Think Seussical is Just For Children?

The Top Ten Most Important Questions Raised by Seussical the Musical


1. Child Abandonment: How lazy must one be to go on vacation and leave their child with someone the whole universe thinks is insane?

2. War: Is butter really worth the battle?

3. Interspecies Relationships: While we know the baby elephant-bird will be able to go to college on a full minority scholarship, how will he ever know which species to select on the entrance application?

4. Lap Sitting: How many laps can David sit on before audience members have to start tipping him?

5. Environmental Responsibility: What have you done to save a Truffula Tree today?

6. Moral Theology: Can Heaven and Solla Sollew peacefully coexist?

7. Tail Enhancement: How long is too long?

8. High Concept Theatre: Does Bonnie have a vision with the all-white set, or did Ed forget to paint it?

9. Short shorts: How short can a short short be before it becomes a panty?

10. Insanity: If the only two people who believe in you are a bird in a romper and an 11-year-old dressed like the Muffin Man, should you seek professional help?

 

Seussical the Musical: Raising important questions through November 18 at Theatre LJCC.

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7 Quick Takes Sunday

So I'm sitting here eating a banana popsicle (which is basically what I've been existing on for the past few days...like I'm over halfway through my box and I bought them yesterday. Stop judging me), and I was thinking about all the things that I think I'm going to blog about then never get around to.

So, since my banana popsicle binge is over-- FOR NOW-- I've decided to give you 7 "Quick Takes"... a blurb about all my brilliant blogging ideas that I just don't do because I'm lazy.

1.

So, last week I took a solo vacation.  I'm going to do more of that.  I was a little unsure how it would go just taking off completely on my own, but I'm obsessed now.  Maybe it's because for the past several years, most of my vacations have involved taking care of large groups of people.  But there was something so liberating about not having to worry about keeping anyone else happy.

2.

If you're ever on the newlywed game with me and you're asked what my favorite place on earth is, go with this.  Epcot.  At night.  Probably by myself.

3.

The only other acceptable answer to the newlywed question posed in #2 is Disney World with these people.  Yes, I missed having the Stars with me (including the ones not pictured. This is just a funny picture to me).

And Julia, I didn't ride the teacups.  So I will go with you *twice* next time to make up for it.

4.

While I was gone to Disney World, my BFF Lindsay (Lohan for those of you who are unclear) had some issues.  I knew I should have assigned someone to take care of her while I was gone.

She's been laying kinda low for a while,  and then I leave town and BAM.  I mean, no biggie:  She just might have skipped out on a $46,000 bill and then trashed a trailer belonging to Elizabeth Taylor.

She says it's a misunderstanding.  Of course it is, baby. We heart you, Lilo.

5.

I don't know why, but I found these excerpts from the 1979 Victoria's Secret catalog really interesting.  I mean, they're all like "Hey, we're just hanging out on a chaise lounge in our grandma's house with the dog.  You know, in our really sexy underwear that people don't wear when they're hanging out on a chaise lounge".  Enjoy.

6.

I've tried to explain to people for a long time how every priest has "a girl".  You know, they don't have wives, so they find someone to take care of them because--let's be honest--most of them ("them" being men) need it.  You never know if his girl is going to be his secretary, his assistant, an old lady in the parish who helps him out or someone on the staff who just took pity on him somewhere along the way and helps out. But if your job is like mine and requires you to get in touch with priests a lot, you learn that they all have "a girl", and their girl is totally the person to talk to if you need to get stuff done.

So, Father Alex is telling me about how his blackberry is a POS and he's going get a new phone.  He told me he's going get an iPhone (actually, he said he's going get one "where you do your finger across the bottom to turn it on", but we talk enough now that comments like that make sense to me.  I actually knew he was going to say he was getting an iPhone when he started with "Bonnie, I've been thinking about my phone...").

He told me that the man at the store was unsure about him getting an iPhone, and said "Well, given your level of knowledge, I think you're going to require a lot of assistance with an iPhone...", to which Father Alex responded:

"Oh, it's OK.  I've got a girl."

It's official.  I'm his girl.  PRAY FOR ME.

7.

