What I didn’t realize was exactly how blissful the mani-pedi was going to be.

LJ took me to a nail salon that will give you a mani-pedi for EIGHTEEN DOLLARS. I had to spell it out because that’s how insane it is.

Eighteen dollars. $18.

Eighteen dollars for something that costs $40 in places like Alexandria and Winston-Salem. For serious.

Not only did I get a mani-pedi for $18, they also did a paraffin wax treatment on my heels (for free, and sorely needed), and a shoulder rub while your nails are drying (also for free and sorely needed).

If everything is this awesome in Glen Cove, I might just have to move.

Today begins my NYWoF: Long Island Edition.

Back in October, I bought a couple of Groupons for Vamoose bus trips to New York. One of them I used for a December NYCWoF, but I wanted to save the other Groupon for a trip to visit LJ before her winter break is over. The smarty pants is getting her PhD at NYU.

The thing is, LJ doesn’t live in New York City. She lives in Glen Cove, which is on Long Island. In order to get to her house, I took the bus from Rosslyn to NYC, and then entered Penn Station to catch the train to Glen Cove on the Oyster Bay line. I didn’t have very long to wait, but when I take the LIRR, I like to hang out in the LIRR waiting room because the people watching is SPECTACULAR.

First of all, it was about 11pm when I found myself in the waiting room, and as we all know, New York is the city that never sleeps, so the revelers were just starting to come out of the woodwork. Women who looked like they were wearing band-aids for skirts were drinking out of brown paper bags and teetering on 12-inch heels (only a slight exaggeration). Their men…all I can say is that they were ENORMOUS. Huge muscles, spiky hair, leather jackets.

Sitting across from me in the waiting room was a modern day Ms. Havisham. Clad totally in silver, from a fur hat and floor-length fur coat, to her high-heeled (and I mean HIGH-HEELED) ankle boots, I couldn’t help but stare. The woman was wearing more make-up than I’ve ever even owned. If I was more skilled, I would have surreptitiously taken a picture with my camera phone, but this was a new breed of person for me to encounter. I wasn’t sure if she’d notice, and if she did, I had no IDEA what she would do. Hence, I refrained.

The best part of this experience was when trains entered the station. Everyone is waiting around to see which platform their train will pull into. When the information is posted on the huge board in the lobby of the LIRR portion of Penn Station, I swear to God, it’s like the start of the Kentucky Derby. Despite the fact that you have ten minutes to board the train after the platform is posted, people literally race to the escalator. Being Southern, I’m not entirely sure what the big hurry is. Everyone has plenty of time to get on the train, and at 11:15pm, there is always plenty of room for everyone to have a seat.

Once I found my way onto the train, the ride lasted for about another hour before we pulled into Glen Cove station, after transferring at Jamaica of course. I think that’s the only thing I don’t like about the LIRR. They named one of their stations after a tropical island, and despite its name, it is still bitterly cold outside.

What a tease.

Alright, so they’re not loathsome.  Just incredibly irritating.  And for some reason, today they irritated me to the brink of fury.

I won’t go into what it was that made me so angry, but I will say that a year ago (six months ago?), I would have gone through a drive-thru on the way home and ordered myself a Quarter Pounder with Cheese meal and Diet Coke.  I eat my feelings.

Today, I get my aggression out another way.

When I moved, I joined a gym since my days of a free membership to neighborhood gyms are over.  I love my gym.  There’s nothing special about it – it’s a gym.  It’s got treadmills, ellipticals, bikes, a weight room.  They offer classes; they’ve got trainers.

What’s special is the fact that now when I’ve had a bad day, all I want to do is go and take out my aggression on the machines.  I worked out for an hour and a half – my longest workout since my 10-miler training days.

• 20 minutes bike
• 20 minutes elliptical
• 20 minutes stairs
• Reverse Curls and Press
• Incline Press
• Bench Rows

It was a hard workout.  I almost felt like I almost wanted to puke.  And it was awesome.  I felt much better about my life.  Not better enough to make me love my freshmen, but good enough to make me okay with going to work tomorrow.

