I’ve been so busy cleaning my house that I haven’t had time to blog.
Bwa-hahaha! Okay, not really. There have been some documented moments of dusting though. And I did unload the dishwasher this week, so that has to count for something.

I am eagerly anticipating the Matt Lauer interview of Wills and Harry, otherwise known as my future family. Though since it’s a Dateline interview, I don’t know how this is going to go down. If you are a young man and Dateline calls and want to meet with you, RUN! Before you know it, you’re sitting in your kitchen staring at a laptop, and some reporter has a mic in your face saying, “Do you know this thirteen year old?” I will be very disappointed if Wills and Harry are not on Dateline to discuss the future of the monarchy, their mother, their lives, and me. I know they are not predators, but I would still be able to sleep better at night if I knew Primetime was interviewing them instead. Be on your guard, princely gentlemen. Be on your guard.

As mentioned, I will be traveling to stalk Wills, er, I mean vacationing in Europe at the end of July. We are taking a highly recommended tour of England. A new addition has been added to this tour, and I hate it already. It’s evil. It’s scary. It’s TALL. It’s a giant Ferris wheel. I’ve never even been on one. They sway, they swing, and they…I don’t know, they have Nazi origins? Okay, I don’t know, but I hate them. I could fall out! Well, this beauty, the London Eye, is 443 feet high (Hello, that’s 438 feet taller than me.). My friends are proud of the fact that it’s the tallest observation wheel in the world. Um…that’s a reason to AVOID it—not jump on it. Wikipedia has this to say about it: “The rim of the Eye is supported by tie rods and resembles a huge spoked bicycle wheel.” Oh, okay. That makes me feel MUCH better. It’s made of twist ties and bicycle parts, for crying out loud. So yeah, excited about that. I am really looking forward to losing my cookies, er, my scones, in a bubble suspended a million feet in the air. And I’ve seen Spider Man. This is the type of place that people who want to destroy the world TARGET. Oh, well. I guess I have a while yet to prepare. And make out my last will and testament.

Paris Hilton went to jail.
Paris Hilton got out of jail.
Paris Hilton went back to jail.
Screaming.
Her lawyer claims she was put on house arrest due to medical conditions. Intially the press said the medical condition could be summed up in one word: RASH. Playing the rash card never works. Trust me, Paris. I try and use it all the time to get out of stuff. “Sorry I’m late for work. I had a rash.” “Sorry I forgot to pay you that ten bucks I owe you. I had a rash to take care of.” “Sorry I forgot your birthday. See I have this rash…” “No, I don’t understand all the intricacies of the Middle Eastern conflict. But I do have a rash.”
And house arrest? In the Hilton Mansion? I want to be on house arrest there!

Summer is my time to catch up on reading. Of course, I’m supposed to be reading Pride and Prejudice with my friend Kari. I have a feeling neither one of us are working too hard on it. But since I need something to do while I’m ignoring P and P, here’s what I’m reading:

All the Tea in China is a tale about an Englishwoman who stows away on a ship bound for the Orient so she can begin her life as a missionary. Then, oops, she gets caught (because it would be a dull book if she stayed hidden the entire 348 pages), and of course, falls in love with the ship’s captain (Just once why can’t the damsel in distress fall in love with a deck swabber? A lookout on the poop deck?). I’m not a big regency fan, but I liked the book. And the author did not survive to see it’s release, so purchasing this book would definitely help our the young family she left behind. And I do love the cover.

I am half way through The Specialists: Model Spy. This brilliantly intelligent sixteen-year-old girl gets caught hacking into the government’s computer system. Instead of going to prison, she gets recruited into a program for young smarties like herself, gets a new identity, and all but saves the world (while getting a boyfriend, I think). Oh, and she’s model beautiful. This might as well be my life story. Sooo many similarities. The long legs, the hacking, the child prodigy issue, having to fight the dudes off with a stick. And of course looking like Giselle or Kate Moss while entering computer code and wearing bifocals. Besides the fact that the author clearly ripped this story from my life, it’s a good book. Middle school audience though. So obviously I like it.

I’m listening to Michael Buble’s Call Me Irresponsible. I especially like “Me and Mrs. Jones.”
Though I don’t know why. I’m not Mrs. Jones. My mom is. Still, that song will make anyone wish they were Mrs. Jones. But his real life lady love is the girl who played the total heifer with crazy eye shadow in Devil Wears Prada. That’s not a good pic, but she had wild green eye shadow stripes everywhere. Mr. Buble, you sir, can do better than that. She’s mean and she abuses the Mary Kay products. And probably does not appreciate the track “Me and Mrs. Jones.” S’all
I’m saying.

