Ask, And You Shall Receive

You must be sick of it now, all this talk of school supplies. But this post is much needed and overdue.

I am so overwhelmed by the amount of support that I received. I’ve already posted about my first two donations, from my grandparents and my college friends. I couldn’t believe that my words actually meant something, and that they actually turned into a box and bag of school supplies at my door. I was so grateful for those notebooks, pens, pencils, dry erase markers, paper, etc., that I never even stopped to imagine that there would be more.

And then…there WAS more. So much more. Over the next few weeks, I had NINE more people/families donate supplies. My friends (who are probably just as broke as me—an extra thank you!), my parents’ friends, family, and family of friends brought me bags filled to the brim, mailed packages, and dropped boxes off at my parent’s house. My car was packed solid as I headed back to North Carolina, and my closet became my very own Staples Office Supply store.

Of course, I had to empty it all out on the living room floor so I could sort through it, organize it, and try to grasp just how much you all donated. And let me just say, I was floored (ha, get it?). No, but really. There I sat, in the middle of your gifts, and I was humbled by how generous you all are. I never expected to receive so much. My intention for writing the blog was just to make people aware of how much money teachers spend, and hopefully encourage people to consider spending just a few dollars for the sake of one of their friends’ classrooms. I never imagined that all of those donations would come to me and my classroom. I have been able to share your donations with my teacher friends in need, and stock my cabinets at school to help my grade level team. You have no idea just how grateful I am for every single school supply donated—for each tiny little pencil top eraser, every individual sheet of paper, and that pack of 15 whiteboard markers (believe me, I know how expensive those are—THANK YOU!).

I do want to make sure that everyone who had any part in donating is acknowledged. You all are too good to me, and I love you all! For the sake of being in a public domain, I won’t use last names. But a big thank you to:

Memere & Pepere
Memere & Grampy
Mom & Dad
Jess
Malinda
Meg & Ryan
Morgan
Christian & Joey
Emily & Miller
Brittany & Matt
Kaye

In total, here’s how you all have helped my “babies” and the babies of my friends (read on for numbers and pictures:

900+ pencils
10+ boxes of markers, crayons, & colored pencils
15+ packs of paper
15 binders (13 of which were filled with supplies!)
30+ dry erase markers
12+ glue sticks
15+ rulers
150+ erasers
120+ pens
And much more.





I can't say it enough. THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU! My kids don't know it yet, but they appreciate it, and of course, so do I.

(Thanks Britt Hack for the inspiration for the title.)

Just in case you were wondering....

....we now have to clock in and out at work, and my records show that I spent over 50 hours at school this week.

That doesn't even count the hours I've worked at home.



And I get paid WHAT?



An update on the first days of school to come this week. For now, read about my half-marathon adventure below. Two posts in two days!

Raining on Run Day

It’s fitting that I finally get around to writing this post now, as Hurricane Irene starts to make her way through Roanoke Rapids.

As you may know, I spent the last month of the past school year and the entire summer training for a half-marathon. I don’t know how I was talked into it so easily, and more importantly how I became so determined to make it. But I was disciplined and stuck to a schedule, and before I knew it I actually felt like a runner.

It was the first week in August. Summer was ending and the big race was approaching. The five-day forecast said race day would be perfect running weather: partly cloudy, chilly in the morning, and warming up later in the day. I enjoyed four days with family in Salem and Providence and tried to keep my mind off the race, for fear of psyching myself out. I stopped checking the forecast, because I knew that if I saw even a chance of rain I would convince myself I couldn’t do it. Saturday night, we packed our things, headed to our hotel near the starting line, and went to bed early. I wasn’t really excited or nervous, just ready for it to be over.

I woke up early Sunday morning, rolled out of bed, and went straight to the window. When I opened the curtains, my stomach dropped: it was raining. Or at least, it was gray and the ground was wet. I couldn’t tell if it was still raining outside, but it didn’t look promising. As I pulled on my running skirt (yes, skirt) and shoes and tucked my energy jellybeans into my pocket, I wondered all over again how I ever agreed to do this. I hadn’t slept well the night before, so the rain just added another layer to my grumpiness. Standing in the lobby of the hotel, I was painfully aware of two things: that it was in fact raining, and that the rain didn’t seem to put a damper on anyone else’s mood but mine. Our hotel must have been occupied by hundreds of runners, because the lobby was full of people stretching and bouncing around like it was Christmas morning. The energy in the lobby just annoyed me even more. There were days during my training that I just really did not want to run, days that took all my willpower to convince myself to even get out of bed and get in my running clothes. But this day topped them all. I have never felt so strongly about not wanting to run, ever. When we stepped outside, it only got worse. It wasn’t just raining…it was pouring. We had to walk to the starting line in the rain, and the whole way there I was wondering how many people would really blame me if I turned around and crawled back into bed. I have a feeling dad was thinking something similar, but we both just kept walking (well, truth be told, I complained most of the way).

