The most wonderful time of the year!

I love Christmastime. Have I mentioned that? I work at a college and a public school district, so I don't have to work during the winter break. That means I've been spending all my free time engaging in my favorite activity, shopping! For other people, of course. I did buy myself a new black coat and a red purse, but the coat was only $23 (and it's so pretty...) and I had $70 in gift cards to DSW (best store EVER in so many ways, especially the rewards programs and the FB page, not to mention the pretty stuff!)

Tis the season for engagements as well, it seems. My Facebook newsfeed showed 4 engagements last week.  I will, of course, not be getting engaged anytime soon. And by soon, I mean not within the next 5-7 years if it happens at all. However, I do have a great boyfriend that I've been with for !? months! And by that I don't actually remember how long it's been. Since last spring. It's been more than 2 months, which is something to be said. My friends are astounded.

Probably the biggest reason I'm still with this guy is our shared interests. Sci-fi, bookstores, baking, cooking, getting drunk and being obnoxious, etc. When I got to his place yesterday for our Christmas stuff, he gave me a tart pan. With an apple pie in it.

And then we made Indian food for dinner. It was our first real attempt at making curries and all. So while it wasn't terrible, it wasn't great. Between our lack of ingredients and knowledge at what we could substitute, it was a learning experience.

Paneer in curry, rice, and a potato, spinach, and carrot dish.

If you mixed it all together and had low enough standards, it wasn't that bad. The pie was good.

On the joys of working with children.

Duct tape is like the force. It has a light side, a dark side, and it holds the universe together...
-Carl Zwanzig

I feel like duct tape should be issued out to any employees who have to work with children.
Teaching swim lessons, the kids want to wander off by themselves and drown. Not possible when they're duct taped into a lifejacket!
In a classroom, little Billy wants to throw a spit wad at poor Suzy. But  he can't with his hands duct taped to his desk!
And on the school bus, every single one of those little heathens wants to stand up and turn around and lean over the seats. Well, they can't do that when they're duct taped to their seats!

Yes. It was one of those days at work. I woke up with a swollen throat, so yelling at children was not something I wanted to be doing. In the days leading up to vacation, kids are 8 billion times more excited. Imagine how thrilled I was to drive 50 excited little brats around.

Don't get me wrong- I usually like them well enough. I'm not going to lie and say I love children, because I don't. I tolerate them. They're even cute and amusing at times. But when they're hyped up about Christmas and their teachers are pumping them full of cookies before so cruelly sending them out to my bus, I hate those little brats. And for some reason, they like to hug me. Especially when they just got back to school after spending a couple days at home sick, and they "missed Miss Jessica so MUCH!" So much that I deserve a big hug. Not a side hug. Not a fist bump (which I've attempted to make popular with these young, impressionable children in order to avoid hugs). They want to give me a giant hug *complete* with a kiss on the cheek.

No wonder I'm sick.

So, it hurt to yell, the kids were jumping all over the place, and I was dodging hugs and dealing with crazy traffic. A little duct tape would have been nice. AND, on top of all that, a few girls have decided that they'll start referring to me as "Momma." It was like I was living my worst nightmares.

My only saving grace in all of this madness that I deal with every day, the only reason I wake up at such an inhumane hour to go to work (besides the good money) is the ignorance of these children. I can tell them ANYTHING and they will believe me. Clouds are there to catch you when the Earth's gravity reverses. Santa calls me to see if you're being a good boy or girl. 8,475,902 x 331= whatever number pops into my head, as long as I say it with confidence. I could probably start a cult.
Last week as the kids were getting off the bus, I was saying my usual goodbyes, and I decided to add, "Watch out for the giraffes."
Most of the kids didn't hear me, like they don't hear me when I tell them to sit down or stop throwing that. A few of the older kids gave me a skeptical "you're a weird bus driver" look, but the next morning, one boy got on the bus looking quite disturbed. He asked me about the giraffes (which by then were completely gone from my mind), and told me that he had nightmares about them and was positive they were outside his window while he was trying to sleep. It took everything I had to look concerned and not bust out laughing.

People like me should not be allowed to work with children.

Not Quite Kosher

Welcome! I've spent many nights immersed in blogs, looking at recipes and stories of traveling and living life. I hope that my own blog will interest others like so many have engaged me.

I spent today baking, as is fairly customary these days. My boyfriend expressed interest in trying bacon chocolate chip cookies after we saw them referenced on tv. I hate bacon. I'm apparently one of the few people in the world that does. But Christmas is approaching and I'm making cookies for everybody instead of spending money and brainpower on presents for my close acquaintances and cheap friends. So I tried to make these bacon chocolate chip cookies.

I thought they were absolutely disgusting. But one of my roommates, Shaggy, didn't hesitate to try a couple. He agreed that there was room for improvement, but the concept was good. I made the chocolate chip cookie recipe on the back of the Nestle Tollhouse chocolate chip bag, substituting maple syrup for some of the sugar and bacon grease for some of the butter. And of course, I added bacon.

Do you see those disgusting bits of bacon?

I also made a bacon-free batch of cookies for myself after tasting one of these. The last time I ate bacon was in March. My mom's friend made these wonderful turkey pesto sandwiches with bacon in them. That woman is a cooking angel. She could put gravel in soup and I would probably still eat it and rave about how wonderful it is. She made bacon taste good.

After the cookies, I tried my hand at latkes. I'm not Jewish, but a lot of the girls in my sorority were, so I keep seeing these Facebook updates about Hanukkah and what they're eating. My latkes weren't that great. I didn't use a recipe. I thought one could just combine grated potato and flour and eggs and fry it up into a delicious potato pancake. Again, Shaggy gobbled it up. I focused quite intently on eating my applesauce.

Isn't everything supposed to taste good if it's fried?

That, ladies and gents, has been my Sunday. Laundry and cooking, like a good woman should. I'll be heading to church soon, like a good Catholic should. And then I may do something to shake things up a bit. Go cow-tipping or join an angry mob. It's not likely. But anything could happen.