Singing the Praises of Winter Break

Turns out that bursting into my kid's room whilst belting out "School's out for Winter Break!" to the tune of Alice Cooper's "School's out for Summer" doesn't create the animated happy response I expected.  Is it because finals just ended and exhaustion has taken over?  Maybe.  Is it because it's only a two week break?  Possibly.  Is it that my rendition is some kind of awful?  The likeliest answer.

I'm good with that...because I've got two weeks off for fun with family, friends, art, writing, and doing absolutely nothing!

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It must be almost back to school time...

...because the nightmares have begun.  Now you all know I LOVE my job.  It's just one of those things I do.  I did it as a kid, too.  You know, showing up to school naked or just in PJs, not knowing about the HUGE test...stuff like that.

Well, last night's had me a bit shaken when I woke up.  You see, I showed up to work for my job, which had suddenly switched from working with three and four-year-olds to working with high school students (not a slight against them, I live with one, for Pete's sake!).  And they were BIGGER than I am.  Much bigger!  And I didn't really have a classroom, more of an industrial utility closet with pipes and conduit going everywhere, steam being released at irregular intervals, very dark and creepy.  And no one had given me any info on what my individual students' goals were.  And somehow all the parents managed to be able to drop off their children yet my assistant found herself locked out.  And the only curriculum like material I could find was incomplete game sets of Chutes and Ladders and Hi-ho!  Cherry-O.  And so we played them.  And then my assistant showed up.  And then I woke up.

And all was well...whew!


P.S.  Maybe someday I will get the privilege of working with high schoolers.  But, hey, I'd really like to have a real classroom and some real supplies.  Oh, and could they please be shorter than I am?

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A Little Something to Chew On

I quit my gum chewing habit about a month ago.  (I blogged about it because I'm a total dork - Quitting Gum Blog).  No, I didn't fall off the wagon...I still have not indulged.  But what I did do, or almost do, was almost as bad.  You see, the day after I quit I found three partial packs of gum in my school backpack.  I used my self control and tucked them into one of my drawers.  Happened to be my underwear drawer, but that's beside the point, until later that is.

A few days ago I noticed that my big guy had particularly minty breath, a large number of gum wrapper trash all over his desk, and a couple of pack containers.  I thought nothing of it except, perhaps, "poor little gum addict."  Then yesterday I remembered those packs of gum.  I figured, "Hey, I'll be a nice mom and give them to my kids."  You know, just a surprise gift for being awesome and all.  Or if I were to take my own experience with gum into consideration I guess it was more of a, "I'll contribute to the corruption of my children."

Anyway, I went to my drawer, dug around, and only found one pack.  One!  Being the master detective that I am, of course I remembered seeing those packs on my big guy's desk.  I stomped in there carrying the single pack I had found.


Me:  "Did you take two packs of gum out of my drawer?"

Big guy:  "Yup."  The kid is a terrible liar, eye brows getting all twitchy and such.  Thankfully!  Suppose that's why he confessed so easily.

Me:  "YOU DUG THROUGH MY UNDERWEAR DRAWER?!?!"

Big guy:  "Nope, I just got your gum."

Me:  "Just so you know, girls don't like that."


And I left and went into my little guy's room and gave him the remaining pack of gum.

...I need to find a new hiding place!

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Our Castle is Almost Complete

We're just four tiles away from having the kitchen/office/laundry room floor from being completed.  Not counting grout and sealing, and moving everything back in from the back yard and carport, of course.  I've been in charge of cementing and placing the tiles.  Dave's been in charge of doing all the cuts that are needed.

And, of course, Dave has come up with the word that totally defines our D.I.Y. project.

"roughstamation"

Yup, that's when you make a rough estimation of all the laying out and cutting.  And, I must say, it looks awesome!

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Large and in Charge

I had my annual physical...I know, "groooooan".  Worry not, I won't talk about the details.

