Half a year later

As you can read from those last two posts, I did something at the end of July that took me in a completely different direction than I had anticipated.

Apparently, I had also intended to blog about my experiences teaching middle school on a separate blog (hence the two posts I just found)

But in the words of Sweet Brown- "ain't nobody got time for that."

Too much has happened in the last five months to even begin to write about it all, but let's just summarize with this statement:

I forgot about my word of the year.

I took a full-time teaching job on a whim- the exact opposite of being deliberate. It has proven to be a decision that I regret on an almost daily basis.

I completely forgot about this blog until about 6 weeks ago, and even then I only recalled my word of the year. I did not go back and read anything I had written on this blog until yesterday. And, y'all- I cannot begin to tell you the amount of heartache I could have saved myself if I had, because as I am rereading what I wrote in the first half of 2017, nearly everything that has happened since then is in direct contrast to what I intended.

Let's take away the "has happened" and be honest: these things did not just happen. I put myself in a place where I would let them happen, and in some cases even deliberately pursued them.

A few weeks ago, I realized that deliberate had irrevocably been thrown out the window, and there was no way to undo that.  And if you can't undo something, what can you do but keep moving forward? 

Today, especially, I am looking forward, but to do that I also need to take a long, deliberate look back. I didn't realize how much introspection I had done while writing here, and how therapeutic it is.

As I'm rereading my past year I'm intrigued to find that the end of summer/beginning of school seems to be a falling-off point in blogging for me, based on this post.

Lots to think about.

Second time around (also a post from July)

I was hired 5 days before the start of the school year. Two of those days I spent in new teacher training for the entire school system. Two of them will be spent doing school-based training. And the one lonely day in the middle was fairly useless because I don't have a lot of the supplies I need and my fellow teachers were not at the school because who works on the last day of summer vacation?

I have no textbooks (the curriculum standards were changed over the summer, with no time to purchase textbooks that correspond to what I'm supposed to be teaching) and I have zero materials. To be honest, I'm a little fuzzy on what I'm even supposed to be teaching because the standards are written in very vague and lofty terms.

During the system-wide training, I was inundated with information. This is not the same profession that I started in twenty years ago. The emphasis now is on incorporating technology and improving test scores, and everything is data-driven. The formatted lesson plans I worked from last year, as a substitute teacher, were abhorrent to me. It looked like a giant, disgusting checklist and you had to make sure all of the boxes were filled with the right criteria. Everybody worked from the same type of lesson plans and there was little (if any) autonomy within your grade and subject area to do your own thing. No room for creativity. No room for fun. Just do what everybody else is doing, and don't go against the flow.

I knew all of this when I accepted the job, and knew that my administrators are very results oriented. Our school looks good on paper, and they want that to continue. I was honest with them about my concerns during my interview, so they can't say they didn't know what they were getting when they hired me.

I can work within their system, because this is my second time around.

I'm not worried.

I'm not worried about earning their approval during observations of my lessons. It's just a job, a job I chose because I want to teach young people, not because I want to be a robot teacher in their system. If they don't like what I'm doing, they will let me know and we will come to an understanding and I will leave. Hopefully it will be my choice and not theirs.

I'm not worried about ensuring that every one of my students masters every item on the syllabus because, you know what? They won't. And I can't make them.

One of the other new teachers I met this week said that her interview for this job was the hardest she'd ever experienced. I was befuddled by this statement; maybe because I was frequently part of the interviewing process in my last job, and maybe because I already knew the interviewers, but mostly because I knew they were pretty desperate to fill the position in less than a week.

My self-worth is not based on what people- even employers- think of me. This is my second time around, and I am confident in who I am and what I know my purpose to be. I don't have to have a Pinterest-worthy classroom, and I don't have to spend hours and money creating new and innovative lessons to impress students.

My purpose is to make these tweens feel loved, and accepted, and worthy. I'll be grateful if they learn some science along the way, but if they end this year believing in themselves, then that's all the validation I need.

A post from the end of July (or, why I haven't written since July)

Upon graduating from college with a degree in middle grades education, I taught in public middle schools for three years. I was young, newly married and had nothing else going on in my life. I mostly enjoyed my job, and probably would have continued teaching if not for the birth of my first child (followed by two others within the next 4 years).

I spent the better part of the next 13 years at home, and for the majority of that time frame I was either homeschooling my own children, tutoring homeschooled students of all ages, or both. A wonderful job opportunity led me to work in student affairs at a local university when my children got older, and I enjoyed that job for 3 years.

Then, we moved across the country.

We moved to a state none of us had ever been to before, where we knew no one and were literally a thousand miles away from our friends and family. I enrolled all of my children in public middle & high schools (one of them for the first time!) to encourage opportunities to make friends and get involved in our new town. But what about me? Where could I enroll myself?

I did think about literally enrolling in classes, either a new course of study at a community college or beginning to work on my master's degree in some education-related field. The knowledge that we would (hopefully) not be stationed in our new state for more than a few years stopped me from committing myself to such a lengthy and potentially very expensive undertaking that I may not be able to complete.

So I feel back into what I knew: teaching. I was hired as a substitute for the local school system, and I spent 2 months hopping from school to school, across all subjects and grades. I finally got an opportunity to work at the middle school my child attended, and after establishing myself as a trustworthy individual, found that I had enough job opportunities to work exclusively at that one school with the occasional day spent at the high school next door. I got to know the teachers and students, and it felt like home.

I found that subbing was an ideal fit for me because I could easily take a day off when I had other things to attend to, I didn't have to deal with parents, and I only had to deal with paperwork on the rarest of occasions. Still, there were weeks when I only had a day or two of work and more so than missing the financial compensation (because, let's be honest- substitute teachers are not in it for the money!), I missed being a part of the school community.

