learning.

I have learned many things this week.


I learned that Grammy's old lady exercise class is kind of hard. My fingers kept cramping when we did the "finger piano" exercise and my legs were shaking when we did the side kicks.


I learned what makes oatmeal special. After rehab, Grammy and I came home and Papa had breakfast ready for us. It was oatmeal, which was surprising because Papa hates oatmeal. But apparently it was special oatmeal.
Papa: This is special oatmeal.
Me: Oh yeah? Why is it special?
Papa: Because I made it.
I also learned that the proper way to eat your oatmeal is with strawberries, bananas, milk, and one Sweet 'n Low. Papa's recommendation.


I learned that blue birds can fit 15 meal worms (or mealy worms, according to Grammy) in their mouths at one time. Grammy has blue bird friends and she feeds them every morning during breakfast so she can watch them eat, too. She makes a whistling sound to call them to the feeder and then gives them 15 mealy worms. This morning, the girl blue bird ate all 15 mealy worms in approximately 17 seconds. I like her style.


I learned that Papa is going to give away all the cucumbers in his garden and buy pickles at Wal-Mart instead of making Granny Green's Pickles with them. Granny Green's Pickles are my favorite. And they would be yours, too. I promise. 

"Papa, are you going to make pickles with all those cucumbers?"
"Nope, I'm going to give them away and buy pickles at Wal-Mart."  

I learned that if you stick a bunch of chopsticks and mothballs in your flower planters, it will keep the squirrels out of them. Earlier this spring, Grammy planted her flowers in the backyard, went to plant them in the front yard, and by the time she came back to check on the back ones, a squirrel had dug them all up and scattered them around the porch. So now we use chopsticks and mothballs.


I learned that my mother found a brown recluse spider in her closet. And I don't like it one bit. If I lose a limb, you all know why.


I learned that I'm a really fast typer, according to Tony the Bug Man who is currently spraying our house for brown recluse spiders. He is my best friend.


I learned that there are some overalls in my closet at my parents' house and I will wear them every day. I asked my students if I would be cool if I wore overalls and they said absolutely not. But I think they're wrong. Who wouldn't want a pair of khaki capri overalls? It's okay to be jealous.

Middle School Julie would be so proud.

highs and lows.

High: I took my laundry in this morning. Say goodbye to Julie wearing dirty clothes and hello to Julie wearing 30lbs of freshly-laundered clothes. And I bet lots of you didn't know I was wearing dirty clothes. Ha. 



Low: I think someone in my apartment building has tuberculosis. The window in my room opens up to a small courtyard and every morning, no matter what time I wake up, I can hear a man cough-puking really loudly. The fun thing about courtyards is that they echo, and while it's nice when pleasant sounds are echoing, it's really disturbing when the sounds of cough-puking are echoing. How can someone cough-puke every single hour of every single morning? The only answer to this is tuberculosis.


So these are the steps I think he should take:

1. Go to the doctor/health department immediately.
2. Get some antibiotics.
3. Take them.

On the off chance that he's not infected with TB, I think the same steps should be followed. NYC is filled with diseases and cough-puking is bad.


High: I finished editing my book, thanks to my smart friends. I'm submitting it for publishing within the next month. Don't ask me what that means, because I'm still figuring that out. But it's happening. My grammy sent me a publishing contest and I've been researching steps involved in self-publishing, because word on the street is that self-publishing is the way to go. I'll keep you updated.


Low: I slipped on pigeon poop this morning and almost fell. There was a guy fixing light bulbs in the walkway to my building and I was busy making up stories in my head about how he got electrocuted and could then shoot lightning from his fingers and wasn't watching where I was walking. The poop smeared all over my shoes. I'm definitely going to get a disease. Then Cough-Puker and I will have to band together to beat the odds. We'll have to eat cold SpaghettiO's from the can and picket for a Cough-Puke-Free NYC. And we'll probably have to move to Canada.


