Dear P90X,

I know I promised that we would have our first date tonight, but this migraine seems to have plans of its own. Can we reschedule for tomorrow?


Thanks,

LA

I'm pretty sure I'm single-handedly keeping Kleenex in business right now...

image via www.blowininthewind.com

I love fall. It is my very favorite season. I love the changing leaves, wearing pants and long sleeves, celebrating my birthday(!), college football season...I could go on forever.

BUT.

There is one thing about fall that I HATE. At least here in good ol' GA, the weather is crazy. This morning when I left for work it was 43*. When I left to get margaritas with the teacher crew (errr...I mean, go home? :))? It was 85*.

A 42* difference. In the same day. WTH?

So, thank you fall weather for stealing my voice and taking over my sinuses. Please make up your mind about your current state so that I can breathe and talk again. I really do love you, but I don't like you very much right now. Thanks.

17

Since my principal announced during morning meeting that today is my birthday, my students insisted that I tell them how old I am. I don't really want to tell them because I don't want them running home and telling their parents and having their parents doubt my ability because of my age. So I did the only logical thing.

I told them I was seven.

I told them that I'm in first grade just like them, so I must be turning seven just like they will all turn seven this year.

"You're not seven!" they shouted, "You're not a kid!"

"Yeah!" one insisted, "You're sevenTEEN! You're a teenager!"

And, to my room full of six year olds, that was a perfectly logical conclusion.

So scratch 25. I think I will be 17 forever. :)

25

Today I am officially old.

Bring on the quarter life crisis.