I knew there were some job openings at my school of choice, but for a variety of reasons I chose not to pursue them. My primary deterrent was being complicit in a data-driven system where standardized test scores are more important than actually teaching and mentoring young people.  I had a change of heart less than two weeks before our school year was set to begin, and mentioned to the principal that I was available and interested if a teaching position were to become available. Two days later, I received a call informing me that there was an unexpected vacancy in the 6th grade science department and would I be interested?

I said yes, and now I am days away from welcoming more than a hundred students to middle school. My classroom looks very naked compared to those around me since I long since parted with my humble stash of schoolroom supplies. I am relying on lesson plans and materials provided by my fellow 6th grade science teachers since I have no time to prepare my own.

And you know what? I am just fine.
Hakuna matata.

Campcraft

I've been out of state for 3 glorious weeks:

• 1 week at Boy Scout camp in Mississippi
• 1 week of visiting friends and family in North Carolina
• 1 week of Boy Scout camp in North Carolina

Always needing to have some small craft and not wanting to take a lot of supplies, I opted for working on an old-school friendship bracelet in Mississippi

and taught some staff members in North Carolina how to make lanyards with plastic lace, which I forgot to take pictures of

image snagged from https://wanelo.com/store/keys2please

Before leaving, I also finished my t-shirt rug!

it was no, after all

After a month of agonizing, thinking, planning, what if-ing, the door is closed.

The job that I wanted, and made it to the final interview for, was offered to someone else.

I couldn't have done anything differently or better. The interviewers/hirers know me, and know that I can do the job because I have done the job before. But they chose someone else.

I'm not going to lie. It hurt a little that someone was deemed better than me. I am very curious to find out who the new hire is (God bless the internet and the fact that I will easily be able to do this in about 2 months when websites are updated).

At the same time, I am enormously relieved that I don't have to put my kids in the position of having to make the choice about where they want to live. I have a lot of things already planned for this summer, so I'm glad that I don't have to add "pack up my life to move" to the list.

But I'm sad, too. There were so many things I was looking forward to about living in North Carolina again. Friends, food, and family will have to continue to wait for me, and I for them.

In my heart of hearts, I knew my work here was not done. I will continue to substitute teach, to lead a Scout troop, and to chaperone high school band events. I will invest in these people for another year.

And I will also have an exit strategy.

This WILL be our final year living in Louisiana. We WILL be putting our house on the market next spring. My kids and their friends and mine will know that we will be leaving at the end of next school year. Having closure in  advance, knowing that something is going to happen a year ahead of time, is a luxury that will be afforded to us.

My prayer is that we will be able to return to our home in North Carolina. My prayer is that a year's notice will be enough closure time for us. My prayer is that there are jobs waiting for my husband and I. My prayer is that we can sell this house quickly. My prayer is for patience in the waiting.

349 days to go. The countdown is back on.

in knots

3 weeks ago, my job was posted.

Today, I have a phone interview, and my stomach is in knots.

I am interviewing for a position that I held just 362 days ago. I know every question that is on the interview sheet; I asked these questions of candidates when I helped conduct this same interview last year to find my replacement. I know the interviewers; they were coworkers and supervisors for 3 years. I'd like to say I have nothing to be nervous about, but that would be a lie.

I'm nervous that they might say yes. I'm nervous about asking my kids to leave the friends they just made when they moved to Louisiana 10.5 months ago. Today is the last day of school here. What if they're never going back to their schools here? Last year they knew they were saying goodbye to school friends in NC, at least temporarily. They would be thrilled to reconnect at their old schools if we move back, not to mention they'd get almost an entire extra month of summer vacation due to schedule differences.

This is not a place we'd return to, though. When we leave, it will be a permanent move. I certainly don't plan to make the 30 hour round-trip drive just so teenagers can visit their friends, but I don't want to invalidate their feelings because they have actually made some good friends here. I can't even ask them if they'd want to move back, though, not until I know if it is a valid option. It would've devastating to get them thinking about moving back, only to find out that I didn't get the job.

I walked out of my school today with kids asking if I would be back next year. I couldn't resoundingly tell them yes, because I may not. "I plan to" was the best response I could muster, because I will most likely be substitute teaching there if this is where I live.

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In other knot news, I came across a baggie full of hemp cord while I was cleaning up the other day. As I think back on it, macrame was one of the first crafts I learned, using this book.

I made a LOT of really ugly plant holders when I was in elementary school! God bless my aunt who graciously accepted them, and I think to this day may be using one on her porch.

The knots and patterns came back to me quickly and I put together this little bracelet. Knots are much better worn as jewelry than in the stomach. 

inspiration

I spend a lot of time on Facebook; mostly lurking, rarely posting. I can't help it. I love to know what people are talking about and see pictures of what they're doing. I often draw motivation to create when I see pictures of what my friends are creating.

One of my dearest friends surprised me a few months ago when she started posting pictures of colorful yarn creations, which was a departure from her usual mediums of painting and flowers. I am consistently encouraged by her truth-speaking motivational posts and I love seeing her passionate spirit at work in everything she does.

For her birthday, I chose to cross stitch the lyrics from an Indigo Girls song that has been on my heart for several years now as our friends and fellow citizens become more divided than ever by politics, beliefs, prejudices, and the like.

Let it be me

(this is not a fighting song)

Let it be me

(not a wrong for a wrong)

Let it be me

If the world is night

Shine my life like a light

I found inspiration on the Pinterest page of another friend. I've gotten to the point where I instinctively know whose pin I'm seeing on my feed, even before I see the name, because I'm familiar with boards they have created. This sweet friend recently lost her mother very unexpectedly. She lives far away from me and seinding a sympathy card seemed like such a meaningless gesture. I rarely talk to her, but I know so much about her through her social media pages. Recently, she's been pinning a lot of bee related images, and I felt urged to cross stitch a simple bee emblem for her.

summer camp pajamas

In the Spring, a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love

With apologies to Alfred, Lord Tennyson, in the spring a not-so-young woman's fancy strongly turns to thoughts of summer camp (which pretty much equals love for me).

