the necessary tools.

The only thing I am missing...all three (hmm, how did that happen?) of my W-2s. Grrr. They better get here soon. I want to be a responsible citizen dammit.

Teacher monkey

So, I'm a teacher now...or at least I pretend I am every Wednesday night from 5:10-7:50pm. I'm teaching my first ever college level class ( a 200 level critical thinking class) and so far it seems like it is going mostly okay. Most of the class came back for the second week, so thats a positive sign. Some of the students even seem to think I am somewhat funny and interesting but some of them just stare into space and seem not to notice me. A few seem confused when I joke around and appear to take notes in all the wrong places in the lecture. This concerns me a bit.

It is interesting being in the front of the classroom. It is amazing how un-subtle people are about falling asleep, talking, doodling, scratching their balls (I'm thinking, of course, of one student in particular who sits right in the front and is an especially itchy human being). I'm reminded of how clever I thought I was when I was in college and would wear a baseball cap to class when I was sleepy...as though that would make me invisible to my professors. Heh. Probably not.

Even though we're only two weeks in, I've already identified the teacher's pet (she offered to carry my bag and supplies to my office after class and keeps telling me how good a job I'm doing. I love her), the class weirdo (ball scratcher) and the suspected slackers (a table of 4 guys who are trying to out cool each other and put forth the barest of minimums on the few assignments we've done). I'm curious to see how many of the students last the whole semester. I'm curious to see if I'll do a good job. I hope I do, but I'm not really sure how to measure myself. I think getting teacher evaluations will scare me a bit. We'll see.

Monkey sadness

I was watching TV tonight, reveling in the mind numbing powers of a good soapy drama (yep, it is Grey's Anatomy night) when I saw a heart breaking commercial.

The commercial opened promisingly enough: a shot of a monkey in a pink dress picking its nose. Hee. Nothing funnier than that. The monkey continued to put its finger in its nose and then smile at the camera. I continued to laugh and delight, as I always do during monkey commercials. Then, it happened.

The screen went to white and the tag line said "Monkeys are hard to work with...and we're not going to do it anymore." The commercial was for careerbuilder.com, the genius folks who have had an on-going series of monkey centric ads. These ads, as one might expect, are my favorite. Yes, I know having a favorite ad is a shallow, bad, consumerist, blah, blah, blah thing...but c'mon...monkeys...in suits...dancing...my heart is not made of stone, people.

So it looks like they are dropping the monkeys and I must protest. What is funnier than monkeys? Goldfish-no, panda bears- cute but no, turtles-slow and no. Nothing is funnier than monkeys. Why would they want to stop being funny?

I don't understand the world sometimes.

Best Sale Ever

I went to the grocery store on Sunday and discovered the following sale:

Buy 6 Lean Cuisine frozen meals and get a half gallon of ice cream free.

I love it. Get some nice low cal frozen lunches and a big old container of cookies and cream ice cream to go with it.

I, of course, took advantage of the sale. I had to. I had a coupon for the Lean Cuisines. I can't refuse a bargain.

Home alone

My sweetie has left me for the day/night (and taken the step-monkeys with him) and I am home alone. I'm almost never home alone any more, at least not at night and not for hours and hours. The house feels quiet and I'm finding myself spooking easily and pushing open the blinds to check every strange noise. I feel a little lonely and I can't help but think about what my life was like when I was always alone.

Before I met Mr. Monkey (thanks again to Rie and the Abstract Gecko for making that happen) I lived by myself in a series of crappy apartments in sometimes questionable complexes. I didn't miss having roommates, though I had loved my college roommates. I felt like living alone was an important thing to do, a necessary step in becoming a grown up. There were things I took real pleasure in during those years. I liked decorating for myself and watching whatever crappy TV show I wanted to. I really liked not having to clean up after any one but myself. My last crappy apartment was a little studio that I could, quite literally, clean from top to bottom in less than two hours. I slept in the middle of my queen sized bed and I never, ever made the bed in the morning. It was my space, completely.