High: I'm going to Buffalo this weekend. And that's close to Canada. And I'm going to see Niagara Falls. And swim in Scott's swimming pool. And hang out with Scott's family. And hopefully not wear shoes. And I don't work on Friday.


Low: I'm all by myself in the office. 


High: I got coffee from Starbucks this morning. Whenever I do my laundry I always treat myself to Starbucks on the way to work because laundry is hard.


Low: I got coffee from Starbucks this morning. I'm literally shaking at my desk. So. Much. Caffeine. Good thing no one is in the office with me.


High: Yesterday I got an entire subway car to myself on my way to work. So I spun around on the poles and sang Irish music. For those of you who commute into Manhattan, this is what a private subway car looks like:

It looks like this.

For those of you who love Irish music, this is a song that I like:

the knife diet.

Do you sometimes go to Mexican restaurants and eat so many free chips you have to lie down afterward? 
Do you ever accidentally shovel four packages of Ramen noodles into your mouth in one sitting?
Have you ever sat down to watch a movie and realized that you were absentmindedly eating bucket(s) of cheez-balls? And not the small cans, I'm talking the Sam's Club, economy-sized buckets.


Well, do I have the diet for you! It's called The Knife Diet! Forget those other utensils, and pick up your knives. Sure, the edge my cut your lip a little bit once in a while, but I guarantee that if you stick with the knife diet, the pounds will come pouring off!


Where did I get this genius idea, you might be wondering? Well, sometimes you can only find a plastic knife in your office. And sometimes the only thing you have to eat in your entire house is a chunk of cabbage and Italian dressing. And sometimes you think, "No big deal, I'll just stab my cabbage with my plastic knife and eat it! That will work!" Well, the best part of this diet is that eating with a knife generally doesn't work. It's really hard. And before you can eat too much, you get frustrated and give up! How could you overeat those chips if you have to use a knife to eat them with? You can't! Four packages of Ramen? Not happening with your knife in hand!


I think my love of knives started when I was a child. When my mom was at some volunteer function during dinnertime, we would often eat peas and my dad would let us stick them on our knives with honey and eat them off and we would all chant the poem:

I eat my peas with honey,

I've done it all my life.

It makes the peas taste funny, 

But it keeps them on my knife.

Yummm. Peeeeeasssss. Honeyyyyy.

Speaking of utensils and peas and childhood, I've always thought that it would be a good idea to invent the Knork, the knife-fork. All you have to do is take a fork and give it a knife edge. Kind of like the spork, but sharper. My siblings told me this was a really terrible idea because you would slice your cheek with every bite. That's why you just have to be careful. Everyone knows you have to be careful if you're eating with a Knork! And I also always wished the word "fork" was spelled "4k." And I love peas.

things that i've been doing.

Well, friends, it has been a while. Here are some things that I've been doing.

I've been getting real haircuts. Now, I know what you're thinking, "But, Julie! You're so good at cutting your own hair! I remember that time you cut your own bangs with your kitchen shears in your bathroom and they looked spectacular!" However, apparently they did not. After my haircut, my stylist told me to try and stop cutting my own hair. I told her I'd think about it. I mean, I've been cutting my own hair in the bathroom since I was 3 years old and hiding under the sink. I was just a gem of a child, right parents?

I've been working a lot. A lot, a lot. In fact, I just got home from Jumpstart's annual Scribbles to Novels fundraiser event where Tina Fey was the guest speaker! And Stephen Colbert recorded a video encouraging people to sponsor Jumpstart! Tina loves Jumpstart. Stephen loves Jumpstart. I love Jumpstart and Tina and Stephen. We're practically related. I've also been wrapping up the school year. My students are all leaving me and I'm going to miss them dearly! I mean, at least this week I will. Last week I didn't think I would miss them. Ever. There are only so many times I can define the word "mandatory" for them in one day without wanting to shatter something against the wall. I'm pretty sure I had this conversation with every one of my 70 students:
Julie: See you Tuesday night!
Student: Wait, what?
Julie: Did you read your email?
Student: Um, yes? I think so.
Julie: No you didn't. Open it on your phone immediately. Let me know when you've read it.
Student: (reads email) do we have to go on Tuesday?
Julie: Do you see that word "mandatory?"
Student: Yeah, but do we really have to go?
Julie: Do you know what the word mandatory means? It means yes, you have to go. Mandatory does not mean optional. It means required. As in be there. As in I'll see you on Tuesday night for that mandatory event.
Student: Oh.

