THINKING BIG THOUGHTS

So, here I sit, thinkin' big thoughts as I sip my venti, skinny, cinnamon dolce latte, my lastest obsession at Starbucks. I'm sorry, did I mention I want my ashes sprinkled at Starbucks? Who cares what the health department thinks!

At church this morning, I was talking to a girl that is doing her student teaching, and she was outright complaining about her cooperating teacher's piles. "She just isn't the most organized of people, and it's driving me crazy. She has piles all over her desk!"

I tried to tell her that when you teach, you don't have time to deal with piles, but she just wasn't getting it. Ahhhh! Youth ... they will learn, eventually.

She then started in on the fact that the teacher has taken on far too many after-school projects to help with finances at home. "She's over-extended herself."

"Uh huh," I replied.

"Well, how does she expect to leave at 3:30 p.m?"

"She doesn't," I say. "That's what being a teacher is all about."

She disagreed with me. I'll guess she'll find out soon enough ... I can't tell her what she doesn't want to hear ...

I've decided I'm going to become a cougar. I read an article about the trend that women in their 30s, 40s, and 50s are marrying younger men. These women are called cougars. I see some definite positives about this plan.

1. These young guys are moldable ... well, in so much as someone of the male persuasion is trainable ... the jury is still sort of out about that one according to many of my married counterparts.
2. Setting aside the biological explanation for mating and procreation and meeting certain biological peaks, blah, blah, blah, it appears that women are still living longer than men. If I happen to find the love of my life, at least this way, we are more likely to live the remainder of our days together rather than me becoming a widow far too early ... I've just discovered color again. Why be forced back into black?
3. Men my age tend to have a Uhaul full of baggage. Not to say that I don't have baggage of my own, but mine tends to be the junk in my trunk variety rather than emotional stuff. I'd rather not have to deal with baby-mama drama and the craziness of all that. Not to say, I wouldn't should I fall for the right one, but I think you see where I'm going with this ...

Erin and Joe had me over for dinner last night, and while Joe bounced from a televised poker tournament to NASCAR stuff to some sort of fishing show, Erin and I sat in the living room watched SIXTEEN CANDLES. I've come to an interesting conclusion regarding this cinematic brillance. The reason my dating life sucks is directly correlated to this movie -- the fact that, after viewing this movie for the very first time way too many years ago to mention, I knew that after a night in a school gymnasium dancing to really bad 80s music, I, too, could be swept off my feet by my very own Jake Ryan, taken back to an undisclosed location where we would sit on a glass-topped dining room table and share a birthday cake. Except, glass-topped tables of any sort are a decorating nightmare these days, and the amount of candles any Jake would have to put on my cake now might actually cause some serious third degree burns to the lower half of his body -- if you don't have a clue as to what I'm talking about, go rent it! Yeah, the 80s are to blame for this stagnant dating life I've got.