The one crappy comment

Why is it that you can have 100 people say something nice to you, and yet it's the one nasty comment you hear that actually sticks with you?

This week was parent/teacher interview week, and all of my interviews went extremely well....except for one. There was one parent who came in ready for attack and proceeded to use the time to take repeated verbal stabs at me, basically calling me a bad teacher, and saying I wasn't doing enough for her daughter.

Even though all the other parents were great, she's the one that I keep thinking about.

I'm doing my best to forget about it. I would hate for someone that horrible to ruin my entire weekend. Instead, I'm going to think about good things, like kittens, fluffy clouds, and cheese.

Yes, that should do it. If all else fails, I think Chris has a bottle of wine and some raspberry Sour Puss at his place that may help me feel better, as well!

snow sculptures

Last week, right before I got sick, Chris and I made a couple of snow sculptures in Brampton. I'll put the pictures of mine first, since mine wasn't nearly as good as his!

This is my dragon from the front. It's kind of hard to see, but you can see the face if you look really closely.

Again, not so easy to see, but you kind of get the idea of his body size.

I was very proud of him at the time.

And this is Chris's masterpiece. My sculpture was behind his, so I didn't even see the front of his until mine was finished. He totally put me to shame.

Apparently he based it on a bunch of statues he'd seen in Japan.

Snow is definitely his medium.

And finally, here I am with a few new friends that I made that day. These ducks were actually stepping on my feet. I've never had them that close before, which is probably why I look a tad nervous in the picture.

It was an awesome day.

not exactly what you'd call romance

This weekend my boyfriend decided to be wonderful and booked us a room at an extremely nice (read: expensive) hotel. I went and ruined the whole weekend by being sick the entire time. It's not exactly romantic when you're throwing up every half hour.

I feel bad.