I'm a forensics coach. It's my thing. Growing up, I thought I wanted to be an elementary school teacher. Thank goodness my undergrad (Defiance College!) puts ed majors into classrooms early in their programs. I learned I don't like children. At all. (Hence the reason I'm that oddity known as a woman who never had kids because she didn't want any.) So I switched to secondary ed. Surely high schoolers would be better? Right? I wouldn't have to wipe their noses or clean up their vomit or keep my sanity through their high-pitched, incessant babbling. No, I wouldn't. But during student teaching I would have to figure out how to deal with a 15 year old student who was 8 months pregnant and wanted to do a speech about lamaze exercises. Awkward. There is a very long, possibly boring story of how I accidently ended up with a master's degree in speech and started teaching/coaching at the college level - but I'll skip it. I teach. I coach. I love both. But I really, really, really love coaching. I get to be bossy, and IT'S MY JOB!! Seriously, how great is that.
So, this weekend UWEC hosted a forensics tournament. We had 15 schools from 6 states come, had alumni from California to Milwaukee come judge, had a karaoke party and a winter storm. It was fun. I am so freaking exhaused that my exhaustion is exhausted.
But through the exhaustion is the lingering satisfaction of watching "my kids" - some are just baby freshman, and their energy and enthusiasm is so good for my soul. Others are at the end of their competitive journey, and don't know if they should be sad or happy that it's almost over. Then there are the former students - the "kids" who have gone on to grad school, get jobs (some as forensics coaches!), get engaged, get married, have babies . . . seeing the amazing men and women they have become, well, my heart is just so full of love and joy for them.
But GWIET (Grace Walsh Individual Events Tournament) just wouldn't be the same without my dear, sweet, kind, wonderful friend and colleague, Karen.
There is not a day that goes by that I don't thank God for putting her in my life. We have an unwritten rule that only one of us can be crazy at a time. And actually, I'm usually the crazy one. She is the brains of our operation. She is also the funny one. And I'm pretty darn funny most of the time, so that's saying something. I got to work with one of my very best friends, doing one of my very favorite things this weekend - and it was awesome.
Except that my feet hurt. I also ate too many cookies and drank too many diet Pepsi's and probably gossiped too much.
I also missed Joe. A lot. I get a ridiculous fizzy-lifting-drink feeling when we text. I think I'm falling in serious "like" with him. I get to see him again next Sunday. Another week. Another! Week! Sometimes I catch myself snort-laughing at one of his texts (so attractive) or just grinning like a simpleton when my phone dings that I have a message from him. I have never texted someone as much as I text him. If I had a phone that wasn't a bajillionty years old, I would probably text even longer messages. I think I'm falling in serious "like" with him. The cats already like him.
Of course Tonks (on the right) loves everyone and will whore herself out to whoever wants to pet her. Luna is quite shy. She has been known to hide so well from pet-sitters that they think I have only one cat. Even she likes Joe. Here's where I make the crazy cat-lady statement that if my cat's like him, he must be OK.
Ufdah. I am exhausted.