(I originally wrote a different #7, but as I was re-reading the beginning I started craving another popsicle and this happened, so I had to change it)

We all know that I have an addictive personality.  It's not always a bad thing... that's why I focus on things so well.  If I'm going to do something, it's going to take over my life.  But I realized I hit rock bottom when I just had the thought "If I found out the world was ending tomorrow, I'd eat banana popsicles until I made myself sick".

So just be aware, if the world ends tomorrow, I will not be hanging out with those I love.  I'll be eating banana popsicles into oblivion.


So, there you go.  7 Quick Takes.  I can't promise this will be every Sunday, but I'll try to do it more often.

So, is there Mass today?

A conversation at my place of business.  Front office, also known as "where smart people go to die".

Me

Good morning! Question--Is there, or was there, Mass today?

Not Me

Good morning!

Me

Yeah... What time is (or was) Mass today?

Not Me

Well, it's the Assumption time. What do y'all call it?

(“Y'all” clearly meaning “Catholics”)

Me

Feast of the Assumption. I saw an article about it in my google reader this morning, and it reminded me that we were probably having Mass today.

Note to readers: Stop judging me. When you manage the twitter feed for a Catholic organization, you've got all kinds of weird stuff in your newsfeed. So hush.

...Do you know what time Mass is today?

Not Me

Feasts! That's it! I knew it was something like that, but I couldn't figure out exactly...

Me

...So, when is Mass? I need to go take pictures of the first school Mass.

Not Me

Father came in this morning and he went over to the church and said...

Me

(rudely interrupting, I'm sure)

...Is Father Alex at the church right now?

Not Me

Well, of course he is! They're having Mass right now!

I'm afraid that if I don't start hanging out with my friends more, I'm going to start thinking this is how conversations are supposed to happen.

Today at Hamburger Heaven...

...the girl asked if I'd like my order for dine-in or carryout, to which I responded "yes".  Realizing what I'd done, I then rambled an apology about how I'd been "editing video for 2 days straight at work which means I just stare at my computer screen and don't talk to anyone and so I've kinda, you know, forgotten how to talk to people".  

Yes, I told the unsuspecting cashier that I'd FORGOTTEN HOW TO TALK TO PEOPLE. Cause apparently, that's a skill you lose after 2 days with very little practice.

And this, friends, is why I shouldn't have a desk job.

Why Animals are Horrible Photography Subjects...

I tried to have a photoshoot with Baby the Cat to send to Holly in her absence.  You know, just to let her know we're doing fine.

Yeah. We're doing fine.


FAQ:


Who is Baby?
Baby is, in theory, Holly's parents' cat.  Holly has been cat sitting for around, oh, 5 years.  And sometimes I do it when Holly leaves town.

I thought you didn't like cats. What's up with that?
I don't like cats.  Baby and I have an unexplainable bond, which is clear from that picture.  She likes to dig her claws into my boob and then try to jump.  It's her love language.

Is your willingness to post pictures of yourself looking like this the reason you're still single?
Yes. Absolutely.

Do me a solid...

...and stop trying to have fun, light-hearted events themed to The Great Gatsby.

Do all you want themed to "Roaring Twenties".  I love a good flapper dress.

I'm not a fan of prohibition themed events, but if that's your cup of tea, FINE.

But for all that is holy, please don't tell me your party, baby shower or wedding is themed to The Great Gatsby.

Cause if it is, I feel suspiciously like I'm gonna spend the entire event dodging cars and asking people to kindly refrain from going near the pool.

IT'S NOT AN UPLIFTING STORY, GUYS. CUT IT OUT.

Tonight I Realized...

...that I'm turning into my mother. And grandmother. And every single woman in my family.

I'm coordinating a dinner that's being taken to a family who had a death in the family this weekend.  I have an entire storage tub full of food that was brought to me from various people tonight.  Like, it's full.

I'm still getting food from 2 more people tomorrow night, and going to Walmart to purchase for all the people who just gave me money.

I will have at least two full storage tubs of food, and probably more.

I just panicked and almost cooked something else, because I thought "WHAT IF IT'S NOT ENOUGH?"

These are normal-sized humans who are going to have food for, like, the next 3 months out of what we're taking them.

