Kindergarten Flashforward

3 1/2 hours with twenty-six kindergartners and a vivid imagination lends itself to inventing a very fascinating future for each of the little munchkins. Take Jeffery, for instance. His nickname is "Kissy Boy"; he thinks he is quite the ladies' man. My own daughter has been given permission to plant a left hook on his nose if he ever tries to plant a kiss on her. Scoot about 14 years into the future and I can see good 'ol Jeffery spewing out the most lame pick up lines on poor, unsuspecting co-eds.
Then there is Dillon. Even at age six he holds the door open for the teacher, tells the other boys to quit chasing the girls, and shares his crayons with anyone at the table. Dillon, the future pediatrician who will never quite realize just how adorable he really is.
Of course, every class has a Shelby. I actually grew up next to Shelby's mom and always thought she was kind of mean. Is it inherited? Will Shelby's kids purposely give their fellow classmates the stink eye when they reach for a swing they were just about to take for themselves?
Elijah- well his mom already tells him which girls are marriage material for when he's older. My daughter is at the top of her list, so she's told me. Twenty years from now he'll probably be quite the cutie, but his mom is going to by way too involved in his dating life.
Then you can find the resident varsity athlete, class president, captain of the debate team,  found in sweet, tall, blonde Jocelyn with a genuinely nice smile for everyone. 
I almost forgot about poor, crazy little Matthew. He freaks out when the toilet flushes, the fire alarm sounds, or when glue gets on his hand. He is going to make some psychiatrist very, very rich some day. 
Rayn, is, by any account, too adorable and she knows it. Today she asked if I make my daughter call me 'mom' because she calls her mom Teresa. She's going to have her own business and be the one calling all the shots in her life. 
No way could I be a kindergarten teacher, but this afternoon was a pretty good time. Gotta love those crazy little kids!

Super Sniffer

As superhero talents go, mine would be my highly evolved sense of smell. A blessing and a curse. To demonstrate- something totally freaky just happened. The entire house is asleep but me. Nothing scented has been used at all today. No candles, no cleaning products, and definitely no men's cologne. Here is the freaky part. All I can smell in my bedroom, all of a sudden, is a very distinct men's fragrance. First thought- intruder mistaking my house for the location of his first jr. high dance. Second thought- ghost of fiance past. Third thought-I need to go to sleep when everyone else does. As for the cologne, it was gone almost as soon as it came, but I'm still a bit creeped out!

Who Am I Kidding?

Isn't there a John Travolta movie where he plays a good guy who takes the face of bad guy, a.k.a. Nicolas Cage? Most days I'm Travolta using my own face, some days I'm Travolta pretending to be Nicolas Cage, but other days I'm actually the Nicolas Cage character.  Don't we all to some degree have a Travolta and a Cage inside us? An angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other? At least some people perceive us however they want and don't quite get it right. At work I think I am perceived as a bit of a  Pollyanna, but I haven't decided if that is a bad thing. All day a song played in my head, and I don't even know if it is a song or I am just creating lyrics to actual Huey Lewis and the News music. Is it really Hip to be Square?

Tire Store Lobby

Yesterday I couldn't wait any longer to replace the brakes on our car, and because I had a 21 month old with me, I really couldn't read my book or walk somewhere (it was cold outside). So, I sat in a hard plastic chair for about 2 hours, keeping the baby occupied and watching a variety of customers walk in and out while getting a tire fixed or an oil change. I have spent many hours (and many dollars) in this lobby (I have very bad luck with tires and apparently am very hard on my brakes).

The place it truly gross. The walls are filthy- caked with oil and grease and covered with outdated posters for local events, companies that sell tire related products, and old plaques from when the store used to sponsor kids' soccer teams. A Sparklets water dispenser in the corner has most likely never been cleaned in between putting on the next bottle. A box of donuts from the shop around the corner contains the few remaining at 12:30- sure to have been fondled by a variety of non-hand washed customers and workers. You can literally see a layer of filth on the floor (not one you can drop a Cheerio on and claim the 10 second rule), and there is a scary candy dispenser that surely contains six year old candy beans.

Watching customers was almost as interesting as cataloging the disease ridden surfaces. For a while, two chairs down occupied a 30-something year old guy who truly thinks he hasn't left his 20's. His shoes were trendy, his sunglasses too expensive, his hair definitely not cut at the local chop shop for 11 bucks. He screamed single and spent his entire wait scrolling down his address list on his phone.

After he was rescued from the lobby, grizzled 40 something lady took his place. She wore gray sweats, thrift store tennis shoes, and hadn't comb her dyed blond hair that day. She reeked of cigarettes and spoke a few smoker octaves lower. At least she smiled.

Many others came and went while I sat there, but notwithstanding the surroundings, I enjoyed myself reading "Brown Bear, Brown Bear", making fish faces, and plying the toddler with Apple Jacks. What a way to spend nap time!