That, and the fact that tomorrow is Friday.  You know.

Love and light.

This year, my love and light comes from my seniors.  Best senior class ever.  Four years ago, about six of my seniors were also in my English 9 classes.  It’s always fun to see them grow up.  But that’s not the best part about this senior class.

They’re laid back, intelligent, friendly, and they laugh at my jokes.  They go along with whatever crazy assignments I have in my repetoire, no matter how confusing the current iteration may be.

They understand when I’m stressed.  They don’t hold it against me when I’m unprepared.  They scavenge left-over food from yearbook’s Friday breakfast club.  You wouldn’t think that would make them endearing, but it does.  A small group of about four boys gets to class almost IMMEDIATELY after yearbook ends just to see if there’s food.  And when there is, you better make sure you get to class first.

It’s been a hard English 9 year, and it’s been a hard yearbook year (which ends up defining the year), but TGFMS.

Thank God for My Seniors.

And then I saw this:

Mischief managed. Thank you funstoo.blogspot.com.

Television is one of the many reasons that I found myself this morning looking forward to the week ahead.

I used to (and still do) look forward to the weekend.  Who doesn’t?  Two days off from work to do with whatever you like.  However, if you don’t also look forward to the WEEK, doesn’t it seem like you’re wasting your life?

Here’s why I’m looking forward to the week ahead:

Monday:  Writing Days in school and “How I Met Your Mother” on television.  On Mondays, my school has an Anchor Day where I see all five of my classes in one day.  On Anchor Days, my students spend their time on personal writing; they can write about whatever they want, however they want.  And so can I.  Hence the reason that it’s 1:49pm and I’m catching up on my blog.  It’s calming, and peaceful, and I love it.  After school, I look forward to “How I Met Your Mother,” despite the fact that tonight’s is a repeat and most consider the show to have jumped the shark (who IS the mother already, DAMMIT?).  Because tonight’s episode is a repeat, I will most likely watch multiple episodes of “Justified.”  Trying to play catch-up before season 3 starts.

Tuesday:  Trivia with Devil’s Hula Hoop.  A few months ago,  my friend Meghan invited me to come and play trivia at a bar with some of her work colleagues.  Apparently it was an “audition;” they take their trivia very seriously.  When the matching round came up, the category was types of poetry and their forms.  Hello?  English teacher!  I rocked it, and was “allowed” to continue playing.  Fast forward to December, and our team, Devil’s Hula Hoop won the season and was invited to play in the tournament of champions on January 29th.  Yes, there will be media coverage. This Tuesday I also get to meet with my trainer.  BONUS.

Wednesday:  Humanities Post-Holiday Blues Hump Day Happy Hour, followed by viewing of “The Artist.”  Yes, we’re going out on a Wednesday.  Because that’s how we roll.

Thursday: Yoga at 6.  “Vampire Diaries” at 8.  Catching up on “Revenge” at 9.  That’s right.  “Vampire Diaries.”  Damon is my boyfriend, and he’s too busy plotting how to kill Claus to hang out most days, so Thursday is the only time we get to see each other.  No, I have not had a psychotic break.

Friday:  Legitimate excuse to listen to this song:

Plus it’s a Red Day.  Plus I leave for New York to spend the weekend with LJ.

It’s a packed week, but with something to look forward to every day, I didn’t really mind coming to work.  Plus I still have Starbucks gift cards to work my way through.  If every day started with a triple grande skinny hazelnut latte, who wouldn’t be in a good mood?

For those of you who have never done Body Pump before, it’s an hour-long barbell class that works pretty much every muscle group in your body, one after another, with very little rest in between.

I love it.  It’s like any good workout – you kind of hate it while you’re doing it (especially the squats and lunges), but when you’re done, you feel accomplished…and sore.  I spent all evening saying to anyone that would listen that I wasn’t going to be able to lift my arms tomorrow.

I tried to find a YouTube clip of a class that would help you visualize just how brutal the class is, but none of the ones I saw really did it justice, so I decided to go with this one.  I love the motto at the beginning:  “When your body screams, tell it to shut up.”  Wouldn’t it be hilarious if I just yelled, “SHUT UP!” at the top of my lungs the next time I’m in class?

