A marathon of a moment

I know for a fact The Wall isn't a myth.

Sure, there are plenty of ways to avoid it, but it doesn't always happen as one would like. I re-learned this in the White Rock Marathon recently. I realize that a lot of it is "all mental," but there can come a point where your body just feels like death run over and that you have nothing left.

Enter yours truly at about mile 24.

To qualify for Boston, which I've done once but never went to run it, I needed to run a 3:40. But I wanted to do more than that; my goal was to break 3:30. And I sure as heck wasn't about to let The Wall wreak havoc on my plans.

To play spoiler for you, I ran a 3:26:05, so I definitely got more than I wanted, but those last 2.2 miles were pretty much hell on earth. I had run a solid race, though probably ran the first half too quickly, on par for probably a sub-3:20, which I knew wasn't my smartest move. But at some point in the race, I decided my best bet was just to run as hard as I could until I had absolutely nothing left in the tank.

Again, let's mention mile 24.

I think that might forever be a cursed number for me now.

I had lost some circulation in my hands and couldn't really feel them, so I had trouble grabbing a cup of water around the 24-mile mark. I would like to extend my apologies to the poor little girl who graciously volunteered her Sunday morning to help the masses pass out hydration to the runners. Little did she know that some redhead marathoner would knock a full cup all over her previously dry little body and just keep running without even looking back. I don't think you heard me mutter an "I'm sorry," but it was there. And, again, my sincerest apologies.

At this point, I knew I was going to smash my 3:30 goal; now it was just a matter of getting to that finish line that was so close, yet a world away. I had come this far, so what was another couple of miles?

Don't ever ask me that if you don't want to receive the face that some of my students have termed "The Merrill Look." Trust me, you don't want that one.

I was definitely quoting Isaiah and praying for strength (and for God to carry me the rest of the way), and with about half a mile left I thought I was going to cry. And I don't cry. But then I saw something that stopped my tear ducts from activating and took my mind off my cement-weighted legs: my little sister was running toward me to help me finish.

Steph had run the first leg of the relay with some friends, and she waited at the finish line so she could motivate me to the end. I tried pushing as hard as I could when she came and started encouraging me, and one of my favorite exchanges of the day was:

Steph: Are you ready to sprint it in?

Me: Am I not sprinting yet?!

When I crossed that line at 3:26:05, it wasn't just special because I had achieved a goal I had been working to obtain through grueling long runs and months of training; I was doing it with my favorite person right beside me.

A Chris-less Thanksgiving

This is going to be a weird Thanksgiving.

My sister and I have always been the two youngest members of our family until our cousins started having kids. But the past few Thanksgivings, we've had those little tots running around. But things are going to be very different this year.

My cousins are all spending the holiday with their spouses' families, which has happened before. Usually at least one of them is there, but I've kind of gotten used to them trading off holidays where we see them. Last year was really fun because we had a big crowd at my aunt and uncle's house, which I loved because my family is pretty darn awesome. And, while I will miss my cousins and other extended family members who aren't there this year, that's not what bothers me.

This will be the first Thanksgiving where my brother won't be there.

I understand that things change as we get older, and his girlfriend spent last Thanksgiving with our family, but does he really have to go to Mississippi with her? I mean, he's never not been there with us. Who is going to hog all of the mashed potatoes? Who is going to be the only one to eat that nasty cranberry sauce that keeps the shape of the can when you pour it out? Who is going to sit and watch the Cowboys game with me and not try to make small talk when I'm clearly focused in on this beautiful holiday tradition?

I love all of my family and am so thankful for those who will be there this year, but I can't say that I'm not a little disappointed. I even think my brother's girlfriend is so cool, but I wish they were going to stuff their faces with us on Thursday.

I guess sometimes the more things change, the more they don't stay the same.

Goodbye Cavy, hello Ravy!

I know material possessions shouldn't be the focus of life, but I really do love my new car.

A couple of weeks ago, the Crapalier (my hated little Chevy Cavy) pretty much reached its breaking point. I couldn't take it anymore, so I had my brother take me car shopping on a Tuesday, and I found the perfect fit for me: a Toyota Rav4. So, that following Saturday, I spent five hours at the dealership bargaining with those sharks known as car salesmen. They really are a different breed, I must say. At one point, I found myself negotiating with the general manager of the whole place.

