Real Life Texts with T: Migratory edition

The backstory: Flip flops are my favorite thing in the world and I own an unnecessary assortment of them.  This morning, T noticed flip flop chaos by the side of the bed and texted me a picture.

The caption below the photo read:  “The great flip flop migration has begun……”

Indeed.

Real Life Texts with T: Future Plans edition

The backstory: I am teaching JT how to drive and it sometimes requires the patience of Job.  He’s a careful and cautious driver, but he’s still 17 and driving in the most densely populated state in the nation.  Anxious moments happen.  After a rough go at parking, I texted T to explore my options.

Me:  Today in Peter Pan driving featured an argument over parking.  An infant is easier.  I am looking to trade.

T:  We are not trading for an infant.  We are seeing this thru with Peter Pan and we are going on vacation to Yellowstone once he is in college.  Infants don’t like Yellowstone so that’s how it has to be.

Sounds like it’s back to the parking lot for me.  

Real Life Texts with T: Whining edition

The backstory:  I long for Spring and my switch to warm-weather clothing has made that longing a more frigid affair.  Figuring that T should share my pain, I complained to her.

Me:  Why won’t Spring hang out with me?  I ask nicely.

T:  Spring is having a rough patch of PMS….check back next week.

I have high hopes for April.

Real Life Texts with T: She’s Perfect for Me edition

The backstory:  A few weeks ago, I took the whole of the 7th grade to the National Constitution Center in Philadelphia so that they could see the Bill of Rights and other assorted American things.  On the way back from the field trip, I texted T with an update.

Me:  Headed home from Philly with the Constitution tucked into my bra. Don’t tell anyone.

T:  You are just copying National Treasure…I’m pretty sure Nicolas Cage wears a bra too.

I think this perfectly explains my attraction to her.

Real Life Texts with T: Permanent Record edition

The backstory:  I have long like to joke about my permanent record, a notion that actually frightened me when I was a kid.  Now that I’m a Middle School administrator, I actually have access to the permanent record file.*  The power may have gone to my head.  I was at school earlier this week, when T and I had this exchange.

Me: It’s quiet here so I may open up the permanent records and fuck with things.

T:  Fix my records while you’re at it.  I didn’t mean to bite that kid.

Internet, she’s taken.

*Such a thing doesn’t actually exist, a fact that would have been handy to know when I was in the 7th grade.

Real Life Texts with T: Doing Right edition

The backstory: JT and I are often surprised at the degree to which men in this state opt to go shirtless.  I feel that some of them should reconsider (i.e., must I see your hairy, white, beer belly?), but our approach has been rejected.  Among the shirtless is my kind-hearted neighbor R.  To be fair, he pulls it off without an assault to our eyes or his personal dignity, and thus earns a pass on our condemnation.  The other day my 16 year old mower died and R loaned me his so I could cut the grass before it became it became a pasture.  I texted T to give her the news.

S:  I went out to mow and the mower would not start.  R loaned me his so I mowed shirtless.

T:  R's mower has high standards; you did the right thing.

JT and I may need to adjust our standards.

Real Life Texts with T: Winter edition

This afternoon, after cold wind blew right up my (wool) skirt and made me cranky, I texted T the following: "I just told winter that we are breaking up because of the incessant and annoying wind."

Seconds later, she texted back: "So I hear you just broke up with winter…..you got any plans this weekend?"

And that is why she is the girl for me.

Real Life Texts with T: Offensive Jersey Stereotypes edition

The backstory: On Wednesday, JT and I boarded our plane to New Jersey and it was immediately clear that my fellow passengers were a microcosm of the Garden State.  If you've been here, you know what that means.  If you haven't, I can't explain it without listing a range of stereotypes that will surely be found offensive by someone.  So you're going to have to trust me, Internet: this plane was all Jerseyed up.  I texted T with a report of conditions.

Me:  Plane is chock-full of Jersey trash so I will have a story or two to tell, I am sure.

T:  Say hi to Snooki & wash your hands twice.

And that's why she's the girl for me.