Some times

One time I was so into a television show that I forgot to turn the burner off when I removed my finished ramen noodle dinner from the stove (We were still students, and Ches was waiting tables that night, so naturally that was what I was eating). A potholder was touching the burner. The apartment was completely filled with smoke before it tore my attention away from the screen in order to prevent my fiery death.

One time I didn't notice a hole in my black tights until we were on our way out the door to church. I grabbed a sharpie and colored my skin underneath to hide it. I took the marker with me in case the tights shifted. They did. C still teases me for walking around with big black marker moles on the back of my legs for a couple of days.

One time I dropped my phone on my one month old child's face. Avoid being over-zealous about baby photos.

One time I had to throw up (morning sickness ruuuuules) at the school before my students arrived. Apparently my skirt was a little tight because the slit ripped all the way up to my mid-bum. I had to waddle back to the classroom clutching my behind while trying to stay slinked against the walls. I re-learned two things, I can arch my back really well, and safety pins are a good tool.

 

The Shining Gem

The most important thing I took away from my weekend may have been this wisdom from one of the shoeless five year old boys in my primary class.

"Sister Lewis, this sock, smelling it, that would not be a good thing."

Composure....yeah. I have that.

9:24 am: I walk innocently and intently toward the Library at Logan High School to meet with my professor concerning my Teaching English Methods class. The floor is slick. The bottom of my right shoe is slick. It is a good thing I am flexible. I am pretty sure those high school students were really amazed to see a teacher doing the splits in the hallway laughing hysterically. I did not appear insane at all.

11:24 am: I walk into the Taggart Student Center listening in a very concentrated way to how one of my heels clicks on a distinctly different tone than the other one does. I open the door to the employee entrance of the bookstore forgetting the slippery nature of my right shoe's belly. I do a slick little dance with a grand wave of my arms for those, my comrades, in the hallway.

11:29 am: I hold a bowl of steaming chicken fried rice in one hand, and walk heavily to my office. The cement floors should be safe and not slippery. I reach to open the door and my mischievous little shoe slips and I see all of my rice fly up into the air. Luckily, my much more reliable and highly favored left shoe kept me on course, and I caught all the rice again in the bowl in an extremely ninja like fashion.

Needless to say my good left shoe walked the rest of the day heel toe heel toe proudly and sturdily. My right, rather naughty shoe was punished with heelTOE heelTOE heelTOE. I may or may not have received pitiful looks from passersby pitying the fact that I clearly have one leg shorter than the other, but I am pretty sure that darn dirty shoe learned its lesson.