I guess it's my "love language", or whatever it is people talk about.  I'm pretty sure "food" isn't one of the love language categories, but it should be.

But, hey.  Now at least you know that if I invite you over for dinner, I must love you and stuff.

It's also possible that if I invite you for dinner, I've got food that's about to go bad.  But you can pretend like it's love...

Livin' on a Prayer

The other day at Taco Casa (I feel like a disproportionate number of my stories start with that phrase) I overheard the most brilliantly annoying, amusing & upsetting conversation. Two girls, about my age, are having lunch. One of the girls is pregnant...maybe barely enough that I would have been able to tell, but believe you me, I could tell from the conversation. It went along the lines of this:

“OMG and I'm SOOO excited. And I hope it's a girl because that will be SO. CUTE.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And if it's a girl I can dress her up in really cute outfits everyday and it will be SO. CUTE.”

“Absolutely.”

I was just listening to this new mom thinking, “Oh my God. She has NO CLUE. I mean, I'm not saying that I'm totally prepared to have kids because I'm pretty sure no one is actually prepared. But oh my God. She's in for the shock of her life”.

Now, I know I don't have children. However, I do have more experience with them than your average non-mom. Not only all my billions of children I've taught, but from my stint as nanny-extraordinaire to child-extraordinaire, Baby J.

I went back mentally to one particularly memorable day in the adventures of Bonnie & JoJo. (BTW, Anna, mom-extraordinaire to Baby J, has never heard this story because I couldn't bring myself to tell it. But it's time).

So, most days JoJo and I were BFF. Seriously. But we all have our days, and this was one of them.

We had opened the morning with our favorite song, “I CAN'T LIKE YOU TODAY, BONNIE. I CAN'T LIKE YOU!”.

She had already had at least 3 Martin Luther King peaceful protests, during which she lays flat on the floor motionless until I either a) give in, or b) threaten to stick my head in the oven if she doesn't stand up and cooperate.

And that day, of course, I had to go to the bank. Like, HAD TO GO. So, against my better judgment, I decide that we have to use the pre-nap window of opportunity and head out (Keep in mind, going anywhere from JoJo's house is an excursion. Believe me).

She might or might not have been wearing the shirt she slept in with elastic waist shorts. And I might or might not have told her to just run her fingers through her hair so we didn't have to brush it. And I'm positive I told her to just “grab some shoes and put them on in the car”. Like I said, we had a window of opportunity that we couldn't afford to miss.

So, we went to the bank. We went by the DQ, because me and Baby J keep it classy. And then we headed back.

From the backseat, I hear a tiny voice singing joyfully.

Pink...shoo yell...ashoo...Pinksh...oooyellash...ooo

Obviously, singing “I've Got the Joy Joy Joy Joy Down In My Heart” has PAID OFF. Because this child is now a musical genius. It should be obvious to all that she is doing a jazz-style scat solo in the backseat of my car. I'm watching a prodigy form.

Pink...shoo yell...ashoo...Pinksh...oooyellash...ooo!!!!!!

Then, it starts to click.

Hey, Jo, what are you singing?

Pink...shoo yell...ashoo...Pinksh...oooyellasho...ooo!!!!!!!!

No really, Josephine. WHAT ARE YOU SAYING???

Pink...Shoo...Yella...Shoo...Pink...Shoo...Yella...

Oh. My. God.

I turned to look, and there it was.

A Pink Shoe. And A Yellow Shoe. On her feet. After we had been in public. Twice.

So, that was what came to mind at the Taco Casa. Most days, JoJo was dressed perfectly. I french-braided that hair almost every day of my life for a couple of years (one of my lesser-known spiritual gifts...french-braiding on a moving target). It was SO. CUTE.

But some days, little pregnant girl, you're gonna be living on a pink shoe, a yellow shoe and a prayer.

Hope you're ready.

A Night in the Life--Aladdin, Jr. Edition

(Bonnie addresses her captive audience. Average age: 8)


Bonnie: Now, I need everyone to put your right hand over your heart.  If you are unsure which hand is your right, ask a neighbor.

Now, repeat after me. I, (say your name)...

Babies: I (mumbling which probably consisted of at least 5 people saying "say your name)...