I had a long summer camp hiatus when my kids were growing up, but I got back as soon as I could. In 2010, I was able to go to a 3 night Cub Scout camp with my two older boys. I went in 2013 and 2014 with my youngest son, and graduated to Boy Scout camp with all 3 of them for the past 2 summers.

Prior to my 2010 camp experience, I felt compelled to make myself a new pair or pajama shorts. I'm not sure what I was wearing at home at the time, but I instinctively knew that summer camp was an occasion for new pajamas.

One of the summer camps I used to work at holds a staff reunion weekend every other year; I got to attend in 2011 and, wouldn't you know it, ended up making a pair of pajama pants for the occasion. When I realized this camp/pajama connection in my life a few weeks ago it was like a light bulb went off: "pajama breakfast" was a weekly event at both camps I worked at, and it was definitely an occasion to dress up for! Of course, pajama breakfast is not a thing in Boy Scouts, but I do need to look presentable for late night/early morning trips to the latrine.

Sadly, I wore out my 2010 pajama shorts and found myself in need of a new pair, so I scoured Pinterest for a pattern to use up some of my fabric. To say I have a lot of fabric is a gross understatement, but I tend to hoard it and save each piece for just the right project. I have some fabrics that were given to me and while I didn't particularly like them, they were good quality and at least a yard so I knew I would use them for something, someday.

The colors in this fabric are NOT my colors; I never in a million years would have purchased this fabric, but  it instantly came to mind when I discovered the free City Gym Shorts pattern & tutorial by Purl Soho.  I initially planned to use an orchid colored bias tape for the trim, but I LOVE how the turquoise pops against these warm pastel hues. Incidentally, I made the bias tape myself- it was my first time doing so and certainly won't be my last! It won't be my last time using this pattern, either. I am crazy in love with the bias tape and curved hemline.

For my next pair, I plan to draft side front pockets, and change the waistband up a little bit, but I'm definitely hooked! The tutorial was well written and easy to follow, and it's easy enough for someone with very little sewing experience.

house projects, revisited

Last year at this time, I was elbow-deep in home repairs & renovations as I simultaneously tried to make my house livable AND get it ready to sell (all while holding down a job, single-parenting 3 teen- and tween-aged boys, and packing up to move across the country)

Honestly? I miss house projects so much! When we were shopping for a house in Louisiana, I was pretty burned out from the remodeling scene. My purchasing criteria revolved largely around the move-in readiness of the house, and we settled on a house that was built in 2006, which is 3 decades newer than any house we'd ever owned before! The paint colors were great, the flooring was acceptable, and in we moved.

Carpet ran through the living room, down the hall into the den, and into all bedrooms. It was 10 years old and cheap, but neutral. The large kitchen/dining area was demarcated by vinyl tile which was in good enough shape and looked nice, but the division line between the carpet and title was too glaring for me. I've also surmised that Louisianians are not huge fans of carpet in the main areas of the house, as evidenced by the many, many tiled and wood/laminate floored living rooms I visited while house hunting.

A few months ago we committed to a unified floor for the living room, kitchen, and hallway, and purchased a dark hickory laminate from Home Depot. Because the area being covered was so large (and mostly because there are a million angles and things to cut around). we splurged on professional installation. The company came out and measured, we placed the order and Matt picked up all the materials to save on delivery costs.

2 months and a few subfloor issues later, we're ready for installation later this week. The carpet was ripped out over a month and a half ago (we've been living with plywood floors and relocated furniture... but that's another story), and the final step was removing the vinyl tiles from the kitchen. They're 12" x 24" and STICKY... and it's a big room. We can't take it all out right now because STICKY, but we can't leave it all for the night before because this stuff it a major pain to remove. I pulled about 10 tiles last night and had to stop. My hands hurt so much! The effort requires a combination of crowbar (which gets STICKY) and peeling tiles back by hand (hands also get STICKY) and lots of bending over and kneeling on the floor.

vinyl sticky tiles over sheet vinyl. classy.

Today I paid a kid $10 to pull up 30 tiles and it was the best money I've spent in a long time. He's on to how much work it is and I'm not sure he's desperate enough for money to do 30 more... and there's about 200 more that have to come up before Wednesday morning.

Side note- the dog doesn't understand sticky floor residue and seeing him get stuck when he walks across the area where we've removed the tile is hilarious. It doesn't seem to hurt or bother him, but the sound his paws make when he tries to walk is awesome.

just. say. no.

I was asked to go on a trip that I really wanted to go on.

I was needed on this trip.

I tried to find ways to make it work, but the timing just wasn't right.

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I am selfish. I want what I want, when I want it, and I don't want to pay for it. Gimme gimme gimme.

I am an adult, and a mother, and a wife. I have obligations and commitments that I can't shake off. I can't buy things I can't afford, and go places just because I want to.

----------

I said no to the trip.

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Not right away.

I thought about it for a long time, and one morning I woke up with a complete peace that saying no was the right thing.

But I still didn't say no.

Someone, that very evening that I decided to say no, had me second guessing my choice.

So I went on trying to think of ways to justify doing something that I wasn't even sure I wanted to do, anymore.

Making choices can be paralyzing. Commitment can feel oppressive. Doubt can pull you under.

-----------

I did say no. And now it's an official no and I don't have to think about it anymore.

I wanted to do it, but the timing wasn't right, so I made the adult decision and said no.



But apparently I'm not done saying no.

~~~~~~

This job thing has got me all kinds of heart-wrenchingly torn.

I want it. I want this job again. I want to move back to North Carolina. EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS SEEMS RIGHT... except it's not.

