The Giving of Thanks- Part 3

We arrived in St. Louis around 830pm local time- after packing all the food we could carry, getting an oil change, some books on tape from the library, and stopping for a BBQ dinner- at the lovely Crowne Plaza.

This is how you save money on a trip.

As we walked in, there was a sign taped to the door announcing a Thanksgiving Day Parade in the morning, right in front of the hotel.  We decided to take it easy Wednesday night and spent the evening reading and relaxing in our very uncluttered hotel room with a gorgeous balcony overlooking the street where the parade happened to be traveling in the morning.  Perfect.

Thanksgiving morning we got up and enjoyed the warm weather on the balcony while we watched the parade for several hours, drinking coffee and eating granola bars, cake, and pudding.

There was Garfield:

Louie the Lightening Bug:

And a few Christmas favorites:

It was so much fun spending a quiet, entertaining morning together.

When the last piece of confetti hit the ground and the crowd dispersed, we walked down the street over to the arch and down the river.

We ate some high-end Thanksgiving lunch with the homeless of St. Louis (we were actually informed that there was a free Thanksgiving meal across the street if we wanted some): 

Afterwards we walked through the city for nearly three hours, checking out the beautiful architecture and the amazing greenspace the city has preserved within its limits.

Our favorite spot in the city was the this small sculpture park right downtown:

Our route looked more or less like this:

Then we went back to the hotel, took a nap, and got ready for a delicious hotel Thanksgiving dinner.  The dinner was definitely the only depressing part of our trip- it was me, Mr. Peaches, a guy eating alone, and eye-patch guy eating with his son.  And the workers.  :(  But the day was so warm and so great that it quickly overshadowed our depression.

After dinner we walked around the city some more, and wandered upon a teeny tiny casino.  Since we were on a budget, I grabbed our only cash out of Mr. Peaches's wallet- $1- and quickly stuck it into the penny slots.  Oh man, did we walk out winners!!

SIX BUCKS!  That's a 600% PROFIT.  HULLO.

We cashed out quickly and headed back to the hotel with our winnings to read and relax.

And that was The Peaches' Turkey Day 2011.  Perfect.

The Giving of Thanks- Part 2

Mr. Peaches and I had already been talking about taking a day trip during the long weekend after we returned from Thanksgiving with his mother- somewhere we could get to and back from on one tank of gas, and where we wouldn't have to spend any money on hotels.  One of us is still a college student, after all, and we need to save money at every turn.

Wednesday morning around 8 we began discussing our Thanksgiving Weekend options.  Eight turned into nine, and nine turned into ten.  I was getting antsy about all of the discussing and lack of decision-making. I started plugging numbers into Priceline's hotel options- choosing cities at random and trying to score a super-cheap hotel.  Nashville, Niagra Falls, Charleston (West Virginia), Pittsburgh, Detroit... I just kept trying while Mr. Peaches kept talking.  There was no way I would be able to find a 3.5-4 star hotel in one of these cities for less than $50/night.

But then I did.

I slammed the laptop lid down as I so often do when I am getting important information (see: Mr. Peaches LSAT scores, My Praxis results).  I looked at Mr. Peaches, who was still researching our options on the couch across from me.  An expletive crossed my mind as I realized I would now have to tell Mr. Peaches where we would be spending our Thanksgiving:

"I guess we're going to St. Louis," I said with an unsure smile.

"Um, when?" He replied.

"Right now.  Let's get moving."

Two hours later we were out the door, on our way to St. Louis, a hike-and-a-half away.

The Giving of Thanks- Part 1

Thanksgiving has always been an uncertain time for me.  It started around 2004 or 2005 when I split up with my boyfriend of the time right around Thanksgiving, which I was supposed to spend with him at his house. I was going to school on the East Cost.  Mama Peaches and my younger brother had recently moved to Hawaii.  My father was in Florida (and I wasn't very interested in spending Thanksgiving with him and his wife anyway).  My next closest relative, my aunt, lived in the midwest but celebrated Thanksgiving with her husband's family.

Mama Peaches, desperate I spend Thanksgiving with SOME semblance of family, bought me a flight out to my aunt's house for a very interesting Thanksgiving.  I continued to spend Thanksgiving with my uncle's family every year, and grew to love their very Cleaver gathering: Writing down the things for which they are most thankful (and then guessing to whom the thanks belong), allowing the youngest children time in the spotlight, no disagreements or passive aggressive tensions. 

Since meeting Mr. Peaches, we have spent two Thanksgivings at his mother's house, and one year at The Cleavers.  The plan this year was to spend the holiday again with his mother, just a few hours away, but she called on Tuesday to say that she had been sick and didn't think she would be able to cook or host. 

The Cleavers were going out of town this year.

My parents were eating at a friend's house.

Predicament.

And that's when William Shatner showed up.

The Boda

Our wedding wasn't perfect.

The only flower-related item I cared about at all was a tall, expensive arrangement on the dessert table.  Before the guests arrived during set-up, the vase was unpacked, then immediately dropped and shattered on the floor.  An alternative was quickly found, and I think I cared for about .3 seconds.

Several guests who RSVP'd that they would attend didn't come.  One "got a flat tire."  One couldn't make it out due to some sort of legal issue (?).  Two couldn't find a sitter (??).

