a new hobby? hmm...

"Does the flower get thirsty too, or is it just the root that needs water?"
Honest question from me, a gardening simpleton.

With my new place came flower beds and flower boxes. The seller informed me that "those flowers in the walkway are yours to care for." Great, I thought. It's not that I don't think the flowers are pretty, I just don't want to be responsible for keeping them alive, let alone responsible for the aesthetics of the walkway that I share with five neighbors. My gardening resume is shallow - ranging from carrying plants to pulling weeds to killing a bamboo plant. I have never even bought a plant. I'm just being honest.

With some serious consideration, it seemed fake flowers would be the best option for the flower boxes - no financial or time commitment needed on my part. They'll last, they'll look real from far away, and they will not die... so my mom went shopping for some and comes home with some gerber daisies, some green leafy plants, a sprawling flowering plant, and something else called "silver fog." Fake? Nope, they're real.

So here I am, three weeks into my new place and watering my flowers every morning (almost). They are alive. They have blooms. The soil is moist. And today I received my first compliment on my flowers. I was kind of proud.

I hate to generalize, but I'm pretty sure gardening is for women older than forty ... so I'm wondering, just what have I gotten myself into?

the ring.

I never use to look for it. I could hardly remember what hand it goes on. I was quite oblivious. But things are changing. I am quickly realizing that looking for the ring is crucial - and spotting it can be a real bummer.

Case in point...
A really cute guy had caught my eye in the computer lab at my school. Everyday that I had class, I would see him, and we often would catch eachother in eye contact. I thought to myself, I need to strike up a conversation with this guy. So, I finally work up the nerve to say something ... I see him in the computer lab ... I sat within chatting distance ... I glance over and remember to check the left hand ... and sure enough a wedding band. Case closed. This guy is off the market. Bummer.

So I'm learning. Check the left hand. Not only is it an availability indicator, but awkward conversation preventer for sure. It's a must.

ode to summer.

Has it really been 2 months since something eventful happened in my life? Hardly. But it sure was busy. I have 8 days left with my middle school lovelies, I'm purchasing my first home, and I have found the man of my dreams...

The last part isn't true, but it has a nice ring to it.

Summer has just about kicked off ... summer classes, sand volleyball, weeknights of just being outside, and weekends of running, riding, and swimming. I love it and cannot wait for more.

So here's to summer... to the sun, the clouds, more posts, and a nice glass of wine on my new balcony!

i'm back.

Okay. I'm back. I'm ready for more. Spring fever? Probably. It always used to happen to us in college...

it has reached a new level.

My students - my 11-12 year old students - have decided that Mr. Parker and I would make a great couple. Yeah, that's right, my students are trying to match me up. The same students who call me "Mrs." believe that he and I would be cute together. When the second student in one day informed me that we would make a good couple, a different student overhead only to chime in with, "Yeah, thats what everyone is talking about!" Well shoot, doesn't that make me feel so special.

I thought it was pretty funny to be set up with a personal trainer, let alone a guy named Buck... But that was nothing compared to my students stepping in for the next set-up.

funny memories

To much of my dismay, in college it was rare to see a hot-guy around campus. They were on the endangered species list. It may have been the fact that it was a "brainy" university or maybe because it was so frigid most of the school year that everyone was in survival mode - either hiding out at home or hiding underneath layers of clothing, scarfs, and hats. Seeing a hot-guy, or even just a cute guy, was so rare in fact that my friends and I would document any such spotting of a hot-guy and quickly report the sighting to a friend. The conversation could go something like this:

Spotter of hot-guy: I saw a hot-guy today.
Recipient of hot-guy info: WHERE?!
Spotter of hot-guy: At the bus stop in front of the union around 10am. He was blonde and kind of tall, athletic looking. Have you seen him before?

The way we acted, you would have thought there were only 6 hot guys on the entire college campus of 25,000 undergrad students. Actually, now that I think about it, 6-10 is probably more accurate.

It was a good thing our sports were fun to watch.

break time.

I'm taking a break. No more set-ups, match-ups, blind dates, or awkward first meetings. Sure you tell me, "you never know, the next one could be the right guy..."

but if he's the right guy, then he'll show back up when the break is over. For now, I'm on a definite recess.