In the end, I finally got what I wanted. The best part? The Ravy actually works! I mean, the check engine light isn't on, the break light isn't on (even though the emergency break isn't even close to being in use), I can roll down any window at any point in time without having to lean across the space of the car and put my arm muscles to work, I can lock all the doors at once, and there is still that new car smell, as opposed to the smell of a vehicle about to explode when you shut the engine off.

This is the first big purchase I've made on my own, so I suppose that's an added joy to the fact that I won't find myself seeking alternate methods of passing my inspection each year.

Gotta have faith

There are simply some things in life that I will never understand.

I know I'm not supposed to know why everything happens the way it does, but sometimes that frustrates me to no end. Just at the point where I think I may have figured one of life's great mysteries out, another unexpected obstacle pops up and reminds me just how clueless I can be on occasion.

And all that's left to do is sit there and think: "God, why?"

And I wonder if I'll ever know. Because right now it's unclear to me why God does some of the things He does. Yes, I trust Him with His plan and purpose, but the human nature in me frequently gets a bit perturbed at the fact that I can't be all-knowing. Where are my superhero powers when I need them?

I guess that's what it means to have faith, though. You have to be confident in something you don't know or maybe can't even see. You have to be certain in that in which you hope. And you have to keep that hope and trust alive.

Faith. It's funny because, while having faith is completely in my hands, it's that same faith that takes everything out of my hands entirely.

Baby, baby

It's really weird when your lifelong friends start having kids.

Rachel, my friend whom I've known since I was 2, will bring a little boy into this world in a month or so. It's just so hard to fathom her having a kid when it seems like we were just kids ourselves.

"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you might miss it." Thank you for that, Ferris Bueller.

Rachel's baby shower was Sunday, and it was so great to see some of my old friends again. I really miss spending time with them, and I'm really thankful that it's so easy for us to pick up where we left off. Just like true friends can do. I also got a chance to catch up with my two Sunday School teachers from high school. These women are incredibly wise and taught me probably more than they will ever know during those crucial years in a young woman's life. They are still just as beautiful and Godly as ever.

Rachel's going to make an amazing mother, and I hope her baby boy grows up to develop lasting friendships like the one we have. They really make the ups and downs of life a lot more bearable and enjoyable.

Summer days have come and gone...

I'm not ready for the cold weather.

I know: I'm in Texas, so I don't really know what "cold" is. I realize I've never suffered through the bitter winters of the Northeast, but that's beside the point. The fact of the matter is that this weather is cold to me. I'm used to temperatures being in the 80s and 90s, which is what I prefer. I even love the triple digits.

It gets to the point where I fear going outside unless I'm going running. For some reason, no matter what the temp is, I always run in shorts with no problem. But if you try to get me to go out in the frigid degrees at any other moment in time, try getting some new friends. In Texas, it's rare that we get snow, so it isn't like we'd be sledding or doing anything fun. And I definitely don't consider experiencing hypothermia and frostbite an enjoyable pastime. Summer would never do that to me.

I need to buy some more winter clothes, because I don't feel I was adequately prepared or kept warm last year. I hate having to put another dent in my wallet, but I suppose there is a price to pay to survive. The summer would never do this to me.

I already miss the days of wearing tank tops and lounging around at the pool. I won't be going near any water for the next few months. It's hard enough having to take a shower. Summer would never do this to me.

Another downfall of the drop in temperatures is the rise in my electric bill. I have such a cheap bill in the summer because I don't ever turn on the air conditioning. But, in the bitter colder months, I have to resort to the heater. I'm hoping to be able to wait until at least December, but you never know. I just hate seeing that price climb to figures of epic that make my head hurt. Summer would definitely never do that to me.

I love the summer. I miss the summer. I mean, is global warming really such a bad thing? (Just kidding...sort of.)

Some Frigid Truths

It's been awhile, my dear audience of about two or so.

Things have been pretty busy in my world lately, but I haven't been feeling bogged down or anything. It's actually best that I have things to do, because the summer started to get kind of boring there towards the end. Although, I must admit, I do miss those days of heat and freedom.