And it stormed.  Oh, did it storm.
I obsessed about the weather for months leading up to our wedding day.  The last update I got was that it would be hot- really freaking hot (98?)- and there was about a 15% chance of thunderstorms, if I remember correctly.  It sprinkled for a few minutes during our first look but quickly stopped and the sun never stopped shining.  As Mama Peaches, my stepfather and I stepped onto the aisle a sharp, loud crack of thunder eerily sounded off.  This is what it looked like toward the end of our ceremony:

I didn't notice, but a storm was definitely a-brewing.  

After the ceremony Mr. Peaches and I took a brief walk to soak it all in alone.  We took a few more pictures and talked with a couple of guests.  Then the rain started.  But it didn't just start, it dropped down in buckets from the sky, which was lit bybright bolts of lightening.  Our fantastic day-of coordinator and the rest of the staff rushed everything inside, where we watched from here:

It wasn't perfect.  

But it was gorgeous.  And fun.  And the food was delicious.  Watching our friends become friends made us so proud to know such awesome people.  And I think the storm made it even more beautiful, though we did pay a pretty penny to watch the night skyline of our lovely city from outside.  Every moment was amazing.  And now I'm married to someone way out of my league.  SUCKA! 

It's Challenging

I love my job.

I mean, seriously.  I love my job.

I get to laugh- a lot.  I get to cut and laugh and color and laugh and make jokes that no one in the room understands and laugh and pat kids on the back.  I get to laugh and smile my way through the day.

Unless I don't.  I have one period of students who make my blood boil.  I try so hard to greet them warmly each day, and pretend to be so excited that we're going to sing a song I've already sung four times that day.  Almost every day I am animated and happy and I smile at them.  Six or seven minutes in I can feel my blood pressure rising.  They won't stop talking.  They won't listen.  They're disrespectful.  I'm out of ideas. I don't know what to do.  I have no control and they are only eleven.

The worst part is when I have a day like today- I yelled and they yelled back.  After I dismissed the class, one sixth grader screamed at me for a full minute at the top of his lungs.  Then I had to greet another sixth grade class: smiling, happy, excited.  I have to pretend nothing is wrong.  The inability to decompress just compounds my frustration and I need a break.

The good news is that it's only 50 minutes.  The very worst part of my day is only fifty minutes long and then it's over.  The rest of my day is stellar.  But those fifty minutes are so freaking tough.

And when I thought I couldn't take one more day this week I prepared my sub folder, stuffed with worksheets and instructions.  Then three students stayed for tutoring.  And two parents (!!) told me, "I appreciate you."  And the frustration melted away and I gained a little perspective.

And I remembered that tomorrow is another day.  And actually, not just any other day but Friday.


Friday.


Phew.

Sixth Graders

"Señora Peaches you called susana and I looked and I wasn't even talking and then you wanna say 1 (recess detention) and then I say what I do you say 2 (recess detentions) and then I walked right over to the poster and when I walked up to it to look @ it I said I hate this class and I also said always gettin in truble for nothing man I Hate It! And you say be quiet or im'ma write you up I said yay maybe If I try my hardest to be stupid she will congrate me!  And then the bell rang you told us how long we hace recceswith you I said OK and walked out maybe if you guys have camars in your rooms then I wouldn't have get smart with you! So yea, and you can call my mom if you would like cause I have witnesses to prove I wasn't talkin or playn or not even doing my work and I belive I didn't even inter up your class my moms number is xxx-xxx-xxxx (yes, she included the area code) and my dad is sick but you can still call him if you like!

THANK YOU have a good day!"

Within minutes of putting this note on my desk- which I hadn't even had time to read- this little girl looked at me with a big smile and said, "Nevermind about my note; I like this class now!"

I love my job.

I'm a Nut, Ha Ha

Make fun if you will, but one thing I always loved about going to my grandmother's house as a child was her basket of unshelled nuts.  I didn't really understand that each type of shell contained a specific type of nut- to me, each time I sloppily cracked one open with her shiny silver nutcracker was like unwrapping a Christmas present.  What could be inside‽  


I mostly forgot about grandma and her nuts (see what I did there?), and I think it's because I've never seen bulk unshelled nuts in any of my local grocery stores.  Always shelled.

Last weekend, Mr. Peaches and I went shopping at our local fancy grocery, the one that is a slightly longer drive than going to the store near us, but the rewards in the gourmet cheese section are great.  As I picked up a pack of shelled walnuts I keep on hand for cooking, I told Mr. P about my grandma's nuts (it doesn't get old) and how I wanted to be one of those couples who always have unshelled nuts and a nutcracker around.  Classy.  Fun.  Totally normal for twenty-somethings.  Or something.

Today we went back to that fancy grocery, on account of the cheese, and there,  right in the middle of the produce section was a huge display of a variety of unshelled nuts.  And in the middle of that glorious display were the shiny silver nutcrackers.  It's like they're listening!


I didn't hem and haw too long before breaking down and picking up two pounds worth, as well as my very first nutcracker.  Finally- we're classy! fun! normal!

We got home and I put away the groceries, saving the nuts for last.  I scoured the house for a cute basket or bowl in which to put them, and finally found a basket leftover from the wedding.  I poured the nuts into the basket- it's just the right size!  It contains two pounds of various unshelled nuts perfectly.  Then I checked around for our first nutcracker... which, apparently, was no where to be found.

I looked in the bags I stuffed away- nope.  I looked in the trunk of the car- nope.  I looked on the floor, on the table, on the counter, and on the stove- nope, nope, nope, and nope.

I have a basket of nuts and no nutcracker.  Not classy.  Not fun.  Not normal.

This is how we're gettin' by until we can stop back by the store:

And that's what I get for trying to be like my crazy old grandma.