But something really, really cool happened.  If you know me, you know that I'm petite, short, small in stature, whatnot.  I've thought for years that I was five feet tall.  I actually rejoiced that I'd made it a full sixty inches, people!  Well, when they measured me today it turns out that I'm actually five feet, one-and-a-half inches!!!  I made the lady do it twice to be sure.  So, if I present with some attitude when you see me next it's only because I'm now officially large and in charge.

Woot!

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That's what She Said

Sometimes I live in the land of lost conversations around here.  I tell my kids to do something and they deny that I ever said a thing.  I have entire conversations with Dave and he says it was all in my head. 

Now, it's true that some conversations I have with my family do happen entirely (or partially) in my head...but they're the conversations that I invite them into after, and only after, I've already gotten myself totally riled up by what the imaginary them said to me in my head.  Yup, those conversations always end well....

Anyway, I'm thinking I'm going to adopt a nonverbal system of communicating with my family.  You know, texting or in a note pad.  Something I can refer back to as evidence.  I think my family will balk at the idea at first, but once they realize how quiet the house is without my constant yammering, they'll surely embrace it.

I'll let you know how it goes.


P.S. OK, OK, full disclosure:  my family does hear and respond to a lot of what I say...it's just those silly ones where they don't that stick out in my mind...I'm neurotic like that.

This painting/gift card is available for purchase at:  Flower Family

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Trying a New Thing

Trying new things can be soooooo scary!  It's funny, I've always told my kids, "Hey, just try it, it doesn't matter how well you do, just go for it."  But it's hard to live by my own words.  It's not that I'm not willing to try new things.  I am!  It's the whole part of "it doesn't matter how well you do" part that gets me every time.

Anyway, last night I took the opportunity to do some glass work with friends.  I was making a little sushi type dish and found myself just staring at my little blank canvas...thinking, "I don't want to screw this up!  Especially in front of my group of lovely creative ladies!!"  I picked some colors, cut some glass, lay stuff, scrapped the entire thing completely, started again...and then I remembered and somehow managed to fully embrace "it doesn't matter how well you do".  And then I had so much fun!  And I loved what I and everyone else created!

Course I am having a little tingle of nervousness as I await the firing and final result...I am neurotic, after all.

This painting/gift card is available for purchase here:  Spring Flower

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Duck, Duck, Goose!

Actually it was more like goose, goose, GOOSE, GOOSE, GOOSE, GOOSE, GOOSE, GOOSE, DUCK, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, GOOSE, GOOSE, GOOSE, GOOSE, GOOSE, GOOSE.

All caps for big 'uns, lower case for little 'uns.

Dave and I went on the most wonderful walk today and had the most fabulous encounters with ducks and geese...and these ducks and geese were decidedly not from Texas.  My encounters with ducks in Austin has been that of pure avoidance, and likely fear on their part.  My encounters with geese in Austin has been that of pure avoidance, and definitely fear on my part.

Well, these Oregonian ducks and geese were delightful.  They let us approach them and their young.  The geese even let Dave become an honorary goose, tagging along at the end of their line for a bit.

Duck, duck, goose...pretty sure I'm gonna like that game a bit more from now on.

This painting/gift card is available for purchase at:  Have a Heart

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Juxtaposition Pizza

I love the word.  I love the concept.  I love stumbling across it, and finding myself silently saying, "hmmmmmmm..."

Yesterday I was thrilled to come across a delightful scene rocking juxtaposition...and it made me ever so happy.


So, here ya go, panning left to right:

- a group of folks (men, women, and children) dressed in prairie time-ish garb, singing Christian hymns, and handing out literature.

- a guy with a mohawk selling a 20" Redline bicycle so he could afford to move on to the next town.  If that bike would've fit in my luggage I so would've set him up with some traveling cash.

- a fella selling silk screened shirts with a design of his own on them.  He made a big point of telling me how great the city was for homeless people and how many services there were available.  And then he told me he wanted to leave town.

- a group of people drumming and dancing.

- a bunch of families picnicking.

- a guy on a bicycle with a fake chicken on it.

- a lady holding a dog with sunglasses.

- a man going back and forth hitting, opening, closing, moving, adjusting a row of newspaper vending machines over and over.  And then hitting them all with his jacket.  And then he'd start the sequence all over again.  In hindsight I wish I'd hooked him up with the fella who knew about the services for homeless people.