Speaking of which, I don't like this weather change. I hate cold weather, and I don't like the fact that it's starting to hit this part of the Great State full throttle. Sure, some might not really think the low 60s fall into the "cold" category, but those people probably didn't grow up basking in the temperatures of triple digits. Oh, pool time. Sigh.

I turn 25 on Friday, and I'm not too sure how I feel about that. I mean, that's 25 years of life. Have I really been here that long? And what all have I done in this span of time? Birthdays become so much less significant when you get older. When you're a kid, you can't wait for them to happen. As an adult, I hesitate to use the word "dread," but that might be an adequate description of how many people feel as they approach the next increment in age.

I'm excited about hanging out with my sister tonight. I sure love that gal! I'm so proud of her and can't wait to see what she does in life. She turns 23 next Monday, so we are going to celebrate together on Saturday. Now I just have to decide what to get her...

On another note, it's Western Day here at work, so I'm sporting some purple cowboy boots. Rock on.

Too much to forget

I can't believe it's been almost eight years since the attack on Sept. 11.

I will never forget that day, because so many disastrous and weird things happened. I woke up that morning and went to cross country practice, just like any other day. I was a junior in high school, and I was dealing with the trivial stresses of teenage life, topped off by a pain in my foot. It had been there for a few weeks, but this morning it was particularly awful, and I felt shooting pangs running from the top of my foot, through my shin and up to almost my knee. My coach told me to go to the training room to have someone look at it. No bueno.

Well, when I got to the trainer, the television was on, and I could see that there was some sort of serious breaking news. I really only concern myself with sports, so I didn't pay too much attention to it. After all, I was just a selfish high schooler concerned with not much more than the troubles I was facing.

I heard someone in training room talking about how New York had just been bombed. As we were staring at the reporter on the screen, another plane flew on its suicide mission. What...was...happening?

I realized this was an actual serious event now. America was under attack.

I got dressed for school and went to my next class, still confused at what was going on in the world. Oddly enough, my second period class was history, so we of course tuned in to the news to keep up with the latest updates. But, for some reason, things still weren't clicking, and I was more concerned with my possible broken foot. So, I called my dad, who worked in orthopedics at a hospital, to see if I could get in for an X-ray.

Although I could drive, my mom insisted on taking me. When we got to the hospital, there was the news again. More terrorism. More deaths. And it still wasn't fully clicking. After all, I had a stress fracture, and for some reason that's all I wanted on my mind at the moment.

When my mom brought me back to the school, we were surprised to find the main entrance to the parking lot blocked off, and the whole school had evacuated the building. Seriously? Apparently some prankster thought it would be funny to call the school with a bomb threat on the day when our nation had just witnessed terrorism at its finest.

They wouldn't let us in the front, so my mom and I parked at the Quizno's right by the school and walked over. If they were going to let people go home, we were taking my sister with us, so we set out to find her. Well, we did, but then we were stuck. No one was going anywhere.

It was rather hot (as it usually is this time of year in Texas), and after multiple hours of sweating in the sun, everyone was finally shewed into the field house out by the football field. Have you ever been in a confined space like that with a couple thousand people? Let me tell you, it's no picnic. When we finally were able to leave, the whole day felt almost like it had been in this weird, alternative universe, and I still didn't have a clue what it all meant.

I felt kind of guilty after a little while. I knew what had happened was horrible, but was I a heartless wench for not crying or mourning like those around me? I don't show a lot of emotion like that often, but I still felt like I wasn't even feeling enough. I mean, there were so many lost, innocent lives because of this tragedy, and I had fretted more over my stupid stress fracture than anything else. What kind of person was I?

Looking back now, it's easy to say that what happened was horrific. I guess, though, that at the time I was too naive to understand fully the events that had taken place. I suppose my level of maturity was also a factor in that, when you are in high school, the world often revolves around you and you alone. But I realize that this is so far from true. There were far too many heroes and victims on Sept. 11, 2009, to think that the trials I faced as a teenager could measure up to anything that happened in our nation that day.

Another thing I will always remember from that day are the calm skies. It's strange not to have planes flying overhead and hear the distant roar of the traveling engines. The serene atmosphere was almost choking and eerie.

Just like the blur of the entire day.

A Cancerous Reality

I wish cancer would just disappear forever.