~~~~~~

My husband is not onboard with moving right now.

And in my heart, I know it's not time. I feel like my work here is not done. I don't want to be here, but I know I'm not done and that's the worst kind of paradoxical hole to be in. To have not just a rope thrown to you to help you climb out of a deep well, but to be sent some kind of hoverboard platform to gently rise you out. A sparkly hoverboard at that. One that it would make no sense in the world not to climb onto.

And so I hesitate. I waiver. I decide, and then recant, and then change my mind again.

I will.

I won't.

Can't I just try? Can't I just see if it's a yes? And if it is a yes, then I can decide?

~~~~~~

I can't stand the not knowing, the "what if."

something has changed within me

I usually look on the job boards for Elon about once a week, to see if anything new and interesting has opened up. Why Elon? Well, because it's home and it's comfortable and it's familiar. I truly did LOVE working there and I miss my interactions with college students. It's where I bELONg (yes, I know it's cheesy but it's an Elon thing and I will do it until I die).

I've seen a few job postings that I would be a good candidate for, but none of them interested me enough to even consider applying. I still follow several Elon departments on social media and saw a Twitter post indicating that a favorite staff member of mine was going to retire, so of course I immediately went to the job postings to see if the listing for that position was up yet [this is just a person I know and have worked with, not someone whose job I wanted to snatch up.]

And then it happened.

My job was listed.

Not my job exactly, but a parallel job that has the exact same responsibilities, only in a different location on campus.

Even better? This position is full-time (hello, benefits!) without being 40 hours a week, 50 weeks a year.

And yet...

I'm (?) not ready (?) to go back yet (?)

I know, right?

What even????

My entire existence for the last 10 months has been figuring out how to get away from Louisiana and move back home. And dammit, despite myself, I have settled in here. I have formed relationships that I'm not ready to sever.

I still want to move back with every fiber of my being, but I have done such a monumental job of telling myself that it will be at least another year before Matt will be ready to consider looking for another job, that I actually don't know what I even want anymore.

But I don't want it -

No - I can't want it

Anymore

Something has changed within me

Something is not the same

(to be continued)

a three hour tour

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale

a tale of a fateful trip,

that started from this tropic port,

aboard this tiny ship.

The mate was a mighty sailin' man,

the Skipper brave and sure,

five passengers set sail that day,

for a three hour tour,

a three hour tour.

12:30 pm

12 boys and 3 leaders board a tiny ship small church bus to drive to Dallas (estimated travel time, 3 hours). Trip itinerary includes touring the National Scout Museum, rock climbing, an overnight stay and a Dallas Rangers baseball game the following day. Depart from the non-tropic port of Shreveport. Gilligan at the wheel, the Skipper and Mary Ann on navigational duties.

1:30 pm, Longview TX

Gilligan, Skipper and Mary Ann hear an odd flapping noise and pull the Minnow over to see what's happening under the hood. Broken serpentine belt. Church bus insurance company does not respond to calls on the weekend. Finally find a mechanic who will bring the part to the bus and repair it. Move boys across the street to Taco Bell and settle in for the duration.

5:15 pm

After several trips to and from the parts shop, the bus is fixed. Museum visit is now void, but rock climbing is still on when we arrive in Dallas in 2 hours.

The weather started getting rough,

the tiny ship was tossed.

If not for the courage of the fearless crew

the Minnow would be lost.

The Minnow would be lost.

(from this point forward, all posts should be read with tornado alert sirens imagined in the background, because that was our soundtrack for the next 4+ hours)

5:30 pm, Lindale TX

Tornado warnings nudge us off the road for a dinner stop at Cracker Barrel. Actual verified tornadoes on the ground 40 miles to the west, blocking our passage to Dallas.

6:30 pm

Dinner eaten, and tornadoes north of the interstate. Back on the road. 

7:15 pm, Van TX

Back off the road. Our personal NOAA weatherman advised that new tornadoes were continuing to form 10 miles to the west of us. Gather boys into a gas station restaurant. Gilligan reconfigures a plan to bypass the line of storms by driving us south then up to Dallas, making the ETA for climbing wall after 10pm

8:00 pm

NOAA weatherman tells us to leave immediately and drive east as fast as we can. When NOAA man says go, you GO! 

8:15 pm

Decision is made to abort the mission and return to Shreveport for the night. Tornado warnings follow us east until we are past Longview, TX. We arrive back at the church around 10:30 pm, with plans to leave 10 hours later for the baseball game.

And we did. It was a beautiful sunny (if very windy) day, and the three-hour drive took only three hours. As we passed each place we had stopped the night before, I knew we were about to see some devastating damage that occurred along the interstate at the Canton Dodge dealership. 

Interstate traffic slowed to a crawl at the site, as each car drove slowly past, trying to take in the complete and utter devastation of the site. I didn't take any pictures; pictures can't do it justice. I did lift these from some other sites, though.

(image from http://www.thedrive.com)

(image from http://www.dallasnews.com)

The second image is the one I find more haunting, although I'm not sure why. I don't think I'll ever forget the skeleton of this building with its entrails pulled out.

Back on track

I've gotten distracted, y'all.

I'm supposed to be finishing projects, not starting new ones. Recent social and political goings-on have distracted and inspired me to be making new things, but I need to get back on track.

Here are two rugs which I started working on 2 springs ago, in preparation for use at summer camp. I'm hoping THIS will be the summer that at least one of them makes it to my tent!

Both are made from old t-shirts that had were worn out with holes or stains. And I confess, maybe one or two colors were purchased just to add to the mix.

The first one I started without a pattern; it's just rows of single stitch crochet in a rainbow stripe pattern. It goes together pretty quickly once the shirts are cut and rolled into "yarn" balls.

disclaimer: immediately after taking this picture, I disassembled this rug and started over

The second rug I am braiding and hand-stitching the coils with heavy-duty thread. It is very time consuming, but I love the way it's turning out! My middle son has already claimed this one. Right now, it's about 14" in diameter. 