Bonnie: Promise to NEVER...

Babies: Promise to NEVER...

Bonnie: EVEREVEREVER...

Babies: EVEREVEREVER...

Bonnie: touch anything backstage.

Babies: touch anything backstage.



Bonnie: I further promise...

Babies: I further promise...

Bonnie: to never *think* about touching anything, nor shall I sit on, breath beside or look longingly at anything backstage.

Babies: <<got a little unintelligible around here but I think the idea was there.>>



Bonnie: Now, we really can't ever touch anything backstage because backstage in a big theatre is pretty dangerous, you know? And we certainly don't ever sit on anything backstage.  Why not?

Smart Baby: Because it might roll away!

Bonnie: YES. Almost everything backstage rolls, and it might hurt you, or hurt someone around you, or pull down the curtains or something.  I mean, really bad things can happen when things start rolling.  So, don't ever sit on ANYTHING backstage.

Sassy Baby who is definitely not my BFF: Can we sit on the floor? [eyeroll]

Bonnie: No.  Now, that brings up a good point.  Why shouldn't we sit on the floor backstage?

Precious, Terrified Baby: (with horror in her eyes)

BECAUSE IT MIGHT ROLL AWAY!!!


So, ladies and gentlemen, the next time you meet a small person who is horrified that the floor of the theatre might roll away any second, you can thank me.

Hey...I think a little terror is good for kids every now and then.

Making My Heart Go Pitter-Patter

If you know me well, you know I’m a thrift store whore.  Like, really.  Now, don’t get me wrong.  I have a very specific list of things I will *not* buy at a thrift store under any circumstances... although I’m almost positive that my list is shorter than most.  Whatever.  I’ve got a strong stomach (just not strong enough for underwear or bathing suits if that’s what you’re thinking...although I totally did buy a bathing suit at the Unclaimed Baggage store, but I bleached it and stuff... whatever.  Not the point).

I’ve kind of got another list of things that I’ll almost *always* buy at thrift stores when I find them.  The list, at least as far as decorative items go, is pretty obvious walking around my house.

Colored Glass Bottles & Sturdy Wall Shelves

Paintable Picture Frames with any amount of Ornate-ness

Mirrors in an Interesting Shape

and, probably the newest fixation on my list,

CLOCKS.


And now, for the point of this post (using the term ‘point’ loosely since I’m not entirely sure my posts ever have a point).  I made a quick stop in the Lovelady Thrift Store the other day between work and rehearsal.  This happened.

HELLO.  I mean, seriously.  If it was possible to fall in love with a small, dresser-top clock, date it and take it home to meet my parents, this would be The One for me.  It is shiny.  It is ornate.  It has a pedestal foot.  It works (which ironically enough is one of my *major* qualifiers for falling in love, dating and taking ANYTHING home to meet my parents).  

Karen asked me recently if someone made my heart go “pitter-patter”.  I told her that my heart doesn’t go “pitter-patter”.

I was wrong. My heart *totally* goes “pitter-patter”.  Next step of 2012: be as emotionally open to people as I am to clocks.  But still...small, small victories.

And...she's back

Last night, my biffle Holly came over. I know she's a keeper because she remains my best friend even though I insist on using terms like “biffle” regularly. She's doing this show (Becky Shaw, which you should probably go see) in which she plays a character who she insists is NOT “like” me, yet dresses remarkably similarly.

So I dressed Holly from my closet for the show. We made it through the daunting task of me trying to explain to her what I would wear and how I would wear it (“Put this yellow shirt on under that DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT TRUST ME”). We ate. We drank. We talked.

Big Al (as I like to call my boss, the priest) has been OUT. OF. CONTROL this week. Just as a small taste, this week I said the words “No. We absolutely cannot play Kenny G nor a piano version of Stairway to Heaven as the underscore for your video blog”. If you find out that I'm not the only person in the whole world who said that sentence this week, I will challenge you to a duel.

Amidst all his general craziness this week, though, he said something Thursday that stuck with me. Out of nowhere, not related to anything at all, he said,

“You know, sometimes we're so busy looking for the miraculous. We forget that sometimes the ordinary is miraculous”.

