Have you met Mr. Edwards' wife?

It's always amusing to meet J.'s students. They always exclaim, with that profuse enthusiasm endemic to young teenagers, "You're so pretty!" and stare wide-eyed at me while J. makes chitchat. Once we move on, they start furiously whispering to each other.

While this is flattering, I think it's more to do with the surprise of encountering the outside life of a teacher, plus just some plain 'ole curiosity about who on earth would possibly want to be married to the big bad chemistry teacher. I think their exclamations of my "prettiness" is a gloss over what they're really thinking: "Wow, she's young and has no warts!" That, and the fact that I don't wear penny loafers or Mom jeans (my preferences running more towards Sauconys and dark wash jeans), combines to completely disrupt their preconceived notions of what "Mr. Edwards' wife" is like.

J. told me about an exchange between two of his students that he overheard earlier that week. One of the boys whispered something to another boy, whose face swiftly adopted a perplexed expression as he wasn't sure he heard his friend correctly, "Have I smelled Mr. Edwards' wife?"

Seeing as I thought "loan" sounded like "markers" while I was working at the reference desk the other week, it's quite plausible that "seen" could be confused with "smelled," especially considering the tendencies of young people to mumble and slur their words.

Why can't I look like this while I'm hiking....

One of the reasons I like browsing catalogs and magazines is the amusement I get from seeing the occasional ludicrous setup for fashionable clothing, such as this outfit in the latest catalog from Anthropologie.

Compare this with my boringly sensible moment on top of Mount Rogers...

While the model beats me in the appearance factor, it's pretty clear which one of us would fare better in a day-long downpour (such as the one J. and I trekked through the day after the above photo was taken).

The things we wear

Jon has forbidden me from wearing the following:

• fanny packs

• elastic waisted pants, aka "mom jeans": check out SNL's spoof
• tube socks with white sneakers

By the sweat of your brow

J.'s mom and I were admiring J.'s legs the other day. She said, "If I had pretty legs like J.'s, I'd wear skirts more often."

I agreed, then said, "Would you be willing to put in the amount of time that J. does on his bike to get pretty legs?"*

We both agreed it'd be quite nice to just wake up one day to find that our legs had transformed overnight.

*I estimate that J. puts in, on average, 10-15 hours a week on his bike.

Kings and chaperones

Jon has been appointed to the prom committee at the school where he teaches. He had no say in the matter.

I couldn't help but laugh.

Then he said, "If I have to be a chaperone at this prom, you're keeping me company!"

And here I thought I had gotten out of going to the prom when I was in school.

What this blog says about me

There's several ways to analyze your blog or website to see what it says about you.

Typeanalyzer uses the Myers-Briggs method to determine what part of your brain you use the most while writing.

Genderanalyzer uses artificial intelligence to determine what sex you write like.

Blog Readability Test determines what grade level your blog is written at.

What is Your Blog Worth determines the profitability level of your blog based on Technorati ratings and advertising potential.

According to Typeanalyzer, I am an ISTP (Mechanic). This means that I "enjoy adventure and risk such as driving race cars or working as policemen and firefighters." Let us pause a moment and ponder how true this is.

Genderanalyzer tells me that I write like a man.

The Blog Readability Test has decided that I write at the college/postgrad level.

The worth of my blog is around $565.

Thanks to LibraryBytes for this.

Society news

"Little Otis Pace is in shool again after having been ill for some time." W. Sun, March 5, 1905

(You never know what you'll come across while looking at old newspapers.)

Strange dreams haunting us today

I had the oddest dream last week. It started out with me in a movie, playing Arwen. Legolas and Arwen were falling in love with each other (Lord of the Rings was out of the picture, I guess).
Then, all of a sudden, it switches to real life, and I was getting married to Legolas. The whole elvish host was there, overwhelming the church with their ethereal beauty. I can distinctly remember peering out the door and spying Elrond up front, standing peacefully with a small smile on his face, next to Legolas. Then I looked down and, to my mortifying horror, saw that I was wearing nappy blue jeans and one of my faded black shirts. "I can't go out there like this!" I cried, and my friends (I believe it was Sue, Jenny, and my cousins) were all trying to reassure me: "It's okay, Laura! It's okay! He can see your true beauty!"
That feeling of overwhelming embarrassment and awe stuck with me when I woke up. It reminded me of the sensations Orual, the narrator of Till We Have Faces, experiences as she is about to come face to face with the God of the Mountain.
I think I dreamt this because I was wondering one day why, if faeries are so beautiful and so different (and superior) from mortals, do they steal away humans? There are tales of faerie kings whisking away a girl to be his bride, and of children disappearing from their cradles. My question wasn't answered, obviously.
Feel free to laugh at this--I have been retelling this story with delight and having a good laugh over it with my friends!