In my new house, I live in a bedroom in a finished basement.  I love my room, and I love the fact that I essentially have my own door to the outside and my own driveway.  Plus, the gigantor TV is right outside of my room, so when I fall asleep watching television, I have to stumble all of five feet to my room.

However, because my room is in the basement, it gets cold.  Especially in winter.  I realize the weather has yet to make up it’s mind about which season it would like to be, every other day it’s winter.

It used to be that my down comforter was enough, but the added chill was forcing me to sleep in socks, pajama pants, a t-shirt, and a hooded sweatshirt.  Most night, I found myself sleeping with the hood up, curled into the fetal position.

For some reason, Melanie’s old comforter was hanging out in the living room.  I’m not sure why it was there, but I took it and put it on my bed for the night.  When I woke up in the morning, I was actually warm and cozy.  So much so that it took a tremendous amount of extra effort to wake up and get ready for school.

Flash forward to this  morning.  Saturday morning.  A morning without alarm clocks disturbing my slumber.  And now a morning without the bitter chill of winter to disturb it either.

I woke up around 8:30 cuddled in warmth.  I was comfortable that I stayed in bed for about another hour watching the morning news and reading Stephen King’s new book, 11/22/63.  The best part?  I wasn’t sleeping under a thousand layers of clothing.

Granted, today’s weather ended up being gorgeous and not cold in the slightest, but I still live in a basement, and it still gets wicked cold in there, and I still woke up rested, happy, and warm.

For a long time, I hated driving into DC.  I hated finding a place to park and I worried about DC traffic.  I lied to myself and claimed that riding on the metro (even though it made the trip 2-3 times longer than necessary), gave me time to read in an otherwise hectic day.

Now that I’m back in a gym routine, I have plenty of time to read.  Now that I’m being strict about my budget, I don’t want to waste money on a metro card, not to mention the fact that to park in a garage on a Friday costs me almost $5 extra dollars.  You would think that Friday at 5pm is the official “start” of the weekend, but not according to WMATA.  One time I contemplated taking a nap in my car until 2am so I could avoid paying the parking fee, but swiftly decided that the idea was ridiculous.

Now that I am confident in my ability to obtain clutch parallel parking spots in the District, I realize how much time I save by driving into DC straight from work for much needed social interaction with people my own age.  One can only take so much of the American teenager.

Unfortunately (fortunately?), I’m trying to be more fiscally responsible these days (why do I feel like I’ve written that exact same phrase before?), so I said, “Erinn. You do not need another scarf.”

See, I have about a dozen scarves in my wardrobe. They allow me to wear almost the exact same outfit approximately 3-4 times a week without anyone noticing because they are blinded by the awesomeness of my scarf.

I didn’t need the ultra-pink scarf, but I never stopped wanting the ultra-pink scarf.

Enter after-Christmas shopping.

I received four Target gift cards from my students for Christmas, and they were burning a hole in my pocket. To be honest with you, I had forgotten all about the ultra-pink scarf. I went to Target in search of a birthday present for my brother, accessories for my New Year’s Eve outfit, and a foam roller.

You can probably guess where this story is going. I found the scarf, remembered how badly I wanted it, and I bought it. UPS (ultra-pink scarf) was mine at last, but I didn’t actually wear it until today.

Anytime you get a compliment on a article of clothing, it makes you feel better about life. I don’t care who you are. I got many compliments on the UPS today, but my favorite came from one of my students, who was sitting in the hallway working on some writing for another class.

“That scarf is LOUD.”

Yeah it is.

I’m not sure this photo does the “loudness” of the scarf justice, but hopefully you’ll get some idea.

The funniest part of the compliment is this: later that class period, I was walking to the main office. The student was still sitting there, but her wardrobe had changed a bit. She was wearing a leopard print, fuzzy ski cap thing with REALLY long “ears.” The ears were so long, that the ends doubled as mittens. Literally. You can stick your hands in the ears of this hat to keep them warm. I looked at my student.

“Dude. Your hat is LOUD.”