So, that's it friends. This week has been AWFUL (not related to Big Al so much as general crazytrain I work on). And then you get what you need. A plain, ordinary night. Nothing extraordinary. Nothing miraculous. Just enjoying life.

...And trying to convince someone (H-Dawg) that, in my fashion world, yellow and pink are both to be treated as neutrals and it's perfectly acceptable. One of these days, you'll catch on. I believe in you and your ability to wear color.

P.S. I've got, like, 4 blog posts going right now. So get ready. I'M BACK.

What It Means...

The other night, I had a dream that my teeth fell out.

Yes. You heard that right. MY. TEETH. FELL. OUT.

One thing you should probably know about me is that I have extremely vivid dreams. Like, the kind where I'll get halfway through my day and truly have to stop and think about whether something actually happened or not. Even though they're very vivid and I almost always remember them, they're not usually BIZARRE. And this one, my friends, was BIZARRE.

So, I did a quick search on www.dreammoods.com, because, obviously, I need a full-time job. Between my research there and some careful reflection, I've decided that this dream must mean one of the following 5 things:

1.  I have anxiety about my appearance and how people perceive me.

Apparently, your teeth are like a mating symbol. Or something. Smiling. Kissing. Necking (did that site really just use the word “necking”? Whatever. I totally don't trust them anymore)

2.  I have an over-exaggerated fear of powerlessness.

Totally possible. I am a control freak. However, the rationale behind this is that teeth are used for gnawing, and I'm not sure I exactly follow their theory. So, maybe not this one.

3.  I'm going through menopause.

Menopausal women frequently dream about their teeth falling out. Who knew? Considering that I'm hot all the time, this is--so far--the most plausible of the options (which, considering that I'm 28, is kind of a sad state of affairs for www.dreammoods.com).

4.  I was exceptionally touched by the James storyline in That Championship Season.

The show's playing tonight at 8:00, tomorrow at 2:00 and next Thursday, Friday and Saturday at Birmingham Festival Theatre.  If you go see it, you'll get to see a couple of my favorite boys pretending like they could possibly have been basketball players, which is kind of funny in and of itself.  It's a really good show, and you should probably go see it, even though I'm almost positive that the teeth falling out was not a primary plot point. But what do I know? Oh yeah, I know musicals. That's what I know.

(Do you like how I totally just worked in a show plug during my blog about teeth falling out? I'm pretty much the best marketer I know...as well as the strangest person.)

5.  I am paying for laughing at a comment made to me in 2003ish.

One night at BSC, my dear and quite hilarious friend Katy looked at me and said “You sound like a black man with no teeth”. I would like to be able to tell you the backstory of why this was said, but I truly don't know.

All I know is that if this dream comes true, I'm 1/3 of the way there.

Every year when I get a new batch of kids...

...I spend some time reflecting on what must go through a parent's mind when naming their child.

I see a lot of kids each week.  I'm really grateful that the family name trend seems to be coming back, cause we've been needing a break from the crazy.  However, there are still a few (see also: A TON) of stragglers who insist on giving their children bizarre, bizarre names with even loopier spellings.

I feel like any parent who thinks they've come up with the "cutest" name for their unborn kid needs to ask themselves the following simple question:

Which one of the following scenarios sounds more likely with this name inserted?


"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the podium our new CEO <insert name here>, who will be working hard to protect the fiscal future of our company!"

or

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome, to Pole #7, the hot and sexy <insert name here>, who will be working hard for those dollars!"



An honest answer to that simple question could save so many children from awful, awful names.

Today, I uttered the words...

..."I'm having some birth control drama at Walmart".

I sort of feel like that's only a breath away from "I'm having some baby daddy drama at the Dairy Queen".

It's a slippery slope, my friends. A slippery slope.





P.S.--YES I recognize that this is my second post in a row referring to Walmart.

DON'T JUDGE.

How valuable must something be...

...for you to go after it if it drops in the toilet...AT WALMART.

Today at Walmart, I overheard a girl talking about how her bellybutton ring fell out and landed in the toilet.  It was kind of a weird story, and I was about to stop eavesdropping when the story took a turn for the horrible. Girl with the bellybutton ring admitted loudly and proudly that she went in after it.  Let me repeat that: she went in after it. SHE STUCK HER HAND IN A WALMART TOILET.  She justified her abhorrent actions by saying that she hadn't used it yet, and "body jewelry is, like, super expensive".