Painful, I know. However, this week, they've all come by the office to say goodbye for the summer and I kind of miss them already.

I've been watching this video every day. Miriam and I decided that this is the best way to start our 12 hour workdays. Warning: It might change your life.

 

I've been getting my tax refunds. Sometimes you go through the month and you think, "Wow. Do I even have any money? How am I still able to pay for things?" And then you look at your online banking account and you see that you got your tax refunds and it is a glorious day so you go to TJ Maxx and buy 6 dresses. Making good financial decisions! Don't worry, Papa. I really needed those dresses. This way I only have to do laundry every 3 weeks and I never have to wear pants again! 

I've been dreaming about apartment bunny and looking at cute pictures. Like these little guys:

The best of friends!

And these guys:

Smooooooosh.

And the sleepiest of all bunnies:

Zombie bunnies.

I've been eating tiramisu. Well, tonight I did. I've been eating tiramisu tonight and it was excellent. I only choked on the cinnamon once.

dear bus driver.

Dear New York City Bus Operators,

There is no more room in the back of the bus. I know, you just want everyone to fit, and I want that, too. I've been that girl who is trying to get on the bus, but falls out and has to wait for the next one. I understand. But it just isn't going to happen, so you can save your voice and stop yelling. I promise we moved back as far as we possibly can. We would have even done that if you used your kind words. We're close. We're cozy. By proxy, these strangers have become my new best friends. We often bond about that time ten seconds ago when you slammed on the breaks and I flew two feet down the aisle and landed on that guy with the duffel bag. 

Or about that time you slammed on the breaks and I fell off the back step and that woman had to help me stand up because I was carrying a huge back filled with Green Eggs and Ham books and markers. 

Or that time you slammed on the breaks and I dropped my coffee mug and it rolled to the front of the bus, leaking coffee all over the floor, and that kid had to bring it back to me. 

Or that time you slammed on the breaks and I tripped over that old lady's bag. It was the best of times. 

And I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that most of this letter is about me falling, and it is, but that's not my fault or the point of this letter. I mean, it is normally my fault when I fall, like when I trip over my shoes or fall off curbs, but these instances are not my fault. And the point of this letter is that the bus is full. No one else can fit. I'm practically sitting on the girl playing Temple Run in the seat in front of me and I keep stepping on that guy in scrubs.


That's all I have for you. Except I don't think you should yell at that old guy who lost his MetroCard this afternoon. We all have bad days.


Love,


Julie


P.S. In case you're still confused, this bus=full:

This is what it looks like when a bus is full.

i'm not that cool and that's okay.

My students think I'm really cool, which is pretty interesting, because I'm not really that cool. I do have other redeeming qualities, but being "cool" isn't really one of them and that's okay. Happy, yes. Witty, sometimes. But cool, hardly ever (except for that time I won a free haircut by being caller number five on the radio and the DJ announced my name and I got to say that my favorite radio station is 102.3 BXR and then my sister called me and told me that she heard me on the radio. I was cool then). Sometimes, my students tell Miriam and me that we can do certain things because they think we're cool, but in all actuality we shouldn't do them because it doesn't go over well in real society because other people don't think we're cool.

Things our students tell us we can say in public, but we actually cannot:

 

What it is, yo?

This translates to "What's up?" Cool when our students say it, not cool when Miriam goes up and says it to some people outside a restaurant and all they respond with is "No."

What up, G?

Apparently, "G" means "gangster." Not "gentlemen," "gals," or simply the letter "G." And apparently, a white girl who grew up in the middle of Missouri doesn't get to say it.