come on baby, finish what you started

So during my Mardi Gras road trip, I intended to finish a scarf that I had started last fall. I grabbed the project bag with all the yarns, needles, and scarf-in-progress and knew that I could get it done in the car, and I probably could have... if I had the pattern instructions.

It's a chevron pattern that is easily memorized, but not so easily discerned by looking at it, due to increases and decreases.

I remembered that the original pattern featured red & blue yarns, so I went to ravelry and filtered scarf patterns by craft (knitting), yarn (worsted), and availability (free). This took me to just under 2000 patterns which I started to scan for red & blue colors. All to no avail. So now what? How do I finish a scarf without a pattern? I have cut and pieced several yarns, so I can't very well undo it.

When I got home from my trip, I tracked down the pattern on my computer and saved the instructions. Still, it's mentally hard to knit a scarf in the springtime so I've set this one aside, again.

Here is the pattern link, in case I need it next fall ;-)

fraternities I have joined (the past 2 weekends)

Two weekends ago, I walked into the first 3 days of a 6-day leadership training seminar. I knew absolutely no one, and within the first 2 hours I was feeling overwhelmed and like I had joined a cult.

• there was a strict dress code, which varied based on where you were and what the leader was wearing
• there was frequent singing
• there were lots of little rules- where you could sit, when you could sit down, in what order you lined up
• there was little free time

Sounds like a nightmare, right?

I'll admit, by lunchtime on the first day I was seriously wondering what I had gotten myself into.

But, as is the case with fraternities, strangers quickly became friends and by the end of the weekend it felt like the real world no longer existed. It was exhausting, but I felt supported and the expectations were clearly laid out.

This was Wood Badge, the premier adult leader training session for the Boy Scouts of America, and I can't wait for next month when we complete the second half of the course.

3 days later, a 5 hour trip with my husband turned into 7 because of traffic, and when we arrived at the hotel there was a problem with our reservation and we had no room for the night on a weekend that every hotel in and around the city was booked.

We went to New Orleans for Mardi Gras, y'all.

When you live in Louisiana (even if it is the exact opposite corner of the state), you might as well do it right! I'm into taking advantage of every opportunity while we are stationed here, and through his work, hubs managed to get invited to one of the major Mardi Gras balls in New Orleans.

I found myself a formal-length gown for Sunday night, but for the rest of the weekend I had no idea what to expect. The word most frequently used by friends to describe New Orleans is "dirty" and I was expecting to be immersed in a lecherous, filthy and not-entirely-safe pit of debauchery, I had no plans to like New Orleans. I just wanted to make it through the weekend.

We managed to get a room at a different hotel on Friday night and were blessed to be traveling with one of Matt's co-workers who used to work in the city, so we at least had half a clue about things like where to park.

Once again, there was a dress code for the weekend that varied based on where you were. In the streets, everyone was wearing purple, green and gold as much as possible. Funny hats, beads, masks, tutus, and full-on costumes were the norm. 

We did a LOT of walking, collected a lot of beads, and ate some really amazing food. The city is beautiful; there is a lot of great architecture and no shortage of unique shops to pop into. Yes, Bourbon Street was pretty gross, even before 10 am, but there was nothing obscene and I did not feel unsafe at all while I was in the city.

Mardi Gras really is a thing unto itself, aside from anything else going on in the city. There is a parade route where people literally camp out all day to watch the various Krewes roll by. We accidentally strolled onto a corner of the route and found an immediate sense of community. There were people of all ages, locals & out-of-towners. Everyone was very generous, sharing chairs, offering beers, and distributing the immense quantity of beads that were thrown.

I didn't love New Orleans the ways some people seem to. I'm glad I went, but I don't feel compelled to go back. But Mardi Gras... THAT was fun! I can see why people come back every year to celebrate. While it is a hassle to navigate the city with so many roads blocked off for parades, and parking was ridiculously expensive, I wouldn't hesitate to go back for Mardi Gras weekend, especially now that I know to bring a cooler, chair, sunscreen, and bags to collect beads.

As for the ball itself, let's just say it's not anything that Cinderella would recognize as a ball. This is how I summarized it:

Imagine you're at a rave, but everyone is wearing tuxedos and ball gowns and pulling coolers full of alcohol. And the Main Street Electrical Parade rolls through an indoor venue, with each float throwing the entire contents of Oriental Trading Company at you. And most everyone is drunk.

That's a Mardi Gras ball.  

finally finished, part 1

I am gong to celebrate my finished projects; the works-in-progress that I deliberately complete before moving on to new things (mostly).

See, I have actually started and finished 3 little cross stitch projects in the past week, including this one.

But let's refer back to my first two official finish-it-up projects that I blogged about here:

I finished these mittens!

The pattern is "Midge" by Berroco, worked with Patons's Kroy Socks Jaquard in Denim.

I finished this cross stitch... mostly. I'm still leaning toward using it as part of a pillow cover, but we'll see. At least the cross stitch part is completed.

I wish I could give better credit for the pattern but I can't find it anywhere on the internet. It's called Phoenix Rising by R. Lawler, and like I said, I modified the thread colors to better represent my alma mater.

birdhouse in your soul

You might be 2 days into a head and chest cold that leaves you coughing every few minutes.

The weather might be inexplicably warm for a February morning. So warm that you open doors and windows to enjoy the sunshine, breeze, and windchimes.

Your best friend from high school might be celebrating a milestone birthday this weekend. 

You might be undecided about making the 9 hour drive, each way, to her house to celebrate, especially given how you're feeling right now.

But you might also be compelled to begin a birthday present for her, regardless.

Regardless of sickness, distance, or other works in progress (they're both almost done, anyway.)

You might choose happy colors based on an equally happy song, and immediately get to work.    

Time is of the essence.

Make a little birdhouse in your soul.

Non-fiber crafts