So, I started reflecting on the more meaningful questions in life, such how "How valuable must something be for you to go after it if it drops in the Walmart toilet?".

Feel free to discuss amongst yourselves.  There are no wrong answers.  I will probably, however, never touch you again if your answer is valued at less than $200.

Me personally?  If I dropped my UTERUS in a Walmart toilet, I'm not going after it.  But that's just me.

I sure ain't Martha Stewart...

...but I'm baking two cakes this weekend.  The cooking/baking gene runs rampant in my family.  Like, several people run businesses that involve baking.

I, unfortunately, did not get the gene that makes you good at cooking-type activities.  I also did not get the gene that makes you enjoy cooking-type activities.  I really don't like to cook, which, let's be honest, probably stems from the fact that as a general rule I don't like to do things I'm not good at.

This will be my first solo attempt at a Coca-Cola cake, as well as my first-ever attempt at a completely new cake (can't ruin the surprise by telling you what it is).

The bright side to my solo attempt is that at least I won't have my grandmother yelling about how I'll "never get a husband if you don't like to cook" and how she "can't possibly help you if you insist on using your left hand".

I'll document with pictures.  Wish me luck.

When Things Fall Into Place

We’re all friends here.  Let’s not put on airs.  Big the Musical has been a long time coming.  You’ve all heard all about it.  I know, you’re sick of it, it’s fine.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve listened to that CD.  You would probably fall over if you had any idea how many hours of AT&T airtime have been used talking through the show with David.  Seriously.  It’s upsetting.

Guys, it got REAL tonight.  I’m sitting there in the LJCC looking at one of the most truly talented casts I’ve ever seen.  I’ve rattled off the list of names over and over. It's become almost automatic. I list people in the same order almost every time. I have my canned explanation of who the people are that you might not know. I still shriek a little bit when I say a couple of the names, but it's still automatic. 

I walked into the LJCC tonight, and THERE THEY WERE.

People I have grown up watching on stage.  People that I have watched grow up.  Some people that I’ve never worked with.  Some of my best friends in the whole world, because let’s be honest, if I am good at only one thing in life it is surrounding myself with people who are a whole lot more talented than I am.  

Everyone greeted each other "old home week"-style, and I just sat there realizing this is really it. We're really all going on this adventure together. When I was in the ensemble of Big, the Musical 10 (10! AHH!) years ago, I would have *never* guessed that tonight would happen, and that I would be so lucky. 

Thanks for trusting me, guys. We’re totally gonna pull this off.  I’M READY.

Why I Love the Royal Family...

I ran across this picture of Kate...excuse me...CATHERINE Middleton today.

Want to know my first thought when I saw this?  "Oh I love that dress.  I totally want it.  Although I suspect I would need her entire body for it to look right.  And that hat.  It's so...understated."

I used the word "understated" to describe that hat.  UNDERSTATED.

But, by English standards, that hat is totally understated.

If I showed up at a party wearing that hat, people would be like, "Nice headpiece, dingbat" and then they'd spend the rest of the evening discussing (in not-so-hushed tones) who just won the betting pool on when I would officially flip my lid.

Oh, to be British.  And, you know, married to the future King of England.

Apparently it's a good thing I have a blog since I can't afford therapy...

I'm just going to give a little warning...this one may get a little deep.  I know, I know how can a post about the Leeds Outlet Center get deep?  Whatever, stick with me.  It's all gonna be just fine.

On Tuesday night, I took a little trip out to the new(ish) outlet center in Leeds.  Shops of Grand River or some nonsense like that.  I LOVE outlet centers.  I think I love them so much because of the thrill of the hunt.  To me, an outlet center is more thrilling than, say, a thrift store.  Why?  Because not everything at an outlet is a good price (I know the same thing can be said of a thrift store, but it's more prevalent at outlet centers).  There is lots of stuff at outlet centers that is tragically overpriced.  But if you'll just stick with it, you can find some great deals. My words of caution before going is to know how much things are supposed to cost.