I've always hated the disease, but I've never had it directly impact me as much as it is now. One of my best friends has a sister, Mary, who is battling it. I've become friends with her, too, and she is such a precious gem. She was diagnosed with cancer 15 months ago, and since then has overcome it twice.

But now it's returned with a vengeance.

And it's so frustrating, because I can't stop it. No one seems to be able to do so. Will there ever be a cure? Will we ever have comfort in knowing that someone diagnosed with cancer will be able to triumph without any doubt? Or will we forever be in this seemingly alternate universe of a waiting game...waiting for someone to be a miracle or waiting for someone to leave us?

I don't even know how to comfort my friend, either. She's so brave and trying so hard to put on her strong face and press on as best she can. But it's hard. The tears are piling up, and, every once in a while, they come streaming down like a cascade of rain drops on a worn out field.

It's so hard to face reality, but it's even harder to escape it forever.

According to the doctors and other scientific research, MareBear has a 20 to 30 percent chance of defeating the cancer this time. I've vowed to be her prayer warrior, and I'm going to be it with the most hopeful heart possible. Even though those chances are so slight, only 20 to 30 percent survival rate, I know that my God can overcome even the most slim of statistics. He is so much bigger than numbers.

I can't make cancer go away. I can't make pain vanish from my friends' lives. I can't even stop their tears from pouring out when the most unpredictable comment or incident sets off a trigger that releases the streams that won't be slowed down.

It's out of our hands.

And I think that's one of the hardest things about cancer that we face.

So long sweet summer...

Wow, summer is really gone.

I can't believe how quickly it happened. I feel like it wasn't that long ago when the school year was ending. Now a whole new one is beginning. Just when we thought the madness was over, an entirely new round of it is in the works.

The good news is that I don't feel nearly as stressed out as I was this time a year ago. That first year of teaching is a beating, and I'm so glad I already have it under my belt! I feel so much more energized and refreshed, and I hope it will last the duration of the year. I know there will be some valleys of fatigue, but that's to be expected.

I'm also feeling great with my running lately. I feel stronger than I ever have, and I'm pumped for the half marathon I'm running this Sunday. And I'm definitely not going to let the flippin' blisters that took residence on a few of my toes get in the way of capturing that PR I want. Bring it, uggos.

The Cowboys are winning right now, but the Rangers are not. I'm going to need them to step it up. The race for the AL wild card is too close with Boston, and we can't afford to fall any. As for the 'Boys, their new stadium

is wicked awesome, though we are definitely witnesses to a few glitches that need to be worked out before the actual season begins. And could someone please give Martellus Bennett a few more accolades? I can't help but love that guy! I know he's done a few goofy things, and that's probably one reason I like him so much, but he's also a useful asset on the field. I could throw in an Aggie jab right now, but I have a few friends who are A&M grads and would not like that much (though, does anyone actually read this blog?).

We just scored again. Gosh, I love my 'Boys. No doubt, this is a good Friday night.

A License to Change

I'm not quite sure how I feel about the new Texas license plates.

Sure, change can be a good thing sometimes, but I can't say for certain that this one is. I keep thinking all of these cars are out-of-staters just visiting the great Lone Star State. If I ever (and please pray to God that this happens soon) get a new car that actually has functional capabilities, will I have to suffer the scrutiny of other drivers trying to determine if I am a legit Texan?

Plus, there are now seven characters on the plate. Yes, seven. I know, I know...there are only supposed to be six. Now we have an extra letter or number to bog down our minds if for some reason or another we have to memorize someone's tags. Why would anyone do this to us? What have we ever done to deserve this drastic need for adaptation?

And I never saw any sort of document requesting my vote for what the new look of these plates would be. Did you? If I'm going to have to see these and possible have one on my vehicle, shouldn't I at least get some sort of say in how ugly or attractive they should be? (I just checked, and apparently there was an e-vote for the measure, but I don't think the one I currently see is even on there. Plus, the voting measure was not well publicized at all.) I'm not sure I even like the new look. It looks too much like something out of Montana or Nebraska.

And we all know that those states don't hold a candle to us.

Is this a ridiculous thing with which to concern myself? It's highly likely, but that is just the way things often go. You get a ridiculous blog post about something completely absurd.

Give me back my license plate familiarity, Texas Department of Public of Transportation. Please.