I know, I know... it's been weeks since I've posted craft pictures. I'm making slow progress on the mittens & cross stitch, but the end is in sight for both! Pictures very soon!

Yesterday I decided to venture into my crap craft hole and "clean up." I have heard rumors that my husband is talking about other uses for the third of the den that my disorganized chaos is currently occupying, so I'm trying to get ahead of the game and make my space seem organized and presentable.

Here are three projects that I knocked out:

• Map Letters

I bought these wooden letters for a Cub Scout game 3 or 4 years ago, and have held on to them because I was going to do "something" with them. As I was unpacking this past summer, I found a map of North & South Carolina from back in the days when maps were a thing you needed to keep in your car (our kids will never know... sigh...), so suffice it to say it was pretty outdated. Some Modpodge and strategic positioning let me place some of my favorite locations on each letter.

Shout out to when "Elon College" was a place!

With my leftover map, I covered a small Pringles can which I have been using as a pencil holder. The strip of map I had left over from the letters was not quite wide enough to cover the whole can, but a border of washi tape that was gifted to me this Christmas completed the project nicely.

• Modpodge all the Pringles cans!

My youngest has a thing for Pringles, and I have a thing for wanting to organize my knitting needle collection, so I asked him to give me his used cans. While I was organizing yesterday, I found some pictures that I scavenged from my eldest's Star Wars photo-a-day 2016 calendar which he packed up last February before our first move, and found mid-January 2017. I didn't have any specific reason for saving them, I just liked them and knew I'd find a use for them.

A little strategic placement found that 6 pictures would fit nicely on a tall Pringles can with the empty space filled nicely by washi tape (yes, this is a new addiction forming...) But I only had Christmas washi tape, and I really wanted black. My options consisted of: 

1. going to a craft store the next day to select ONE roll of washi tape, purchase it, and leave. [cons: must wait 12+ hours, and must only buy one thing at craft store]
2. order one roll of washi tape on Amazon. [cons: more expensive, longer wait, and less selection, but also zero temptation to buy more crafts]
3. use candy cane stripe washi tape from my stash. 

I think my deliberate choice is obvious. I had to double-layer the tape and you can still see some Pringles graphics through it, but I think it turned out pretty okay and also pretty free which is pretty awesome.

(my artsy attempt at a panorama photo of a cylinder)

• Dreamcatcher

Middle son has recently had a thing for tribal prints, and in my late-fall blogging absence I made a valence and a pillowcase for his room using fabrics he selected. On the same shopping trip, we bought supplies for him to make a dreamcatcher. Guess what? He didn't make it. The bag o' supplies ended up in my craft zone and I uncovered it yesterday so *I* made it!

It still needs some dangly things at the bottom, but the hard part is done. 

The life cycle of a dream

One of my only regrets thus far in my life is not going to graduate school.

When I was 23 years old, I was accepted to a full-time Masters in School Counseling program at Wake Forest University (go Deacs!) It was a two year program, and it was fully covered by scholarship.

Yes, you read that correctly.

I had a free ride for the masters program of my dreams at the school of my dreams.

And a month later, I found out I was pregnant.

It was not planned, nor was it unwelcome, but it did mean that there was no way I could be enrolled in a demanding, non-stop program.

I was blessed to receive a deferral, with admission secured for the following year's cohort. My son would be 8 months old, my husband would be working, and I would be a full-time graduate student. My mom lived nearby at the time and was even available to babysit for free. Things were looking great!

Except they weren't.

My mom was living nearby because she had left her marriage to my father. She was also undergoing treatment for breast cancer. In addition to those stressors AND graduate school, I had to suddenly wean my son to take a strong antibiotic. I didn't realize until several years later what a profound hormonal effect this had on me, but it really sent me into a tailspin. A month into my program, I started having debilitating panic attacks and suffering from major depression.

Ironically, I had to drop out of counseling school because I needed counseling, myself.

-----

Almost seventeen years later, I have never lost sight of the idea of trying to earn my graduate degree. But where, in what subject, and more importantly, why?

Periodically I will look into programs at nearby schools, or programs with significant scholarships (student loans are NOT an option for me right now), or programs that I could complete entirely online.

I have looked at counseling programs, education programs, generic fine arts programs where you don't specialize in anything in particular, adventure therapy programs, and even theater for costume construction,

But here's the thing: I don't know what I would do with a master's degree, even if I had one.

Many jobs I have wanted to apply for at Elon require a graduate degree, and that was holding me back.

I don't want a job, though. Or if I do, I don't know what it is or how to go about getting it.

I know that I don't want to be a full-time classroom teacher in a traditional public school. I can't deal with all of the administrative bureaucracy, but I love teaching. Substitute teaching has been a great fit for me in many ways, but I am not always well-utilized and it's often more babysitting than it is teaching.

I am too old to be earning my degree in college student affairs, but I absolutely love the work that is done within student life programs at universities like Elon.

I could spend two years earning that much-coveted school counseling degree, but would I want to use it? I'm not sure that I could operate much better in a guidance counselor position than I could in a classroom.

I'm 41 years old. I have 2 sons who will be heading to college within the next two years, and a third not far behind. They, along with my husband and aging dog, need me to be available for them. I am living in a state that I do not intend to stay in for a minute longer than I have to, so I don't want to commit to an on-campus program that will tie me to a specific location. I have no disposable income and will not go into debt for a degree that I cannot prove that I will use.

I'm stuck holding on to a dream, and I'm not sure if it's time to let that dream die or if I'm just in a long dormant phase. I need to not look at what my Facebook friends are doing and achieving. I need to focus on what I want and need.

I just don't know what that is.