Anyway, the whole place is kind of fancy.  Waterfalls, stone walkways, etc.  Tons of stores, and lots of "useful" ones.  I hate it when I go to outlet centers and there are, like, 5 sunglasses stores.  Really?  Who buys $100 sunglasses at an outlet?  Whatever.  This one had good stores.  Standouts include a good Rue 21, Rack Room (or something comparable...decent prices), Vanity Fair Outlet and a fabulous Book Warehouse.  Usually, I hate bookstores at outlets.  They're almost always "reject" books, for lack of a better term.  I spent probably 45 minutes looking through this store.  You're not going to find the top 10 in there, but I had actually heard of a lot of the books.  Most books were priced in the $2.99-$5.99 range.

Now, one of my "goals" of this trip was to buy some new bras.  Please don't leave just because you're uncomfortable with that...stick with me...it's not going to be all about bras.  Went into the Hanes store...don't waste your time.  Thought I was out of luck when at the very end of my journey, I spotted it: the Vanity Fair outlet.  For those of you who remember, there was one in Boaz (which used to be the discount shopping mecca of the world).  So I happily trot in and start looking.

I start sifting through the racks and racks full of bras, and I'm noticing that I'm having trouble finding anything in my size.  Like, having trouble finding anything close to my size.  I mean, I'd find one every now and then, but nothing of note.  These were not "bargain bin" type setups where you now it's all the reject things.  Everything was hanging very nicely on racks, ordered by size.  The biggest size (if you were lucky enough to find it) would pretty much be a 36C or so.

And then, I found my size.  Oh, I found them all right.  The full figured bra section.  Freaking full figured bras.  Seriously.

Disclaimer:  I understand that I am not teeny tiny.  I understand that I need to lose some weight.  I understand that I have big boobs for my size.  I understand  that I have the biggest ribcage in the world which makes me have to wear a bigger band size even when I'm not fat.  I've got it.

However, buying a bra from this line...

...is not OK.  That's right, my friends.  That says DELTA BURKE.  Now, I'm not slamming Delta Burke.  I ADORE Delta Burke.  I think she's BEAUTIFUL.  However, I've never really thought we were, shall we say, "built" alike.

Obviously, my first reaction was to crumble a little bit.  I, like most dancers I'm pretty sure, have some body image issues and I recognize it.  Holly and I have been working on it lately.  I have a tendency to grab a size large when I'm out shopping.  I'll try on Holly's clothes (which are all smalls or mediums) and they fit.  I think I automatically pick up the larges because a) I know they'll "fit" and I won't have to go get a bigger size, which is somehow more depressing to me than just getting the bigger size to begin with, and b) let's be honest, that's how I see myself.

I got over myself pretty quickly and went ahead with my shopping.  I pep talked myself (in the middle of the VF outlet in Leeds...it was a sad sad sight) and decided that a "38C" or "36D" is the same size whether or not they are in the "full figure" section.  I went ahead with my purchases (I mean, 3 bras for under $20...I can't afford to get hung up on body issues when they are that cheap) and was on my merry way.

I was walking back to my car when I started thinking about why I crumble when I hear "full-figure" or "X-Large" and stuff like that.  Every bit of my body image issues relate to how other people have projected it on me.  When I was in college, I was tiny.  Like, TINY.  However, even when I'm tiny, I've got big boobs.  I've got a wide ribcage.  I've got huge thigh muscles.  So, it always looks like I could lose some weight.  I can still vividly tell you about being pulled into one of the dance professors offices and hearing:
    
      "You have such pretty feet and legs...if only you could lose some weight..."
      "You have such beautiful musicality...if only..."
      "You have such good turn-out...if only..."

Which all translated in my mind to:
       "You'd be such a successful person... if only..."
       "You'd be so good at what you do... if only..."
       "You'd be so pretty... if only..."

So, I made a stop on the way out of the outlet center.  I went back to my little Book Warehouse and bought a book I'd been tempted to buy on the first trip.  See, I'm around middle school and high school girls all the time, both at school/work and with MYCA.  I have a unique relationship with them, in that, well, we talk about things.  Things that I say, both about them and myself, will stick.  And I've seen firsthand how much what other people say changes your own perception of yourself.  Even though they're not my daughters (as the cover of the book suggests), I think it's still important for me (and all of you others out there who work with teenagers) to think about.