Oh, but it gets better. This was the first annual Rock ‘N Roll Marathon in Providence, so we should have known that there would be kinks. The first wave of runners was supposed to begin at 7:00 am, so we took our place in the tenth wave promptly at 6:55. But alas, there we stood in the rain 7:05, 7:10, 7:15, waiting, waiting, waiting. Not even so much as an announcement as to why it was taking so long. I was already drenched before we even started running. I was even more annoyed because not only were we standing shoulder to shoulder with the other runners and soaking wet, but no one else seemed to care that it was raining. Finally, the corrals started moving and we were off.

My saving grace on this run was my fantastic playlist. Just hearing the beat of the first song immediately gave me a shot of energy, and I took of with a smile, yes a SMILE. I just started laughing to myself, thinking, “Am I really about to do this? Run 13.1 miles in the rain?” I guess so.

It rained the entire race. In fact, it poured during some parts. We went uphill, downhill, around sharp corners with big puddles, and alongside the water. Our only relief came when we ran under the occasional overpass. Dad and I stayed together for most of it, but he took off ahead of me a few times. I had never run 13.1 miles before, and especially not in the rain, and knew I needed to be careful and pace myself so I didn’t have to stop and walk. Dad has run three half marathons in a matter of months (and is running another one today!), so I didn’t feel bad about watching him go ahead of me. This was my first, and my goal was just to finish.

The strangest thing happened. As I was running, I was actually happy. I was happy that I had been so disciplined this summer, that I was accomplishing a goal I honestly never thought I’d even set, much less reach, and I was happy that I had some good new music on my iPod. I felt proud of myself for toughing it out, and even more so when I saw people that had to stop at walk as early as mile 2 (I’m sorry, if you’re going to stop at mile 2, why bother?) and mile 6 and mile 10 and I was still chugging along.

And then, I hit a wall. At mile 12, with only 1.1 miles to go, I felt like giving up. I wanted to walk so badly. I was exhausted, I was soaking wet, the rain was weighing down my skirt, and I already knew that we weren’t going to make Dad’s goal time. Couldn’t it just be over? The finish line was in sight, but so was another hill. To get to the end, I had to first trudge up one last hill, one that felt bigger than any of the rest, but in reality was probably the least of them all (but really, a hill at the end? That’s just cruel.). Dad and I crossed the finish line together, clocking in at 2:11:00, averaging a 10 minute mile. I had hoped for a little faster, but the rain was my excuse, and I was just happy to be done.

I DID IT. I ran a half marathon. And ran the whole time. In the rain. With wet, heavy sneakers and a saggy running skirt (the skirt thing is my fault). And I actually enjoyed it.

Ask me if I’ve run since.

Merry Christmas, Courtney!

It's not winter yet, but you would have thought that August 1 is the new December 25, with as many presents as I received yesterday.

In the morning, my mom took me to Sam's Club, Trader Joe's, and Walmart to stock up on groceries before the school year starts. That's a lot of presents. Delicious and practical presents, at that.

Later that afternoon, the mail truck drove up the driveway, which I knew meant that there was a package to deliver. My first instinct was that my electric toothbrush heads had come in and I would finally be relieved from my stupid travel toothbrush (I dream big). I was distracted by a phone call with my best friend, so I barely noticed the large box in mail woman's arms (well, that's definitely not my toothbrush heads, darnit). I cradled the phone between my ear and took the package from the mail lady, expecting one of my mom's feather-light deliveries. Instead, I buckled under the weight as I struggled to balance the mail, steady the box, open the door, and keep the phone tucked under my ear. I made it through the hallway and let the box drop dramatically onto the floor, absentmindedly sifting through the mail as I continued to chat with Jess. As if I ever get mail at this address anymore. If I do, it's usually a wedding invite, and I hadn't seen any Facebook engagement announcements recently.

Hey, wait a minute, I thought to myself. Did that box say...YES! It said MY name! That gigantic and heavy box is addressed to me!

And then, my friends, Christmas came early.

There, in that lovely brown box, was a huge pile of school supplies: crayons, colored pencils, index cards, paper, whiteboard cleaner (!!), highlighters, pencils, pens, construction paper, tissues...you name it, I've got it.




Thanks to my grandparents, who are faithful blog followers and my #1 fans, I remembered what it felt like to bask in the glory of new school supplies. I was like a little kid on Christmas morning, throwing aside the bubble wrap and plastic bags as I dug deeper and deeper into the never-ending box. I was momentarily disappointed that I was home alone and there was no one to present my new treasures to, but that didn't stop me from announcing each item out loud as I pulled it from the box.