If you, like me, have grown tired and weary of the war dominating the TV and news, wondering where has the good, quality, in-depth journalism gone–wonder no more. On the morn of June 18, Matt Lauer, who has not demonstrated his journalist chops since Tom Cruise got up in his glib face, will be interviewing my future relatives, Wills and Harry. You can check it out here. And who wouldn’t?

Today was my last day of school. So long school year, 2006-2007. It’s been…real.As in real long. Real exhausting. And real glad it’s over.

My summer plans (after the four days of school meetings, which I refuse to comment on):

1. Painting. The disaster known as my bedroom (John Deere threw up here), must be corrected. I stumbled upon inspiration and a theme a bit more calming today and will go with that. See, out of school only a few hours and already my brain is working better. John Deere green paint—this is my brain on school.

2. Spend some time with the cats, Grady and Miller. I think I have neglected one of the fuzzy wonders, as he is behaving destructively. And again, for those that keep up, he’s on meds. He has a running prescription of anti-depressants, but I think I probably need them more. Cat is psycho. Could be the green bedroom though. I wonder if this could get us on Dr. Phil?

3. Clean my house. I hear it’s what most people do. I think I’ll give it a try and see if it’s all it’s cracked up to be. I have my doubts.

4. Catch up on Oprah and once again ignore her book club selection. Hello, Oprah, your books are a drag! When are you gonna pick something funny? What’s wrong with a beach read? You know what this country REALLY needs?

Some Berenstain Bears. If we all read those, we’d know a proper bedtime is important, it’s not nice to yell at our siblings and neighbors, and parents (or teachers—especially short speech teachers) usually know best.

5. Find a wrinkle cream. I don’t really want to talk about it.

6. Drink lots of ice tea. (Which unfortunately racks up a lot of summer pee time)

7. Write The Big Picture, Act III in the Katie Parker series, and the book that follows this one, which releases in September. (And no, it’s really not 208 pages. I distinctly remember bleeding out quite a bit more.)

8. Layout and get a tan. Just kidding.

9. Do the Beth Moore Bible study on Daniel. Because that is one smart, southern girl. (We’re a lot alike like that).

10. Try to enjoy the break instead of waking up every day with the thought, “Oh, my gosh. I only have _________ more days left!”

And I want to say George Bush’s announcement today that Russia would not be bombing Europe really set my mind at ease. As I will be going there at the end of July, I do believe bombing and stuff could totally mess up my vacation. George W. does not want to see three single girls with nothing to loose get irate over a bombed Eiffel Tower and serious airline delays. Not to mention it would totally frizz my hair.

Happy summer to all!

This list was shared by my friend Lizann, also a teacher. Sooo true. (Though she is done with school. And I am not. It’s a wonder I’m still speaking to her.)

Top 10 ways to know you are ready for school to end(and a little editorializing from moi):10. You are so tired, you want to answer students' questions with "shut up." (I'm not proud, as this is a banned word in my classroom, but this happened tome JUST this week. And it felt AWESOME.)

9. Your friends call to ask how you’ve been and you immediately scream “Stop asking me these questions!” (What? What teacher is capable of phone conversation at this point?)

8. Your garbage can is now your “Inbox.” (Or in my case, every email I get that doesn’t say “free food in lounge” or “you can leave early today” automatically gets deleted.)
7. You wake up to discover your classroom is one fire, but go back to sleep because you just don’t care. (So not true. I would definitely save myself.)

6. You consider a 40 hour work week a vacation. (Oh…I’m expected to still be working? Right, right. I knew that.)

5. Visions of the upcoming summer and sleeping in help you make it through Monday. (Actually I’ve been sleeping in the last few weeks. I just want to practice before summer starts.)

4. You don’t set your alarm anymore because you just don’t care if you’re late or not. (See no. 5) (Though I did have to show up early for work today. I had double meetings this morning. And NOBODY brought donuts or pastries. What kind of institution of learning is this? Isn’t “providing unhealthy, high sugar food for meetings” covered in No Child Left Behind?)

3. The next kid who asks you for a pencil is going to hear “Don’t you have anything? Do you see Wal Mart tattooed on my forehead?” (Um…no. My kids have the skills and tools to see that happen. Not gonna risk that one.)

2. Your day timer/work planner exploded a week ago. (DayTimer? Planner? BWA-HA-HA!!! That’s a good one.)

1. You fantasize about how relaxing it would be if you were in jail right now. (After this last week of smelling fetal pig dissection from the classrooms on either side of me, definitely.)