So, I'm the proud new owner of this:

you'd be so pretty if... teaching our daughters to love their bodies--even when we don't love our own

I'll let you know how it goes, and I'll be glad to pass it on to all you teacher-types...

...And I promise, the next blog will be a little lighter :).

On College and Loans and Debt and Such...

I frequent a couple of discussion boards.  Judge if you must.  Now, I must make sure the record shows that I *never* actually participate in discussions on these boards.  I’m honestly not sure if that makes the amount of time I spend on these boards more or less pathetic, but it is what it is and I’m totally confident in my online time wasting skills.

Anyway, on one of these discussion boards, I found this (paraphrased for the purposes of this blog) little gem of a thread starter:

My son is thinking of marrying this girl who has $85K in student loans.  Should he marry the poor, stupid idiot who has more debt than him?

OK, I might have paraphrased a lot.  But whatever.  The point is some poor innocent little girl somewhere has her potential future mother-in-law a) talking to her son about personal financial details, b) posting these personal financial details on a freaking Disney message board and c) using phrases like “thinking of marrying” when he’s probably already proposed and Mama just can’t handle it.  I feel certain this future mother-in-law also freaked out the first time her son got sick and told her that his girlfriend had already bought Tylenol, Gatorade and chicken soup and her Mama services were not needed.  

That’s totally not the point of this post.  I just get a little sidetracked with mother-in-law related posts. SORRY.

The thread took a turn for the ugly and everyone started weighing in on whether you should have that much student loan debt.  As always happens on this particular message board, you have several holier-than-thou Mamas who jump in to talk about how their kid is doing two years at community college before going to a four year school because it’s cheaper.  Now, I don’t know anything about their personal financial situations (and obviously I don’t need to know because I’m not them...or their future mother-in-law).  However, this discussion comes up frequently and I never get the impression from these families that the problem is affording a four-year college.  The issue is that they don’t think it’s “worth it” since you can go to the classes at a cheap community college and then transfer them in.  

Why would you pay more for a four-year college when you can get the same thing at a two-year?

And that’s where I have issues.  Because, when it comes down to it...it’s not “the same”.  

I MUST HAVE A DISCLAIMER HERE:  I have ABSOLUTELY NOTHING against community colleges.  I went to one last year.  I think that there are probably a lot more kids who should start at a community college.  It’s a chance to “ease” into college for those who aren’t quite ready, whether emotionally or academically.  I THINK THEY’RE GREAT.  

I personally would have been miserable had I gone to a community college for the first two years of school.  I know that will not be true for everyone but, let’s be honest, this is my blog so it’s really about me. I had one academic professor at Jeff State who truly made me think (shout-out to Dr. Black).  I can’t name a professor at BSC who didn’t make me think.  I had a teacher at Jeff State (I can’t call this man a professor because I’m 99% sure he took a YouTube course on teaching) who told me over and over that my thoughts were wrong and invalid.  The thing is, this was for a course on analyzing movies.  The question was “What do you think Hollywood wanted us to get out of this movie?”.  I’m sorry, if you ask me what I think about something you can’t tell me I’m wrong unless a) I’m so in left field that it’s obvious I never even watched it or b) I can’t defend or justify my statement.  In his mind, I was wrong because I didn’t think the same thing he did.

I went to a four-year school straight out of high school.  I went to an expensive four-year school.  I have loans.  I don’t care how long I’m working on those loans. I don’t care what side jobs I have to take to pay them off.  I wouldn’t trade my time at BSC for the world.  It was the right choice for me.  I needed to live in the dorm.  I needed to join a sorority.  I needed to be immersed in an environment where the professors care, and your opinions are valid (even if they’re not “right”).  It was right for ME.  And that’s the important thing.  You’ve got to be at a school where you fit.  I may have a ton of student loans (although no where near 85K), but I’m a completely different person than I would have been otherwise.

And BTW, they told the future mother-in-law that she sucked and she should get her crazy-train nose out of her son’s business.  All is right in the world.