 

Mad

As in, "That car is mad awesome." Or, "I stayed up too late and I'm mad tired." Once I said "I'm mad excited to go see Mamma Mia tonight." It didn't come off as cool. I don't care what anyone says, ABBA changes lives. My, my, how can I resist you?

Rage/Raging

Used in the context of, "I'm gonna rage hard tonight," meaning, I'm going to go out/dance/go to a concert/anything else that consists of staying up extremely late and exerting a lot of energy.

Things our students tell us we can do in public, be we actually cannot:

 

Dougie

They taught me how to Dougie and they told me I was really good at it. I'm not.

Go clubbin' with them

No. I'm not going to go clubbin' with you. I don't care if it's the coolest place you've ever been and they don't have a cover and your cousin is my age. No.

Rap all the words to Jay-Z songs

It appears that just because Miriam and I may know all the words to numerous Jay-Z/Nelly/Kanye/Snoop Dogg/etc... songs, it doesn't mean it is acceptable for us sing them in public. I suppose I'll just stick to Cher and Whitney Houston (I'm crying...) songs when we sing karaoke.

 

Things that my students told me I cannot do in public. Ever:

Throw up peace signs.

Moonwalk.

Sing Cher songs.

Use the phrases, "Holla!" and "Word!"

Show people how I can make one eye go cross-eyed and move the other one around in it's socket.

Talk about how much I want an apartment bunny.

Challenge people to Man vs. Food competitions/talk about how I could crush them in any Man vs. Food competition.

Do the Pancake Dance. I could have sworn this was cool.

you might think i'm weird.

I think that some people think I'm weird. I mean, it's totally okay if you do, because it might be true. And if you are one of those people who think that I am, this will only confirm your suspicions. I've started reading a lot on my commute to work, because it makes the time go faster and I like to read. The only problem with this is that I tend to read past my subway/bus stop and have to either: a) leap from my seat and sacrifice my arm to the closing doors, or b) get off at whatever bus stop I look up at and then walk a few/10 blocks back up the street to work. Currently, I'm reading the book Naked by David Sedaris (it's hilarious, thanks for asking). For a while, I tried to justify that this wasn't a weird book to read on the subway because David Sedaris is famous! Everyone knows about that book he wrote that is called Naked and has a picture of boxers on the front! But that is not true. The book is called Naked and it has a picture of boxers on the front and David Sedaris' name is in about size 10 font, so I'm pretty sure I look extremely creepy. I've started reading with it flat on my lap. I think that I'm going to write a letter to David to let him know that any further copies of the book should have his name a little bigger on the cover. And by a little bigger, I mean a lot.

Speaking of the subways, I would also like to introduce you to my imaginary pet rat-family, except that they aren't imaginary. They also aren't my pets, but I like them. They are real and they live in the Kew Gardens/Union Turnpike stop on the E/F subway line. I've named them the Cratchit family, after the Muppet Christmas Carol. The first time I heard them squeaking their little hearts out was one late night at work, when Miriam and I were finally heading home around 8:45pm, and I knew it was all going to be okay when I heard the Cratchits from the crevices of the underground; because, in my mind this is the Cratchit family and they deserve a better life.

No cheeses for the meeses.

They're just a normal rat family, working three jobs to put enough food on the table to feed their 50 +/- 100 rat children. I thought about bringing a loaf of bread to throw on the tracks to feed the Cratchits, but then I had images of:

1. People thinking I'm the weirdest person on the earth and rushing their children away from me when they see me.
2. The E train flying off its tracks and killing thousands of innocent people. All because of my so-called-harmless bread crumb. And this would also kill the Cratchit family.
3. Not having enough money to feed both the rats and myself, leading me to actually live in the subway with the Cratchit family.

So I have decided against bringing loaves of bread. Oh, and if you still think I'm weird, I promise you, there are weirder people out there. Like the person who smeared poop all over the windows of the R train last week.