the honor of a fifth grader

Today, Jack (the eighth grader I tutor in math) and I were talking about snow at school. Maybe that's a weird topic, but he was telling me about how they aren't even allowed to PICK IT UP during recess and I was like, "WHAT? THEN HOW DO YOU BUILD FORTS?"

When I was in school and we still had recess, there were certain activities that went on in the snow. There would be a group building snowmen, some doing snow angels, others using the playground, some attempting to use the basketball court and then completely wiping out as they slid over a hidden patch of ice, etc.

Looking back, it was probably really funny to watch; all of us toddling around in our snow pants, with our huge puffy coats, hats, mittens, and scarves. All of us like little Ralphies screaming that we can't put our arms down.

I was part of another group. The serious group. The future-leaders-of-our-generation group. The hardworking elites that refused to allow devastating setbacks and what others might call insurmountable odds hinder us in our slow trek to greatness.

We were the group that built forts.

We were eleven-year-old architects, brilliant and misunderstood, spending our precious hours of outdoor time painstakingly packing walls, digging tunnels, smoothing out floors. It was our life's work, those forts. Though, we didn't see them as forts. To us, they were architectural feats that rivaled the Pyramids of Gaza, the Notre Dame Cathedral, and the Empire State Building.

We weren't construction workers. We were artists.

The thing about fort builders is that we weren't in it for the money or the fame. We didn't do it for the looks on the third graders faces as they came upon the wonder that was our added tower spires. It wasn't about the glory.

It was about stepping back after the teacher's whistle blew and wiping the sweat from your brow as you took in everything you had accomplished in 25 short minutes. It was about honor.

The other thing about fort builders is that we were never truly done. Like all visionaries, we strove to be better everyday. There was always more to be done. Another door to be built. Another tunnel to be dug. More blueprints to review, because hey, if we put the hottub in the main structure, the mini-fridge would have to be exiled to sub-basement B and that just would not do.

We could never enjoy our successes because we were constantly busy fighting for more. Another day, a new challenge. If we let down our guard, disaster could strike.

One such disaster was the potential destruction of our masterpieces at the hands of those who could've one day been our friends, but instead were branded our enemies. Those who wished trample our kingdom and lay waste to our villages.

We called them The Destroyers.

They were those from the younger grades whose recesses were at odds with ours, making it possible for them to strike when we were vulnerable and unable to defend ourselves. We would arrive the next day to find the igloo addition we had made the day before in ruins.

We quickly realized that we needed a defense system.

We called them The Soldiers.

They were a team of handpicked younger kids that we bribed into safeguarding our castles. We would stock snowballs for them in a side room, sometimes burying chocolate or other candy in what we called 'the freezer bank' to keep them loyal. And it worked. With them under our employ we once again were able to focus all of our mental capacity on our work.

It was a beautiful system and it lasted until the very last snow melt.

Those snow forts were our legacy and will live on in our memories forever.

Over.

Face Mask

THIS CAN ALSO BE FOUND IN THE HOW TO TAB

Truth be told, I found this on Pintrest.

Yes, I'm just another white girl looking up skincare techniques on the internet.

ANYWAY,

here goes...

So we all know those Biore nose strips, right?

The ones made famous for little girls like me in the first Princess Diaries when she unceremoniously ripped it off when faced with her spurned crush, Michael.

They're very simple - you wet it and put it on your nose and let it harden and then peel it off. Yes, it sort of hurts. It hurts less if you just rip it off, but it's far less effective that way. Like they say, beauty is pain.

I found a recipe on Pintrest to make one for your whole face. A face mask of sorts.

RECIPE:

Ingredients:

1 tablespoon of knorr unflavored gelatin

1&1/2 tablespoons of milk

Directions:

Mix them together (IN A PLASTIC CUP OR SOMETHING YOU'RE OKAY WITH THROWING AWAY I WILL NOT MAKE THAT MISTAKE TWICE) and put it in the microwave for 10-15 seconds.

Apply it to your face with like a popsicle stick (SOMETHING YOU CAN THROW AWAY) quickly! It hardens really fast.

Then you wait it out.

The first time I tried it I only put it on my nose because I was vaguely concerned about slapping this weird mix of stuff on my whole face.

NOTE TO ALL: Don't put it too close to your eyes because your eyelashes with get stuck in it and it will hurt like a mother and you'll lose half your eyelashes.
It did sort of hurt when I was pulling it off but that probably mostly due to the eyelash pluckage.
I decided that I'm pretty sure it worked... the skin around my nose feels smoother and stuff. However, I was still scared to do it to my whole face.

So I texted my friend Maggie and informed her that I would be arriving at her house in the evening and she had to do it with me.
Fast forward to that evening:

She agreed that it smelled super weird and we just stood there in her bathroom applying this stuff to our faces and trying not to drip it in our hair. (I got a ton of it in my eyebrow).
We then sat back to wait until it hardened. (You can tell just by touching it when it's ready.)

The problem is that when it hardens and sinks into your pores and stuff it also takes a tight grip on any of the little hairs or peach fuzz on your face. It's just like those nose strips. So it sort of hurts when you peel it off. It's doesn't hurt that bad, it's just... Uncomfortable. We were standing in her bathroom making these really weird noises as we peeled it off. I was terrified for my eyebrows but it turns out if you just apply water with like a washcloth it comes right out. So I still have my eyebrows! Yay!

