I am not very interesting today.

This is my desk:


Please ignore the crappy photo; I took it with my phone (+2 life points for using a semi-colon in a blog post).

That's all I have for you today.

I was searching for inspiration and I just couldn't see past the blue fabric of my "walls." And then I realized that before I joined the 9-5 crowd, I was actually fascinated by the idea of cubicles. And so, in the event that any of you are as lame as I was/am, here's a post about my cube.

SIDE STORY: When I started dating Boyfriend, he was already out of college, and I had all sorts of crazy ideas about what was in his cube (whimsical pictures of us! stacks of paper labeled important! a constantly ringing phone!). What he actually had was a Kirby Puckett bobble head. I should have known.

Anyway.

In the photo above, you'll notice two of my four calendars. Why do I have four? Because I start to go into a blind panic if I can't see exactly what date and time it is from any given angle at my desk. So I'll keep them all, thank you, and add another if I get a chair that has better swiveling capabilities.

You'll also notice a campy mug with hearts on it. Purchased at T.J. Maxx for five dollars, it gets the job done and makes students think I'm older than I am, because seriously, who has patterned mugs? I want to replace it with this. Incidentally, my birthday is August 9th. No reason. Just saying.

That pink, sea anemone-type thing? I have no idea. It was novel for a while and now its home is right in front of the green water bottle that gets no use.

Boyfriend's Official C League softball schedule. A given. Remember the Kirby Puckett bobble head?

White Out to amend the four calendars I have at my desk.

Post-it notes in a color I dislike. I prefer the classic yellow, with black pen. But sometimes, you just have to suffer through.

White organizer that has a notebook I have used once and then found too cumbersome to bring around with me, assorted pens of which I actually only use two, business cards, a cute note from Boyfriend that I thought would be lame to pin up but now am actually considering (in the time it took to type that, I've already reconsidered). A ruler because I flip out if things aren't level. Spoons because I like to eat my yogurt from something that isn't plastic and designed to cut up my mouth. And a lone cough drop left over from my mysterious illness.

And that's it. I won't even get into the other side of my desk.

I'm sure all nine of you really enjoyed this.




It is absolutely no wonder that we do not have more followers.

In which I remember I have a blog...

So, as we all know, I'm an avid reader of the mommy blogs. My mornings are not complete without ogling pictures of their cute children and staring at their adorable monogrammed walls (they exist! why didn't my mother love me enough to give me monogrammed walls?!). I am one unhappy lady if someone has forgotten to post that morning, and often spend the rest of the day fuming that these strangers I've emotionally attached myself to didn't care enough to share a bit of their lives with me.

Except then I forgot to post for, oh, about three weeks. And realized maybe I can be a little bit critical of those who are sometimes too busy to get on blogger.

So, whoops.

A brief recap of what has gone on in my life:

1) I visited Southern B and our third amigo, whose name begins with an A and therefore does not fit into our Southern/Northern nickname constituency, in New Mexico.

Exhibit A:


Exhibit B:


Exhibit C:


2) I all but abandoned running due to said vacation above and a mysterious illness that robbed me of my voice and will to live. My training schedule says I should be doing about 4 miles by now, and I'm at about 2.5.

This road race should be interesting.

(Also, the boyfriend is averaging EIGHT miles on his run. EIGHT. I'm not bitter though.)

3) I planned a trip to Africa!

That's actually not entirely accurate. My parents planned a trip to Africa, and I begged to be allowed to tag on. They complied because they love me and didn't want to hear me complain for the next three months.

Come August, I'm Kenya bound. Imagine the blog posts, people. They're going to be epic.

If I remember to post, that is.

Medieval War Puggle.

Ask and ye shall receive.

So after the last "Pugs of War" post, I sent my little sister the picture. She saw it and texted me: "You are so weird. That is an awesome picture."

My mom saw it and said "What is wrong with you?"

I showed Boyfriend, and he said I should have made one with Medieval armor and weapons. I tried to put something on his back like a giant shield or something, but it didn't look right. If anyone has any suggestions for future Puggles of War let me know.

May I present Henry, Medieval War Puggle.

In other news...

(Image from passiveaggressivenotes.com)

Are mommy blogs the new chick lit?

I have always been big on guilty pleasures. I just feel that life is hard enough as it is, and everyone should be able to have that one thing that helps them escape for a little while.