Thanks be for The Cinco

I'm blessed beyond belief to have such wonderful friends.

When I first moved to the city where I now live to be closer to where I teach, it was kind of a lonely experience. Sure, my family is only about 30-40 minutes away, but there were times when even that felt too far. I just felt so disconnected from society, even though I was surrounded by people every single day. Even some of the teachers who work with me became my friends, but many of them have extremely busy lives outside of school, and it's also hard to escape the school bubble completely when you hang out with other teachers. Somehow the conversation always ends up back to something in the world of education.

Monotony became a common theme.

I had coached at a local running store in my hometown, so I decided to coach for the branch of the store in my new city. This is where my friendships with Speedub and Kebbers (I love nicknames!) began. They were already pretty close friends, and I really didn't see them except for on coaching nights twice a week, but I thought they were pretty cool.

Then, I signed up to do a 5K race one weekend, and they talked about racing it, too, but I didn't really talk with them about meeting up there or anything. When I first pulled into the parking lot, I was kind of hoping to see at least one of them, so I was incredibly thankful when I spotted Kebbers first thing when I got out of my car. Speedub came shortly, and I just tagged along with them for morning. I wasn't too concerned if they wanted me to or not.

At the start line, they introduced me to LizRaz (though that was not her nickname yet) and informed me that she was really fast and would win the race. This turned out to be true. I came in second and could barely even see her for most of the race. They all ran for the store's team, and they encouraged me to join. I decided that was a good idea, especially after all the fun I had hanging out with them after the race. It was pretty cold outside, but we waited for the awards ceremony, and Speedub took multiple pictures. I left the race thanking God for a wonderful morning and hoping that I would become better friends with these ladies.

It's amazing how God times things so perfectly and can put people in your life at just the right time.

Since that race, our friendship has grown, and it's so nice to know I have a group of women who I know will always be there for me to encourage me and help me when my spirits are down. LizRaz also introduced us to Taz, who doesn't live in the DFW area, but we hope she comes back to visit real soon. After all, the five of us form The Cinco.

And they are such inspirations! LizRaz and Kebbers have become triathletes, and Speedub never lets any of us down in showing up for races and cheering/taking pictures if she is not 

running. She drove me all the way to my 15K race last weekend, cheered, took pics and made sure I stayed hydrated after the race. On the way, she even accommodated my music selection and the temperature of the car. It was so selfless!

I had a bad race this morning, and after I told them about it, they all offered encouraging words full of wisdom and understanding. These gals are hilarious, fun, so full of energy and so full of kindness.

God bless The Cinco.

I'm more of a city girl

I am very thankful I wasn't raised in a small town.

I attended a workshop this week at a small college in a small town, and I was suddenly overly grateful for my suburban roots. I don't mean this to sound snobbish by any means, but I just can't see myself enjoying life in a place like this.

Everybody knows everybody, and everybody knows everybody's business.

And I don't do so well with things that are completely run down and rustic. Coming from a suburb of Dallas, I'm used to certain things and a specific way of life, and it's weird to be amidst all these people who have never experienced that lifestyle. Things are so different. Sure, it's nice to have that laid-back way of doing things every now and then, but I suppose I've become too comfortable with a fast-paced, go-get-'em style.

Compared to many other cities in this world, my hometown is relatively small, but not like this. Yes, I appreciate the lyrics of John Mellencamp, but I don't plan to live and die in a small town. I can barely breathe.

I know my opinion might be different if I had grown up in a small town and experienced that lifestyle, but I doubt I would be the same person I am today. I can see how it would be easy to get into trouble as a teenager, as there really isn't too much else to do here. Plenty of great, wholesome people are products of small towns, but that desire of wanting to escape and go to bigger and better things and beat the monotony can make people do things they might not in other situations. Some of them get out of the small town life. Some of them stay forever. In talking to some of the locals, this can be both enjoyable and miserable.

No, I don't have anything against small towns or the people who live in them or are from them. I think my main point is simply that I'm glad I didn't grow up in a small town, and I'm very thankful for where I am now.

And I'm most thankful that I get to go home today!

Miss Independent

I love America, even if it is a gluttonous place.

Joey Chestnut set a world record today with his 68 hot dogs in the annual Nathan's Famous Fourth of July International Hot Dog Eating Contest, defeating eating phenom Takeru Kobayashi for the third straight year. I'm going to go ahead and state the obvious: that's a heck of a lot of hot dogs!