Accidentally deliberate

I'm on Facebook way too much. In addition to keeping up with friends, I also use it to follow a few organizations, blogs, and businesses. I remember seeing something about a challenge involving giving up sugar for 21 days, and thought that it sounded like a neat idea but one that would be more complicated than I wanted to involve myself in. I must have seen a second post reminding followers that the challenge was beginning on Monday, January 9.

I don't drink much soda. I stopped putting sugar in my coffee several months ago, but have recently been treating myself to some white chocolate raspberry creamer (ohmygosh, it is SOOOOO good!) My guilty beverage of choice is "sweet" tea, but if I have the opportunity I always get it mixed half sweet, half unsweet. My real struggle is candy and baked goods. I have no qualms treating myself to a handful of peanut m&m's when I walk by an open bag. If I make a dessert and my family isn't eating it fast enough, I'll eat more than my share to make sure food isn't wasted. I'm just helpful like that. Of course, the holidays bring more candy and more baked goods, so trying to live without them for a few weeks would definitely do me good (and might even help me shed that elusive 10 pounds that accumulated since my metabolism crashed at age 35...) Still, I had no intention in taking part in the challenge.

Until I woke up on Monday morning, January 9.

I didn't have a job that day, so after taking my kids to school I decided to cook an egg for breakfast, and eat it on some toast with leftover bacon. I was so proud of myself! Yes, the bacon had a little bit of sugar in it and so did the bread, but otherwise it was a sugar-free breakfast, supplemented by coffee with half & half. As the day wore on, I continued to seek out foods without sugar from my pantry and refrigerator but found my supply very much lacking, I had no intention of doing the challenge for 21 days, but I figured I could probably hang with it for a few days so I bought some Triscuits, rice cakes, tortilla chips & salsa.

I started researching food options, searching for lists of prepared items that don't have sugar added. It was hard, but not as hard as I expected, nor as expensive. I discovered Larabars- who knew dates were magically sweet and can morph into any flavor??? I read a lot of labels. I invested in fresh fruits and vegetables. The Greek salad dressing in my fridge didn't contain sugar, and neither do flour tortillas, potato chips, or Tyson's chicken tenders. Garlic salt, instant mashed potatoes, and flavored yogurt do. And plain Greek yogurt is disgusting, even if you mix frozen berries into it.

It's actually been a very liberating experience; the ONLY thing required is giving up sugar, and you get to decide how strict you want to be about that (some people are using honey or Stevia). No exercising, no food tracking, no specialty shakes. Just avoid sugar and artificial sweeteners.

The first Friday rolled around and despite a few moments of temptation, I was going strong... when I left for a weekend of camping with my Boy Scout troop. This was my first time camping with them, and I didn't want the other leader guys to make fun of me for being on a "diet." But I did it, unobtrusively not eating any of the few things containing sugar!

A real crisis occurred this Wednesday morning when my half & half curdled in my coffee and I had to pour a new cup... and use the yummy creamer. I ate Domino's pizza, which I'm sure has some sugar in the crust and sauce. But I'm still eating a lot more fruits & vegetables and being deliberate about having them available and ready to eat. I even had a dream the other night that I drank part of a Coke, and I felt very guilty in my dream because I slipped up in my challenge!

I'm not sure if I will make it the entire 21 days; my cousin is getting married next weekend and there is going to be lots of good food. Still, I'm going to try my best. I'm not sure what will happen on day 22, if I'll allow myself some sugar or if I'll join in on the next "get healthy" challenge (I imagine there will be more). For now, I am grateful that I stumbled across this challenge, and I'm proud of myself for the discipline I've shown over the past 2 weeks.

Flicker

The flicker of a campfire, the wind in the pines 

The moon in the heavens, the stars that shine 

A place where people gather to make friends of all kinds 

A place where all our troubles are always left behind 

So give me the light of a campfire, warm and bright 

And give me some friends to sing with; I'll be here all night 

Love is for those who find it; I found mine right here 

Just you and me and the campfire and songs we love to hear

I just returned from another weekend in the woods with my Boy Scout troop. I was literally among the pines, under the stars, with friends, around the campfire. The daytime temperatures were in the low 70's and it didn't dip below the mid-50's at night. I can't imagine a more ideal way to spend a long January weekend.

This was my first "real" camping trip with the troop my boys and I joined when we moved to Louisiana, and I am so grateful for the instant camaraderie we find in Scouting. I know I will always find a group of trustworthy individuals who share my love of the outdoors and commitment to teaching young people. Scouts are my go-to people any time I have questions about anything (and I have a lot of questions about life in Louisiana; God bless my fellow leaders' patience with me!) Often our political, religious, and cultural viewpoints differ, but I have never been involved in a discussion with a fellow Scouter where tempers flared over ideology.

When I am camping, I do my best to use my phone as a camera & clock only, and stay off of social media. I returned to wi-fi in the real world this morning and was instantly bombarded with rants from Facebook friends (and truly, they are friends, just hurt & angry & divided) about whatever hit the news cycle over the weekend. We are less than 4 days from the inauguration of a very controversial, unorthodox, and divisive president. The ugliness is not going to end anytime soon.

Which brings me back to the woods: when you are camping, the real world doesn't exist. I didn't hear a single thing about anything in the real world (aside from the broadcast of an NFL post-season game for a devoted fan; it was actually a pleasant accompaniment to our dinner preparations). And it didn't matter. We were happy. We got along, We spent the entire weekend outside. We cooked all of our meals over a fire. If I felt it was refreshing and therapeutic for me, I am even happier about the effects of the weekend on the 9 young men we took with us.

This group of eleven to seventeen year-olds has 3 members who moved to the area from different states in the past 5 months. They go to 6 different schools. Some of them have medical and behavioral and familial challenges. I doubt that ANY of them would voluntarily have spent more than 15 minutes out of doors this weekend, had we not been camping. Most of them would have been glued to a screen of some sort. 

