Thursday, November 28, 2013

Talk Fit

I alternate running a club on Wednesdays after school called Keep-Fit with another girl, where I make the girls do wall-sits, run ladders, do workout videos, plank, race, and play games. Sometimes I take them on jogs or to use the school fitness suite. We often end up bantering and telling stories while we exercise. 

The girls are getting progressively lazier as the holidays approach. A few weeks ago, when we were doing wall-sits, one of the girls asked (in earnest) if we could do chair-sits instead: “… and we can just see who can sit in a chair the longest.” I’ve had to start bribing them to run by promising the winner a pack of Oreos (yes, I realize the irony).

Last week, the gym was being used, so we had to go into the fitness suite. Most of the girls were at a drama performance, so I only had to look after three of them (ages 11 and 12). They waffled about, and one of them said, “Can we do ‘Talk-Fit’ instead, and talk about people who are fit? And eat doughnuts?” I laughed, which I think encouraged them. While they fiddled with weights and walked on the treadmill we started to tell stories and secrets. As the secrets got more exciting the exercise became less.. existent. By the end of the class we were all gathered on a mat in the middle of the fitness suite, telling each other about doorbell ditching and shipping the teachers.

The secrets were so juicy that I think I put on a few pounds.

Wednesday, November 13, 2013


Yesterday was my day off, and I was on my way to get cocktails with my friend when we were lured to the front of the Ashmoleon Museum by the light of large torches. We wondered what event was happening, so we went to the front doors. There were guards there that asked to see our student IDs. Luckily enough we both had our old ones with us, and they let us into the museum.

It was a bit surreal. There was an acapella group performing, and it echoed around the museum. We got free beer tickets, and were told that we could go on free tours, sing karaoke, and play games. There was a gargoyle making class too.

After having some drinks and learning a load of random facts about Islamic art, I made a beautiful gargoyle for my sister that she is really going to treasure and appreciate for…ever (if you’re reading this, Anna, you’re welcome—and sorry to spoil the surprise… well, I guess you’d probably be better off warned).

Nothing too mischievous happened. But it was a random (albeit awesome) way to spend the evening!

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

Like Grandfather Like Granddaughter

Sometimes I am ridiculous. Luckily, there are times when I can blame it on something like my nationality (“Oh, uh, in America everyone dances like this.”) or my home state (“Is this weird? Mormons don’t think this is weird.”). When I travel I can blame it on jetlag. So here are some accounts of my jetlagged brain.

I went to California this last week to visit my boyfriend, and on Halloween, like the fancy people that we are, we went to the opera to see The Flying Dutchman. It was amazingly well done, and the orchestra was incredible. Here’s a quick synopsis of the play--

The Dutchman is condemned to sail in an invincible ship and never die because he appealed to Satan to save his life during a storm, and Satan cursed him. The only way he can break the curse is to have a woman be loyal to him until death. He’s allowed to go to shore every seven years. He meets a Captain who promises his daughter to him, and the daughter falls in love with him. He returns to her, and some other possessory rival who wanted to marry her is being a prat. The Dutchman overhears the prat and the girl speaking and thinks she stopped being loyal. He goes back to his ship, and the girl drowns herself to break his curse, and then they both die.

Wow, I should write for Sparknotes. So succinct.

Anyway—I was severely jetlagged, and because the play was so fantastic, I only fell asleep for less than five minutes… during the final scene.

“So… They lived happily ever after, right?”


My flight to the airport was at 11, so we woke up at 6 to get ready, make coffee, pack, and go to the airport. In a morning rush of finding the right terminal, and being emotional, we were having some trouble finding my gate. My boyfriend said, “Wait a minute.” He typed a few things into his phone, and then a curious expression formed on his face.

“What?!” I asked, thinking that we must’ve been in the wrong part of the airport.

“11… PM.” Ahh, apparently my English major did not prepare me for close readings of travel itineraries.

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

In the Spirit of Halloween

It was four in the morning, and I awoke to a scratching noise. Was it scratching? I imagined that someone was knocking at my door. I opened my eyes, and I heard it again. I got out of bed, and walked over to the door. I hesitatingly opened it, and looked left and right, but no one was in the corridor. Then—AH! Someone grabbed my foot, like in a freaking horror movie!

I looked down, and one of the girls was one the floor. Her eyes were as big as golf balls, and she was moaning. My first instinct as a Catholic during the Halloween season was to call a priest to have her exorcised. But, as I became more awake, I kept calm and asked her where she hurt and what the matter was. I tried to give her ibprofin, but she wouldn’t take it.

I went to the housemistress, and when she came to my room the girl muttered about pain, and insisted on an ambulance. The housemistress called one, and I went outside to direct it. The medics came in, took her vitals, and asked her the same questions that I did. She went with them to the hospital. I stayed awake to inform the office of what had happened, and to see what had happened at the ER.

After the whole hullaballoo it was discovered that it was period pains. Super great way to start the day.

Tuesday, October 22, 2013

Age Polarity

There is a divide between the younger women and the older women who work in the office. We younger women are far more optimistic, living in our prime. The older women complain about everything, gossip about the girls at the school, and lose all sense of coherency when a male enters the office. We younger girls sometimes discuss how much better we are at handling drama, and how much less prone we are to gossiping about co-workers.

The other day, when we were discussing such things (notably how one of the older ladies in the office had a scandalous past before coming to the school) one of the day-girls at the school went outside the gates to talk to a boy. All of us sneakily crowded around a window to see the interaction, when the girl began to argue with the boy and cry. The housemistress next to me popped up and ran outside to make the girl come in the gates while the rest of us ducked down, faces still fogging up the window. It was at this time that the new IT guy came in to check if a printer was working, and we all leapt to our feet and started bantering like we had been uninterested all along…

The moral of the story is that we younger women are clearly superior. 

Friday, October 18, 2013

A Cream-Colored Jacket

I went out with my friend to a small pub last night, and we were both pretty tired and lethargic. I had been thinking about snow and skiing all day, so I ordered a coffee with Bailey’s in it (one of my favorite things), and my friend ordered a plain coffee.

The bartender came asked how it was, and I jokingly said, “Ah, I don’t know if you put enough Bailey’s in here.” He came back with a full glass of Bailey’s for me! My friend and I took no time in putting gracious amounts of it into our cups.

Eventually we finished it, and voila! We were tired and lethargic no more! I gave him a tip, and am now ready for winter. 

Monday, October 14, 2013

Boots with the Fur

One of the girls at the school is tiny and a little bit slow. She is perfectly lovely, and spends loads of time reading, but she likes to mosey and she has a bit of OCD. Because she is so sweet, despite many of the setbacks that she causes because of her tardiness, she is the favorite of many of the staff members. The other day, I was helping her pack and get ready for a canoeing trip, and I told her to tell me about it when she got back to school.

I have a pair of fur boots that I’ve been wearing since the weather decided to hate me. They have fur on the outside, and they are lined with sheepskin on the inside. They are like magic slippers. I had them propped on the chair in front of me when the girl came to tell me about canoeing.

At first she just looked at the shoes while she talked, and then she kept searching for more things to say. Finally, she relented, and she just started petting my shoes like you would pet a cat. She was so happy about it (maybe she was feeling pet-deprived), that I just let her pet my shoes until she was content.

Weird little thing. I think she’s one of my favorites now too.