When I was in high school, my roommate (oh, boarding school) and I were obsessed with chick lit. The running joke was that if it had been published by Red Dress Ink*, we had it on our bookshelf. I probably should have been studying, but what can I say? I loved those books about new shoes, flashy jobs, messy relationships and trife dialogue (for a perfect synopsis of how every single book went, read this). They were fun and easy, a welcome break from worrying about boyfriends (or complete lack thereof), where I'd go to college, what I'd wear to the dance...etc.

These days, I'm not so into the fluff books. Maybe it's because my life has become to similar to those in the books (Um, twenty something? Check. First jobs? Check. Piles of clothing I can't afford? Check), or maybe I just got tierd of reading the same story over and over again.

But I've found a new guilty pleasure.

Behold, the mommy blogs.

All Things In Moddy
Dave and Brit Plus One
Kelly's Korner
Babbling Abby

I regularly read about ten of these, about adorable women (mostly from the South) with their adorable children (mostly under three) and what it's like to be a mommy. I really can't get enough. I'm sure these women all have problems and issues all their own, but all I can see are the cute kiddies and great clothes.

Mommy blogs are the new chick lit.

Now, I realize that it might be a little creepy that I am admitting that I read them so regularly, but I've decided to share because these little blogs really do give me a second or two in my day when I can just escape from whatever I'm doing and plug into another life.

And I'm not ashamed to admit it.




*Editor's Note: I had NO idea that Red Dress was a division of Harlequin, arguably "the" name in trashy, grocery store bodice rippers, until I decided to link them. This is why they're called guilty pleasures, people. I feel the shame, even years later.

Release the Puggles of War.

I want to share with you, internets, a little glimpse into a bizarre side project of mine. If we want to call it that.

My Boyfriend (from now on to be referred to as Boyfriend) has an undeniably strange side. As do I.

My dog Henry has a toy Hedgehog. It is the only dog toy I have EVER gotten him that he has not immediately destroyed. Seriously, any toy he has ever had (even the "indestructable!" ones) he has attacked, pulled out all the stuffing, and stredded.

Except for one.

The hedgehog.

As Boyfriend and I were sitting idly on the couch, the following conversation took place:

Me: I think its weird that Henry's had this toy forever and hasn't torn it up yet.

Boyfriend: Huh.

Me: Don't you think? Why do you think that is?

Boyfriend: I bet its because his family was brutally murdered by Hedgehogs. He is using the toy to train for his revenge.

Me: ...

Boyfriend: Yeah! When Henry was a puppy, an army of Hedgehog captured, tortured, and murdered his family. He was the only survivor. Before they killed them, they clipped their toenails. That's probably why Henry hates getting his nails clipped.


After this, he began singing about the Legend of the War Puggle.

This strange aside continued for weeks and weeks. This legend became more and more elaborate. The War Puggles wore expertly crafted armor, complete with chain-mail and spikey helmets. They could be tossed into the ranks of an opposing force by humans and wreak havoc.

I decided that movies should be remade with War Puggles as the lead roles. This lead to a discussion of every War/Action movie I could think of. I then substituted one of the words for "Puggle" or "Pug."


Artist's rendering of what a War Puggle might look like:

Here is the list:

• Gettyspug
• All Puggles on the Western Front
• A Farewell to Pugs
• Casapuggle
• Inglorious Puggles
• The Thin Red Pug
• The Hunt for Red Pugtober
• Flags of Our Puggles
• Pug Harbor
• We Were Puggles
• Black Pug Down
• The Hurt Puggle
• Kingdom of Puggle
  
• Lethal Puggle (1, 2, and 3)
• Top Pug
• First Pug
• Saving Private Puggle
• Puggles in Arms

• 

Because I care, YOU care.

Yesterday, I ran two miles OUTSIDE.

I had never done that before.

I am this much closer to being this girl (except less tan, and in shorts a color other than yellow):

(Image from self.com)

That is all.

Shwag.

Since deciding I was going to transform myself into an athlete (even more impressive, a runner), I've gone about the business of getting the correct tools for the job.

Because everyone knows you can't just run, you need cool accessories to do it with.