But this rag-tag group of young men had the time of their lives this weekend. A game that seemed to be a zombie mash-up of capture the flag and flashlight tag had them running around in an open field for hours in the dark. The older Scouts taught camping skills to the younger ones. They played card games and identified constellations and divided up campsite chores. They hiked to a vacant treehouse village campsite and created a war game involving pinecone grenades that kept them entertained and exercising. 

And while all of this occurred, the other leaders and I stood aside and supervised. We let boys be boys, outside, where they belong. We guided and corrected when necessary, but very little was necessary. 

This, friends. THIS should be our real world. 

Of socks and mittens

We had a cold spell in NW Louisiana last weekend- as in, the high temperature never made it above freezing for two days! And despite the fact that there was once a snowflake on my weather app, the best I got was 5 minutes of tiny flurry flakes on Friday afternoon. Meanwhile, in central NC, my friends were bombarded with the loveliest 8+" of snow the following day. I enjoyed it vicariously through their social media posts, but oh how I yearned to be there in it!

I hunkered down inside my own home, almost as if I were snowbound in NC. I cooked and crafted and even played games with my family (those of you who know how I detest games will understand that this is HUGE). I made excellent progress on my Phoenix Rising cross-stitch.

A little background on this cross stitch project: I started it, on a whim, during a summer vacation trip in 2014. I wanted to make something Elon-y and I found a lovely sampler that fit the bill. A quick re-working of the color scheme to maroon and gold had me hooked... temporarily. I know I worked on it again during a trip to the family compound in SC, but for the most part it has spent its time tucked away in my cross stitch box. Don't worry- it had plenty of company!

I cast on for a new knitting project, as well. My youngest- my baby who is almost 13, and has hands nearly the same size as mine, asked me to make him a pair of mittens. How could I refuse this precious request, especially knowing that in a year or so (if they survive being worn by a teenage boy), they will be mine? His requested colors were light blue and charcoal gray, and I knew I didn't have anything in my stash that would fit the bill. You see, I wanted to use a nice, worsted weight yarn that would knit up quickly.

As I dug through my yarns, I found a 9/10 completed sock made with a skein of fingering weight yarn given to me by someone who didn't have the patience for small, intricate knitting. It wasn't anything I would have chosen for myself, but it did have the requested shades of blue & gray. Fresh off a recent unraveling spree, I knew what the obvious choice should be, but I still dreaded undoing the many hours that went into that sock, and the the tedium of many more hours of tiny stitches.

Another so-close-to-complete sock unraveled, and a mitten begun. For a week that began with temperatures well below freezing and ended with 3 days in the mid-70's, it sometimes felt silly to be knitting mittens. Cold days will be back, all too soon, and hopefully when they arrive I will be ready to warm a small but growing pair of hands.

Use it up

My primary focus in choosing the word deliberate as my word of the year was finishing up craft projects and not buying new craft supplies without a specific purpose. I have meditated on this old proverb for several years, and want to incorporate it more into my habits (and purchases).

Actually, I am really dying to cross stitch it as some sort of sampler, but that doesn't help my myriad of unfinished projects, does it? Maybe it will be a reward for me, when I finish up all of my current works in progress.

Here are reports on my progress from three different craft fronts.

Knitting Over the holiday break, I knitted four hats! One for my son, one for my niece, and two because I had yarn without a purpose and a 14+ hour round trip to my sister-in-law's house for Christmas. I also tried to continue knitting a second sock that was about 58% done, but for the life of me I could not figure out where I left off in the instructions or how to make it the same as the first one. I unravelled it to a point where I thought I knew what was going on, knit about 2 more inches on it, and then unravelled the whole thing because I still wasn't satisfied! I thought about just starting over, but then I wasn't sure I had followed the directions exactly on the first sock, so I unravelled a perfectly completed sock! What can I say? Perfectionism and procrastination are conjoined twins in my world. So now I have two balls of yarn rolled, ready for me to learn to knit two socks at one time... eventually...

Cross Stitch I have so many projects pinned, but before starting ANY of them, I am going to finish what I have already started. (cringe) You can't unravel cross-stitch like socks with the freedom to start over, so I've got my work cut out for me. I know for a fact that I'm still holding on to a project that I started in high school, and one from when I bought my first house almost 20 years ago. Both of those projects were specific to match a room or theme that no longer exists in my life, so I may give myself the grace to part with them.

One work in progress was a sampler that I intended to incorporate into a pillow cover. I am proud to report that all the work from the second zig-zag line down has been completed in the last week! I found that I had used up the light gold thread that I was using, so I still need to go back and fill in a few spots. (purchase- one skein of embroidery floss for a specific project)

Sewing This is the worst of it, y'all. I want/need to make new covers for my living room couch pillows, and a valence for my kitchen. I don't have the right fabrics for these projects, but am allowing myself to purchase them if I find what I need at a reasonable price. The first project on my list to tackle was a requested Superman bib for my nephew's first birthday party. Being the mom of boys, I had a lot of superhero fabric in my stash, but apparently I gave it all away in my pre-moving destash of 2015. 

A craft/fabric store like JoAnn's is to me like a liquor store is to an alcoholic: a huge temptation-fest with the capactity for things to go very wrong, very quickly. But I had to buy Superman fabric for the bib, so off to the store I went. I petted lots of fabrics. I told lots of fabrics they were lovely. But in the end, I walked out with only Superman fabric (just a bit more than what I needed for the bib, but it was justified!) and a remnant fabric that will become couch pillows. Everything else for the two bibs- as well as the matching skirt I made for my niece- came from my stash. Use it up, indeed!