Fender Bender Vs. Trail Mix

Such-A-One came to my soccer game this week and afterward when we were walking out to his truck, we saw someone back their Jeep right into his truck.  We were only about 10-15 feet away and I kept thinking as I saw it getting closer and closer to his truck, “Oh, they’ll stop.”  Only one second before  the impact did I gasp.

Then… CRUNCH.

Do you want to know what Such-A-One did?

He went, un-offended, to the passenger side of his truck and got his bag of trail mix.  That was his first instinct… trail mix.

He did then take a look at the damage (which was minimal to none), calm the poor kid down who had hit the truck, and send the kid on his way… all while he munched his trail mix.

I told him afterward that I liked how he had handled it, i.e. without getting mad.  He seemed to think there was no other way of handling it.  But why would there be when you have TRAIL MIX?

Renaissance Man

Such-A-One is a Renaissance Man.  I told him so and he denied it, so I listed for him all the things he does well.  They are as follows (and probably a bunch I couldn’t even think of at the time):

~ Write

~ Law

~ Paint

~ Philosophy

~ Woodworking

~ Photography

~ Baseball

~ Personal training

~ Physical fitness

~ Hiking

~ Rock climbing

~ Ultimate Disc

~ Guitar

~ Teach

Silver Vs. Gold

New Friends Vs. Old Friends

I was telling my favorite 30 year-old man yesterday that I feel myself at a place in my life that I only crave to be with people who already love me. At this point, I said, I just feel even less interested in making new friends.  Perhaps this is me getting older.  I just want to be with people who I know will love me no matter what.

On another note, lately I have been sick.  That same 30-year-old man I mentioned above, has a habit of affectionately calling me a sick-denyer.  By that he means when I’m sick I won’t admit it, i.e. I deny that I’m sick.  Yesterday we were in his living room with his two dogs, Ramona and Karen, talking about my sick-denying.  I said to him, “I just don’t want to be a wuss.”

He looked at Ramona and Karen, laying there asleep, and quipped, “Girls, do you care if Eva’s a wuss?”  He then turned to me and shared the verdict, “Eva, none of us care if you’re a wuss.”

I thought that was super.

How Did I Know?

I gave a little boy a Christmas present today of a pair of camouflage gloves.  He LOVES camouflage, so he put them on right away.  When he realized they fit him perfectly, he was totally amazed.  Immediately he began inspecting the package and when he saw they were a youth size, he looked at me dumbfounded and said, “HOW DID YOU KNOW I WEAR A YOUTH SIZE??”

Believing in Santa

In my elementary school today, the kids were watching The Polar Express while they had an ice cream party for getting their multiplication tables.  During the course of this party, there was a lot of talk about Santa Claus, including honest-to-goodness elementary-style POLLS of believers to non-believers.

Later on, one of my favorite kids (who has Asberger’s, or so it is called for the time being) is sitting there munching on his ice cream and says to me…

Boy:  ”Miss Eva, do you believe in Santa Claus?”

Me:  ”Yes!  Of course!”

Boy:  ”Me too.  I think [Bobby] does too…”

He paused for a moment, looking at his ice cream, and then said with conviction…

“Me, you, and Bobby… we just never stop believing.”

 

 

Honest Opinions in an Elementary School

Kid:  Miss Eva, can I ask you something?

Me:  Sure…

Kid:  In your honest opinion, do I slouch?

The Big Event

I got hurt playing soccer last night — happily, only a sprained ankle, though I’m on crutches for the time being.

But getting crutches was not the big event of last night.

It was Such A One, who:

- literally, carried me to his truck from the soccer field

- took me to the hospital

- carried me into the ER

- sat with me in my hospital room

- held my hand

- took me home

- bought me pain-killers (cause I didn’t want to use the pain-killer prescribed by the Doc)

- got a cab to go back to the soccer field and drive my car home

- took out my trash and picked up my apartment for me, cause I had left it in a hurry and in disarray

- was just the best friend and help ever

Elementary School

The best and worst part of working in an elementary school is that there are children there.  Example of the best part was the kid today who whispered to me,

Miss Eva, don’t tell anyone I’m a ninja.

Well, Frankly

Well, frankly, sometimes I just want it to be easier.

This summer I worked really hard and long hours, and things went really well.

Now, I’m working really hard, really long hours, and things are not going well.

And it doesn’t help at all that I am so tired.  I hate getting You-Forgot-Such-And-Such-emails.  I wish I could just respond, “No, I did not forget it. I just can’t do everything.”

Thank goodness for the 26 succulent, wonderful hours at home in Ohio with Such A One.  It was really, really great to be at home in the peaceful serenity of my childhood home with my parents and Such A One.  While we were there, I kept commenting to Such A One how quiet it was.

That’s the upside, so I’ll end on that.

Hello.

Long time, no see.

Let’s see… do I have anything to say?…

I play Ultimate.

I play soccer.

Such-A-One is the Shiz Whiz.

Working 60+ hours a week again, but hopefully only until August-ish.

Oh, ran into Pickle Man the other day.  Totally random.

Playing with kids 25 hours a week, and by “playing” I mean: playing, breaking up fights, encouraging good behaviors, providing consequences for bad behaviors, playing lots and lots of baseball and basketball, high-fiving, dancing/showing my “moves like Jagger,” etc.

I’m watching the Lord of the Rings movies a lot lately.

Going to spend the weekend with Best Friend R, Her Husband, and Such-A-One at a lake in a few weeks.

I eat a lot of fruits and nuts.

I think a lot about swimming.