Finally, my mom walked in the door and saw me sitting with the contents of the box fanning out around me, smiling like an idiot. She knew the box was coming, but I think she also knew how much more joy I would get out of a surprise (a concept, according to her, lost on both my dad and myself).

Memere and Grampy, this picture says it all:




And that's not all, folks.

Last night, I had dinner plans with my newly married friends Meg & Ryan, two more blessings from my RMC years. Meg was my roommate senior year (and part of the reason I began running--thanks?), and I've known Ryan since freshman year. I had the honor of being a bridesmaid in their wedding last month (hey, happy one month you two!), and absolutely love seeing them together. They kindly invited me over for my third meal in their new apartment, and I was eager to catch up with them since our last run, breakfast and pool date. (Third wheel? Me? Never.) Meg was hard at work in the kitchen when I arrived, sculpting burger patties and stirring homemade gravy after a full day in the office. I immediately started yapping away, as always, commenting on how delicious the meal smells and how great the apartment looks, yada yada yada, when she said the phrase that put the icing on the metaphorical cake of my day:

"Oh, don't forget to take that bag with you. I bought you school supplies!"

Two donations in one day? Man, I'm one lucky lady.

I already adore Meg and Ryan, for many reasons. Clearly the fact that they feed me is one. Other reasons include but are not limited to: our mutual love of One Tree Hill, how much they make me laugh (individually and as a pair), they never make me feel like a third wheel, and they are a big part of the reason that I have happy memories of Randolph-Macon. And now, they buy me school supplies? Dang, they are too good to me. I can't say it enough:



I of course could not resist laying out all the loot, and luckily my mother was there to capture my sheer, childlike joy again.

Phew, too much excitement for one day. I can hear my bed calling my name.

Thank you thank you thank you to my grandparents and my OTH buddies. You have no idea how loved you have made me feel, and how grateful I am for your support.

I think I'll go stare at my stuff one more time.

Charming Charleston

This time last week I was enjoying my last full day of a lovely long weekend trip to Charleston, SC with two of my friends from college, Baylee and Ashley.



The three of us were roommates second semester of junior year, after my four months abroad. Our lives at Randolph-Macon were woven together by our mutual disdain for the superficiality of RMC, our nerdiness (read: love of learning), and our shared faith. We were all involved with Young Life at some point, we all studied abroad in different European countries, and most recently, Baylee and I were bridesmaids in Ashley's wedding (an absolutely beautiful October wedding in Nashville, I might add). We have been talking about getting together since Ashley's big day, but distance and busy schedules have made it nearly impossible. Ashley was also a first year teacher this year, a high school history teacher outside of Nashville. Baylee just finished her first year of seminary at Wake Forest University in Winston-Salem, NC. Even though we're in the same state, Baylee and I are still over 3 hours apart. We did get to meet up a few times this year, once in Richmond and once in Greensboro, but last week was the first time all three of us have reunited in 9 months. And what a wonderful place to meet.

Originally we were planning a beach getaway, since Ashley has zero access to the ocean in landlocked state of Tennessee. But when I found out my credit card points could be traded in for 3 free nights at a Sheraton in Charleston, SC, and MapQuest proved it to be a manageable driving distance away (and still close to a beach), we changed our plans. None of us had been to the historic southern city, and I think it's safe to say we all left with a new love for Charleston.

If you've never been before, it's a definite must-see. There is so much historic charm preserved in the downtown area, with beautiful colonial-era colorful double-houses, a busy City Market, gorgeous water-front parks, and the famous King Street shopping district. Not to mention tons of delicious restaurants and old-fashioned Italian ice carts on practically every corner.


King Street



The Battery


"My" pink house along the river in the Battery.



Rainbow Row



Cobblestone streets that reminded me so much of my beloved Le Mans, France.



On campus of the College of Charleston--if they had graduate programs, I'd be there in a second.



Ashley the history lover basking in the glory of Civil War monuments (I think that's what they were for....)



Resting on the swings at Waterfront Park


We took a mule-drawn carriage tour, had margaritas at the Rooftop Bar (which was, in fact, on the rooftop), ate delicious food at restaurants suggested by friends, shopped up and down King Street and the City Market, roasted by the hotel pool, indulged in sweet treats at specialty bakeries (um, duh), invented new ways to play Banagrams, spent an afternoon at the beach, and explored the streets of a beautiful new city. Most importantly, we caught up on life and fell back into the rhythms of our days as roomies. That weekend reminded me of the beauty of two of my favorite things: traveling and friendship. There's nothing like uncovering the secret and not-so-secret treasures of an unfamiliar place, and it's even sweeter with good company.

We've decided to make this an annual trip. So, where should we go next year? Any other great cities that are must-sees?