Surgery.

Isabelly had her surgery.  

I took her in Thursday morning.

I got to pick her up at 4pm on Friday. 

It was difficult not having her.

I got to visit her though.

She was on a morphine drip for pain.

She was not out of it enough to lift up her front paw which is her signaling she wants her belly rubbed.

Diagnosis: Left ACL rupture and medial patella luxation from trauma (note the blog entitled 'You Gotta be Effn' Me).

Surgery: Wedge Trochleoplasty with Lateral Ligament Imbrication.

She's got a cast and staples in her leg.

$1,400 later, she posed for us for Halloweeeeeener:

She is in GOOD spirits....drugs....

Her little cast.  Her Dr. wrote 'Princess Bella" on it.

They all just love her at the Vet.

Happy Halloweeeener. 

I hate this holiday.

Tarantula.

Story time:

It was about 2:30 in the afternoon and it began to rain. 
Right in time for dismissal.

My cooperating teacher had bus duty. 

Rainy-day dismissal had been called.

It was decided that I would stay inside wtith the class while she went out in the rain.

Bless her heart. 

But the feelings were mutual by the end of the day.

All of the students were sitting on their desks waiting for their bus or name to be called over the intercom. 

We were playing quite ball. 

I fail at quite ball.

Out of nowhere, literally nowhere...silent ball...

A student screamed, "A SPIDER!"

I, along with the 20 other students crowded around the desk. 

I got in front and calmed the masses. 

I looked down and didn't see anything. 

Then, it moved.

A friggen tarantula inside the classroom.

I didn't know what to do.

I was looking for a container to capture it in.

I couldn't find one.

I decided to take of my shoes, my favorite leopard print shoes.

I scooped the darn thing up in my shoes and began to scurry down the hallway towards the door that led to freedom for this tarantula.

Maybe that's translated as selflessness?

You know, not killing the darn thing and all...

So, as I am running down the hallway,barefoot, carrying my shoes in my hand, I looked back to notice something:

My entire class was following me. 

Parents were in the school.

I saw the PE teacher and ran to him.

In panic, I told him that there was a tarantula in my shoes.

I asked him to take it outside because I couldn't leave my students!

So he did.

End of story...Not so much...

One particular student's parents were in the room and witnessed this entire ordeal.

I was so embarrassed when they both came in for their parent/teacher conference today.

You see, I cannot remember what I said. 

I might have screamed.

I might have cursed.

I have no idea.

Embarrassed, the incident was brought up.

They said that I handled it very well.

I didn't scream.

I didn't curse. 

I just got rid of the darn thing and went back to my job.

Vindicated?  Relieved? Just satisfied that I am not out of control when a trantula is in my classroom?

Yes.

My cooperating teacher says that I passed my test. 

Win.

Now I just have to pass the AEPA on November 20th and I will, apparently, work for Obama.

And just a side note:

I am not scared of spiders, really.

It was just a shock.

Really.

I swear.

I mean, I didn't freak out! 

Friggen tarantulas, stay out of schoolz.

You Gotta Be Effin' Me

First off, if you're going to be offended by profanity, stop reading now.

Ok, you've been warned.

I woke up this morning full of intent to: grade papers, plan my health unit, get my oil changed, and get my 'winter' clothes out of storage.

I woke up, showered, and was talking on the phone to April when it hit me:

I was gonna puke.

I ran to the bathroom, April still on the phone, opened the toilet and had a more incredible urge to barf.

Steven left me a little surprise in the toilet.

Yes, I barfed on my husband's shit.

Thank heavens, I wasn't really sick or anything. 

I got ready and left.

I locked myself out of my apartment without keys (to open the door and/or to my car)

And I forgot Steven's lunch.

I drove to the storage unit and forgot the combination to the effing lock.

So I drove up to Steven's work to get my oil changed.

I got my oil changed.

While my car was up on the...um...lifter thingy, they checked my tires.

I had an effing nail in my tire.

My tires might be 4 months old.

The nail was not in a good place. 

Blake, a trusted friend, was too scared to take it out.

I drove to Big-O tires and actually had some good luck. 

Jeff Anderson fixed it all and didn't charge me

But it took an hour.

Then, on the way home, some old-fart dumb-ass decided to turn.

He had no brake lights or turn signal.

I hit my breaks so flippin hard that they locked up.

I didn't hit the dumb-ass.

But Bella, who was laying in the passenger seat flew forward.

She screamed hystarically.

Her left, back leg was not 'working'.

I felt incredibly impressed to take her to the vet.

Turns out (after 2 hours) that her ligament that holds her patella in place was torn.

Her patella was just floating around. 

She has a cast on now.

She will have this for at least a week.

I have to sedate her daily so she doesn't get hyper.

All because some dumb-ass didn't use a turn signal.

Thanks, you effing bastard.

To make it worse, I had not eaten all day.

And my phone died.

I also got electrocuted trying to unplug my phone charger.

Anything else want to get effed?

suck it.

Babies.

No.

I am not having a baby (yet). 

I would really like one though. 

But my sister-in-law is having a baby girl in December. 

My closest friend ever, Mollie, will be finding out the gender of her fetus shortly.

Maybe my sister, Emily, will get to work on number 3 soon.

I came across a picture on Facebook the other day.

It was on a friend's page. 

I have known this 'friend' since 6th grade at Granite Mountain.

I always admired her for her name, creativity, and her amazing legs. (I don't believe she ever knew that).

Middle School and High School came and went and we are all now grownd ups.

We never spoke much.

But here I am, posting this about Adria Smith.

She made these:

And I plan on getting anyone and everyone I know a pair for their new babes.

She would love some business.

She is selling them for $20 bucks.
She can make some that are masculine also, for those baby boys out there.

She will do what ever colors you'd like, though I am incredibly partial to this mustard/creme/red combo.

I don't really have too much more to say.

Here is her info:

adie.smith86@gmail.com

A link to her FB page:

Adria Smith

Comprarlos.

Keep yo'babies feets warm.

5th Graders.

Whenever I am speaking to someone and the fact that I am student teaching right now, they always ask/say:

'Really? What grade?'

My response:

'5th grade'

This erks me/their re-response:

'Ew'.

To own all of you who feel this way or who have said this to me:

Today, we had a substitute, which is a free day for subs.  Why?  I am halfway through, I have the responsibility of every planning and teaching every subject; I am the teacher. 

I did it ALL today. 

I enjoyed it to the fullest.

Even the indoor recess that ALWAYS happens every time we have a sub.

Why?

I made a statement about the indoor recess thing every time a sub is here.

One student, a 5th grader, in all sweetness said:

'It's because Mrs. Kissel isn't here.  The sun gets sad when she is gone'.

To make it even better, about half of the class told me how good I did today, without me even asking.

I absolutley love every one of those 5th graders.

Everyone else can suck it (all you EWWWW say-ers).