I'll always be glad I lived by myself but the years that I was alone were, in many ways, a really tough time for me. I was lonely a lot and I was pretty thoroughly convinced I'd never meet someone who would love me. I felt fundamentally unworthy and I really didn't think I'd ever get married. I had a pretty serious eating disorder that living alone allowed me the privacy to get really, really dangerous with. I had a self-destructive streak that would, I think, surprise most people who know me now. It surprises me sometimes when I think about it. When I think about the years from about 20-25, I feel grief for that version of myself. I wish I could have known that things would get better, that I would get better (therapy can be a very, very good thing) and would, in time, meet the love of my life. I wish I had liked myself as much back then as I do now. I wish that I had trusted that other people would like me to.

There are days when I still don't feel comfortable in my own skin. There are days when I still think all of my problems or frustrations would be solved by being skinny. Sometimes I still worry that I'll be found out-that everyone who likes me will suddenly come to their senses and stop thinking I'm funny or nice or whatever they think I am. But those are just the bad days and not everyday and for that I am grateful. Tonight, though, as I sit in my house alone I can't help put think of all of the other Saturday nights I spent alone. I don't know that I've really made peace with that time yet.

My husband won't be home until late tonight, long after I've gone to bed. I suspect he'll find me sleeping in the middle of our queen size bed. He'll probably push me over and then, hopefully, curl next to me with his arm around my waist. We'll sleep curved like kidney beans and I know I'll be the last one to wake up tomorrow morning. The house will probably smell like sausage and toast and Mr. Monkey and the younger monkey son will be fighting about the merits of watching football versus Sponge Bob on TV. This is a normal Sunday morning. This is the life I wished for back in those crappy apartments. I know I won't be lonely in the morning but a part of me wants to hold on to what I'm feeling tonight. I guess that's why I'm writing tonight. I want to remember that sometimes the past isn't quiet or distant.

My resolutions

I think I must be an optimist. Every year I make New Years Resolutions and every year I break them and then the very next year I make them again. For a long time I made and broke the same resolutions over and over (lose weight, exercise more, get out of debt) but not this year. No sir. I am making brand new, totally attainable resolutions. I'm not aiming to do anything life changing or inspiring or impressive. Nope. I'm making piddly small baby resolutions that no one will notice but me.

1. Finish bottle of vitamins.
I've never been good about remembering to take vitamins and I've thrown away more bottles of expired vitamins than I'd like to admit. But no longer! New leaf being turned over here. I bought a bottle of women's one a day about six months ago that had 100 vitamins in it. I'm giving myself a year to finish it. I'm no math major but I think I can through 100 in a year.

2. Eat better chocolate.
I've come to terms with the fact that I have a massive sweet tooth and I've embraced the fact that I will never give up eating chocolate. Never ever ever. I have decided, however, to stop eating crappy chocolate. It cheapens the chocolate experience and doesn't really satisfy the chocolate urge. So, no more shall a piece of Palmer's chocolate or chocolate that has started to get crumbly pass these lips. Cadbury:yes. Ghiradelli:yes. Godiva: oh hell yes. Hershey's: maybe, if it is dark and fresh.

3. Get up the courage to tell Mr. Monkey's boys that I love them.
I'm afraid they'll think I'm weird or won't say it back. Clearly some bucking up on my part is required.

4. Go dancing with Mr. Monkey
We dance a lot in our house. A lot, especially when Law and Order is on and we can groove to the theme song. We've danced at weddings but we've never gone out dancing. I wanna dance*

Any one else have any resolutions?



*and all the old school Whitney Houston fans added "with some body who loves me".

Nose, meet grindstone

Sigh. So, back to work tomorrow. Now, don't get me wrong....I like my job. Its a good job and I'm glad to have it but after an all too brief holiday break I'm not quite ready to go back.

I had such grand intentions for this break. I was going to hike and shop and organize (oh how I love a good organize) and spend fun time with the husband and with friends. I was also going to finish my syllabus for a class I'm teaching this spring (yup, I'm teaching. How scary is that?). I was going to be a whirl wind of productivity and good holiday cheer. Instead, I got a head cold and spent most of the week riding the couch, being clingy, needy and whiny. I went as far as to force Mr. Monkey to bring me juice and keep me company in the living room while I watched many, many episodes of A Baby Story on TLC. He's a very patient man, that Mr. Monkey.

I finally started feeling better by the end of the week, so I got a little fun time with friends (Kelly and I saw "The Queen"...two thumbs up) and even managed to do just enough shopping to find a new pair of jeans but I still feel cheated. I want more time. I don't want to have to get up and get going while it is still dark out.

I should go be an adult and put myself to bed early. Boo.