The first, and arguably most important, stop was to Marathon Sports in Brookline to get new sneakers. I actually can't say enough good things about this place. First, they were super attentive from the second I walked in, despite the fact that I was wearing a ruffled sundress and ballet flats. Second, they actually took the time to watch me walk barefoot, then in shoes, then running, then running outside. Third, they legitimately didn't seem to care at all when I was discussing the colors of the different shoes and how they might affect my mile time. I got out of there with an awesome pair of Asics that make me feel like I'm not wearing shoes at all.

The second was to Lululemon. I actually can't afford anything in there right now, but I mentally planned my race day outfit.

The third and most current obsession, began with a little trip to Amazon.com and ended with a small, red and white sensor that is currently in my purse in case Abby found it in my room and decided to eat it.

The Nike+.

Southern B told me to get it months ago, but I hesitated (I have a hard time making planned purchases). WHAT.A.MISTAKE.

This baby is AWESOME. It tells me how fast (slow?) I'm going, how long I've run, and allows me to press a button that activates my "power song." It makes me feel like a REAL runner. At the end of the week, I can see how many miles I've gone so I can casually drop that number in conversation.

Is there any downside to this little device?

I think not.

I'm an "athlete!"

"Athlete" in quotation marks, because really, I'm not. But by June 5th, I will be...

Explanation:

I've always wanted to be one of those effortlessly sporty, spandex short wearing, perky ponytail swishing girls. Pangs of jealousy used to gnaw at me every time they jogged by me eating an ice cream cone on the street.

A few months ago, I worked at a gym. Let me tell you, it's hard to avoid the gym when you work. there. The trainers will not give you a break! So I started working out. At first, it was just the elliptical, but as time went on, I started feeling like I wasn't actually doing anything. I decided to conquer the treadmill.

I started very slowly, but I've now gotten to the point where an average jog is somewhere around two miles. Instead of reviling in my success, what do I do? I SIGN UP FOR A ROAD RACE.

That's right my friends. Come June 5th, I'll be running the Harpoon Road Race. It's about five miles, and I'll be doing it with the boyfriend, his friends, and some of the boyfriends' friends' girlfriends who are now MY friends (phew).

Tonight's the night I see whether I can actually even RUN five miles.

Pray for me.

Bullies.

When I was in elementary school, I was bullied. A lot.

I don't know why I was the target of schoolyard (and school room, and school library, and school bus... ) bullying, but it was absolutely merciless. The taunting would give me stomach aches so severe that my parents eventually took me to the hospital to rule out a serious medical condition. My mother and father did go to the principle, but little was done. If I remember correctly, the school administrators actually told the bullies that my parents had registered a complaint, and that only made everything worse.

Eventually, I switched schools, and the bullying stopped. I was able to move on with little lingering damage. Phoebe Price, a South Hadley, Massachusetts resident, wasn't able to "move on." After a final day of being exhaustively taunted, the 15 year old hung herself in her parents' home. Her 12 year old sister was the one who discovered her body.

This case has received some national and significant local media attention. You can read about it here and here.

Nine students have been charged with crimes related to her death, and three of them will be tried as adults. State officials have also condemned the faculty members of her school who apparently knew she was being bullied, and did little to nothing to stop it. Citizens of South Hadley are calling for their resignation.

This case makes me sick to my stomach.

Children can be cruel, and to a certain extent, there's not a whole lot we can do about it. Empathy and compassion are traits that I believed are learned, and not necessarily inherent in all people. There will always be someone that's pushed on the playground. Still, there's a line. And it needs to be drawn much earlier than it was for Phoebe, and will be for future victims.

I'm sure there will be some who say that her bullies (who I refuse to call children, because the extent of their manipulation shows a level of intelligence that puts them beyond a title that claims innocence), while cruel, should not be sentenced to imprisonment or given a record that will follow them for the rest of their lives.

I can't disagree more.

For every action, there is a reaction. Every decision, whether it's been carefully chosen or hastily made, has a consequence. When you, as a student, choose to taunt someone for, if some of what I have seen is correct, months, and she decides she can no longer live with your cruelty, you need to be punished. Strongly and irreversibly.

When you, as a school administrator, become so jaded that you believe "kids will be kids," and stop looking out for the interests of children you've been entrusted to teach and protect, you deserve to lose your job. Permanently.

I hope that Phoebe's taunters are given the maximum punishment available for their crimes. And I hope that this story brings bulling more national attention. The more people see how devastating it can be, the more I believe will be done to stop it.