This event is by far one of the most disgusting things to view, but I make it a yearly tradition to watch it on my beloved ESPN. The commentators throw in some witty remarks, and the whole thing becomes a fun, fairly comical event. However, it's also downright serious. These eaters mean business. The top two female competitors, Sonya "The Black Widow" Thomas and Juliet Lee were even compared to the likes of Venus vs. Serena, Clinton and Palin and other famous female rivals. Ridiculous. Awesome.

I love the Fourth of July. It really is such a great holiday, and I'm glad that so many people get together with their families and just have some quality fun. Even if we are becoming a fat nation, at least we still have our freedom to be fat.

Also, big shout out to the troops fighting for this great country. Especially Dane. Come home soon!

Happy birthday, America!

Living like a bum

As the title might imply, I have been feeling rather useless lately.

I have discovered that the summer life of a teacher can be a whole lot of, well, nothing. Sure, I am working part-time at RunOn!, but that only keeps me occupied a couple days a week. And, to be quite honest, I have enjoyed not having much to do lately.

The school year held stress and fatigue, so it's more than refreshing to be able to catch my breath this summer. I've spent more than just a few afternoons at the pool reading, and I've gotten to run farther and faster. And I've been running more races recently, which I love!

I have also discovered that I am a better napper than I ever thought possible. It's as if all the sleep I did not get throughout the school year accumulated and finally hit me like a ton of bricks. I'll tell you, a nap sure is a thing of beauty!

Lest I should sound like a complete waste of space, I have also still been coaching at RunOn!, and I've been giving a few private swim lessons a couple times a week. I also did some cleaning the other day, which was more than needed. Let's just say that it had been a long while.

Man, summertime as a teacher sure does rock.

The Inspirational Squirt

My sister is seriously the coolest person you will ever meet.

No joke.

There was a time—long, LONG ago—when I questioned my parents' good judgment for not stopping having kids after me. I later realized that my life would truly be incomplete if they had. But, when you are a little kid, everything is about you, and a little sister just gets in the way of you getting your way whenever you want. After all, she's trying to get what she wants at the same time. And the word "cooperation" really isn't in your vocabulary, nor do you want it to be.

It took a lot of time and many scars—physical, of course—to get to the point where I thought my sister was "cool" enough to hang out with me. Now I know that there is no way on earth I am cool enough to hang out with her, but she lets me, anyway. And she has become one of the people I admire most in this world. It's funny how time and God change us and change our perspective on things.

I can't even begin to put into words how proud I am of this girl. Is she perfect? Absolutely not, and she will be the first one to tell you that. But she knows she had God's grace and mercy, and she knows she doesn't need much more to make it in this crazy world. And she is learning daily from Him and seeking to serve Him more in all she does.

Right now she is at Sky Ranch, helping young children and teens grow closer to God and know what it means to live for Him. I know she is changing lives out there, while she is being changed at the same time. Just in the brief conversations I've gotten to have with her, it's so apparent that her maturity level is deepening, as is her relationship with the Lord. I honestly sit at the other end of the line in pure amazement at the work He's doing in her life. How am I so blessed to be able to have this incredible woman as my sister? I may never know the answer to that, but I will forever be thankful.

I've seen my baby sister go through various stages in life—the highs and lows that this world often brings—and I've watched as she came out stronger at the other side of each one. She's living her story, and she's doing it with such courage and trust.

She also does it with a tremendous amount of spunk.

In a crowded room, my sister is one of those people who stands out. There is just something about her that shines and draws others to her. And once you spend time with her, you walk away a better person, knowing you've just been in the presence of some who will truly leave a legacy.

When I ran my first marathon, my sister woke up early (she is definitely NOT a morning person) and spent the entire morning cheering for me and then helping me with whatever I needed when I finished. When I had to go to the hospital one night my sophomore year of college, she drove the three-hour trip with my mom in the middle of the night to come be with me. When I was crazy enough to participate in a freezing-cold mud run earlier this year, she was right there at the start line to support me. And when I was suffering from mild hypothermia after the race, she practically dressed me all by herself in the middle of the parking lot (since I was pretty much useless because of the chills at that point).