Maggie and I both agreed that the pain was worth it and our faces feel softer and that we would do it again.

So there you go. There's my stolen Pintrest face mask.

Dead

I know I haven't posted in freaking forever... and I apologize for that... but some stuff has been happening and I just haven't been feeling very funny.

BUT GREY'S ANATOMY HAPPENED TODAY AND OH MY ****.

I can't even explain it.

I'm going full white girl and announcing I CAN'T EVEN.

It physically hurts.

In all of my organs.

Every.

Single.

One of them.

We cried. Kendra and I cried. I never cry at movies. It makes me feel weak. AND I AM VERY WEAK THIS EVENING.

Nope. I'm done. Maybe more tomorrow when I can put together a real sentence.

Over

A begrudged apology

I taunted you with a post for today but it didn't really happen and I apologize but I accidentally took a three hour nap this afternoon and when I finally woke up it was like I was coming out of a coma.
I've spent the last I don't know how many hours doing homework and then I remembered I had an online lecture to watch for tomorrow and that turned out to be another hour and UGH.
Bedtime.
Okay.
Forgive me.

Over.

Intermittent

Ugh.

I know I'm not blogging and I sort of promised I would.

I'm so terrible.

Yada yada.

Whatevs.

School has started again and my life is once again being pulled to and fro, controlled by the whims and fancies of professors that are intent upon destroying any happiness that I may now have or may come up on the coming months.
Fabulous.

I have this list of topics and anecdote on my phone to write about but it's lateish and I was just going to give you a brief update and since I DON'T HAVE SCHOOL TOMORROW you might get an actual post... We'll see.

Over.

Resolutions

Okay. I'm getting a little deep today.
I wrote this at like 3AM last night.

So it's a new year. January first, which will be followed by January second, then third, and so on. Yet despite this being another day in a long line of other days, we ascribe it a special importance. Who decided that this would be the do-over date? All a year represents is the cycle of the earth around the sun. Who decided when the cycle "restarted"? I have many questions. One of which is: what are my resolutions this year? That's always the question they ask. Everyone always has an answer. Go to the gym three times a week. Quit eating fast food. Stop drunk texting him. Stop sober texting him. Either way the result is the same.

We let a calendar decide when we want to be a new person. As if today is so much different than yesterday and the fact that it's now "2015" means that I'll have more willpower. False. I have the same amount of willpower. Which is none.

My resolution is this: I will not make a resolution. I will not start this year by picking apart what I think is wrong with me and endeavoring to fix it. I will be me, a person who is a total delight filled with sarcasm and great fun at parties and if at some point in the future if I decide that I don't like something that I do, then I'll change it. But I won't start this year believing parts of me are mistakes.

Over.

YANKEE SWAP

ALRIGHT GUYS.
I'm Christmas blogging. (For Dave)

So it's Christmas Eve and all of the children are back in the Rosenau household:

(the band's back together again)

They've only tried to beat me up twice.

So we went to Christmas Eve church and came back and had our Christmas Eve chili, etc.

Then,

Mom looks up at all of us and says: "While we were at church, Santa came."

Big brother: "And robbed us."

Turns out Santa chucked everything down the chimney early and all of the presents were all mixed up.

GASP.

She brought us the large box full of wrapped up gifts (there were probably about 30 of them, various shapes and sizes)

Dad then produces this:

(he let me in on the secret that Santa got it for 9 dollars at target)

and tells us that we are going to bingo for the gifts.

Apparently the rule book that Santa left with the presents stipulated that this was a white elephant bingo, with the option of stealing.

Older brother and I immediately yelled, "YANKEE SWAP" and began obnoxiously quoting that episode of The Office. (I live my life through The Office quotes and parallels. I don't know anything else and I don't WANT to know anything else.)

We are each issued two bingo cards and a bunch of chips and the game began.

(Basically the point was that when you got a bingo you got to pick a new gift or steal, just like white elephant or YANKEE SWAP. "I thought that was called nasty christmas?")

Let me just make it clear that I COMPLETELY DOMINATED. (As much as you can dominate at bingo.

Funny thing was, Santa was oddly specific in his gifts.

I chose a bow tie and pocket square (quickly stolen by little brother) and little brother opened a pair of Gryffindor socks accompanied by a tire pressure gauge, obviously intended for me.

OH. THE BEST ONE.

There was a teddy bear.

(Exhibit A: the teddy bear)

I didn't think anything of it until little brother looks at it and suddenly says, "OH. I KNOW WHERE THAT CAME FROM."

Turns out 'Santa' had taken said bear from somewhere within our very house.

Then, little brother looks at me and says, "That bear was given to me by ****** ****** for my birthday when I was thirteen." (name redacted). ****** ****** was little brother's girlfriend from seventh grade to freshman year. AND SANTA STOLE, WRAPPED, AND REGIFTED HER TEDDY BEAR GIFT.

Strangely enough, little brother didn't want it back and now I really don't know what to do with it.

I also got a pretty sweet screwdriver set. And more socks.

Anyway, that was our Christmas Eve.

HAPPY CHRISTMAS.

Over.