It was a juxtaposition pizza...filled with slices and bits and pieces of life from all sorts, all amazing in their own way.

I loved it!

This painting/gift card available for purchase here:  Bubbly Flower

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Gas on the Plane

I had the occasion to fly recently.  Super early wake up for a super early security process for a super early flight...that was delayed one hour and fifteen minutes.

And then I was super sleepy as was pretty much everyone else on the plane.  And many of them were actually sleeping.  Mouths agape, head lolled in a way that I just knew they'd wake up in pain, and I was filled with sleepy dreams envy!

Now, not that I didn't try to go to sleep myself.  I did.  "Try," that is...not "go".  I snuggled with my sweater, I adjusted my head and body just so, I pretended I was floating on clouds (not a stretch), and then anxiety hit.  Not the anxiety about safety and what not.  Nope.  The anxiety about gas.  Yes, putting it out there publically...I'm fart-phobic.

You see, I've been told that on occasion I cut the cheese, step on a frog, pass a bit of gas, when I'm sleeping.  Now, honestly, I could give a hoot when I'm at home amongst those I love and adore, but the last thing I want to see is the awkward "You are nasty!" look from the fella in the seat beside me when I wake up.

Yup, this girl stayed awake...with her eyes shut.

This painting/gift card available for purchase at:  Psychedelic Butterfly

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I'm Making Dorky Cool

I've been reunited...with my bike!  And I'm so, so, so happy!

You see, I live at the top of a hill and pretty much everywhere I need to go on my bike (aside from work) requires that I ride down a fairly steep hill.  My bike, which is a fairly old cruiser with no bells and whistles.  It's stripped down, no reflectors, no gears, no kickstand, only rear brakes...and that is all.  And I LOVE IT!  Well, I loved it until a couple of years ago, that is.  Somehow the awareness of my mortality kicked up a notch, just as it has been doing bit by bit since I hit my thirties.  Anyway, blazing down those steep hills with only a rear brake that worked-ish was getting to me.  I found myself making plans for if/when the cable snapped or some other such failure thing occurred.  My plan?  Well, do the Flinstone's version of braking of course.  Yup, I'd be draggin' my feet, and hopin' and prayin' I'd come to a stop before I hit the busy street.  My other plan?  Slam into the curb at my right and flip over my bike and land in the rocky/thistley terrain.

So I worked with that plan for a while and then I came to the conclusion that, hey, I could resolve this whole issue if I just took my bike to a shop and got a front break.  Tah-da!  Problem solved, right?  I loaded my bike in Dave's car and headed to the bike shop.


Me:  "I want to get a front brake put on my bike because I have to go down steep hills a lot and I feel nervous about depending on just my back brake."

Bike service guy:  "You don't want to do that to this bike.  It won't look cool."

Me:  "Oh."


And I left the shop.  And I stopped riding my bike...completely...except for riding to work as no hills are involved.  And my heart was a little broken.


Two years later.  Yesterday I found myself gazing at my bike and longing to go on the long rides we used to love sharing with each other.  Need I remind you that I'm pretty much in love with my bike?  So, my big guy was willing to take me and my bike in his car to the bike shop...a different one.


Me:  "I want to get a front brake put on my bike because I have to go down steep hills a lot and I feel nervous about depending on just my back brake.  I know it won't look cool, but I just want to feel safe."

Bike service guy:  "Oh, sure.  It's a great old bike.  Let me show you what we have."

Me:  "Oh, yay!"


And just a few hours later I got a call that my bike was ready.  Dave and I went to get it...and my bike, she looked lovely, amazing, and decidedly cool.

And this morning I got up bright and early and my bike and I went for one of our long and day dreamy rides.  Bliss!


This is what I looked like when I was riding my bike...only my eyes were open...and I was wearing a helmet...and all my crazy hair was tied back...and there were only flowers on the ground.  OK, maybe this is just how I felt when I was riding my bike.

This painting is available for purchase at:  Blissed Out Hippie Chick

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