And those are only a few things she has done. The complete list is actually pretty endless.

I can't wait to see what this girl is going to do in life. Beware, world. The Runt is definitely ready for you.

I'm a Survivor

I officially survived Year One.

Yes, I made it through my first year of teaching. I know that this is something that a countless number of individuals have done, but I cannot begin to describe the sense of combined pride and relief I have in being able to say this. And, in spite of the fact that there were definitely moments when I thought I was on a road heading towards padded walls, I really enjoyed the school year.

I know that I am right where I am supposed to be.

This year really helped me grow in so many ways, and I learned my own lessons in life right alongside those students. It's incredible to be able to find those lessons in places you never thought you would and from people you thought you were teaching; but, at the same time, they were teaching you.

I am also incredibly fortunate for the awesome coworkers I have. I had so much fun getting to know them and learn from them, as well. It's a funny thing about being a teacher: as you are working so hard to teach others, you are constantly having people all around you pour lessons into you.

Sure, there were times when I really questioned why I went into this profession, but I think that can be the case with any job. It's hard to find something that is beyond perfect. By no means is teaching a perfect job, and by no means am I a perfect teacher. But it's quite apparent that this is the perfect thing for me. I absolutely love it.

However, that being said, thank God it's summer! Sure, we may love our roles as educators for the future of America, but we sure do need this time off. I'm pretty sure it's the only thing that keeps us sane.

Well, that and rolling chair races down the hallway on the last day of school.

My Bloody Strength

The other night, I discovered that I have superhuman strength.

I should preface this story with the fact that I don't use my dishwasher. I lack many domestic skills, and finding just the right amount of dish detergent is one of them. So, in order to avoid having not-quite-clean or soap-stained dishes, I hand wash everything I use. To avoid this task, I usually buy paper plates. (I know, I know: Go Green.)

But on Tuesday night, I was out of paper plates. And I needed a quesadilla.

Fast forward to a bit later in the night, when I decided I needed to wash my quesadilla plate before I went to sleep. Well, there was a little cheese stuck on the plate, so I knew I would have to take the sponge to it. And I did. Cue my Herculean power!

I made one quick stroke with the sponge, and the plate broke in half in my bare hands! I felt the pain in my hands from being sliced by the plate, and I saw the blood gushing into the sink, but I made no reaction for a brief time as I stared down at what had just happened. I was just so flippin' amazed at my brute strength!

It dawned on me that I should tend to my wounds, so I finally went to wrap my blood-gushing hands and cover them in bandages. I used Spiderman, Batman and neon Band-Aids, of course (yes, I needed that many). I'm not going to lie: it hurt pretty badly. I'm still missing that chunk of skin on my index finger that departed so suddenly.

These injuries have put quite a damper on certain parts of my life. Typing on the computer sure has been a bit more challenging than usual, seeing as how my multitude of Band-Aids slow me down and cause more typos. Then, when people see my awesome bandages, they naturally want to know why I'm covered in them. It's hard for me to stay humble in such situations. I mean, how can I not brag about how much of a beast I really am?

Needless to say, I'm buying more paper plates when I go to the grocery store this weekend.

Nap? Yes, please.

Obviously the Mavs are in some trouble right now.

We are down 0-2 to the Denver Nuggets, and I am not quite sure how the series will pan out. Sure, I love to have faith in my boys, but, let's face it, things are looking rather grim right now. I also don't like the fact that we went 0-4 against Denver in the regular season. Let's just hope this doesn't get even uglier in game three.

I also need Josh Howard to stop getting hurt. That would be super. We've dug ourselves into a hole, and he is one of the key components to help us climb back to the top. After all, as Miley Cyrus so poignantly tells us, "it doesn't matter how fast [we] get there, doesn't matter what's waiting on the other side; it's the climb."

In other news, I really want to get my book published. It's been about a year since I met with a publishing company, but it was a private one that was asking for way too much money. I am thinking maybe the best way to go about this would be to hire an agent. Hopefully there will be updates to come on this soon.

For now, I am just going to hope I make it through the day without falling asleep. I stayed up late for those Mavs, and all they did was disappoint me (well, that and leave me sleep deprived). At least it's already Wednesday, right?

Less than one month until summer vacation. What, what?!