Unraveling This Life

When They Leave

2012-01-22T11:54:00.000-05:00

Shelby came home Thursday evening because she needed to have her wisdom teeth extracted. She and Jordan were home the week before for her consult, and they took the train home so that Jordan could begin her semester and Shelby could get some stuff settled for her semester in Germany.

So, when they leave, it is one of the worst few hours for me. Usually, I'm a bit of a bitch the hours or so before they head back to Philadelphia (still can't call that home for them) because it means that my limited time with them is at an end. It means that things are once again out of my control. They will have to be the responsible ones, and I'll be reduced to text messages, Facebook postings, and the occasional phone call. I'll trust that everything I've said has registered some place in their brains and that they will make the right choices again and again.

Truly, it means that I won't get to see them. When I talked to Erika before Shelby's surgery, I told her I was a little freaked out over the whole thing. The last time Shelby had anesthesia, she was 18 months old and having tubes put in her ears. Getting your wisdom teeth removed is pretty routine, and it scared the shit out of me. What if? Add to that Shelby leaving for Germany in about seven weeks, the Girls being separated for the first time in their lives, and Jordan talking about grad school in Los Angeles. See what I mean? What if . . . I can't even fill in the blanks.

Dave is driving Shelby to the train station as I type this. I have a crap ton of grading to get done, so I have iTunes cranked and am working my way through a pile of essays and pop quizzes. I was making good headway, but then a sappy song came on, and I lost it. Guess I should be used to it by now, but the what ifs are multiplying.

- Jill

Why I Knit

2012-01-20T09:40:00.002-05:00

Ten years ago, I didn't know how to knit. I looked at the yarn that I saw in Walmart or a craft store and didn't really give it a second thought. But a friend asked if I would take a beginning knitting class with her, so I carefully selected a skein of hideous variegated Red Heart and some shiny aluminum needles and cast on for a scarf. Eventually I made a sweater for a bear out of Sugar'n Cream cotton . . . and then I stopped.

I have no clue why I stopped. I just did. Stopped for about two years. Stopped to the point that I forgot how to purl. Stopped and didn't finish an equally hideous scarf made out of lilac wool and white fun fur. But eventually, there was a need to pick up the needles again and create something for someone special. My sister, Bridget, was pregnant with Emma, and I wanted to make her a sweater. So, with the help of Debbie Stoller's Stitch 'n Bitch, I figured out how to purl again. And I never stopped.

So, why do I knit? That answer is evolving. It gives me something to do. It's been linked to memory retention. It's portable. It makes me think. It allows me to control something. It allows me to fly without Valium or any alcohol (fine, less alcohol). It calms me down. It gives me something to do. It takes my mind off of things. It's better than crack . . . at least I'm 99% sure it's better than crack.

Last weekend, I attended Vogue Knitting Live! in New York City with a friend. I had the opportunity to take classes from people whose knitting I have admired for ages. Got to relish in a full on girl-crush (Clara Parkes, I adore you . . . seriously, let me buy you a drink!) Listened to a lecture from the person who got those needles back in my hand. Bought my own Valentine's Day presents. Suggested to Dave that he buy me a sheep. Took some advice from the aforementioned fiber pusher, Ms. Parkes, and bought a bag of Romney to test out a spindle. Heard Alice Starmore speak and was inspired to try one of her designs.

So, again, why do I knit? I just do. I don't need a damn reason.

Effortless Cardigan by Hannah Fettig
Yarn: Cascade 220 in Pacific Blue
Needles: 8 (maybe 9) . . . I can't remember
Modifications: none other than where I messed up on the sleeve decreases
Notes: I wanted a slouchy, throw it over jeans and go to the store, kind of sweater. And this is it. It's easy to wear, and this might be the warmest sweater ever. I predict that it won't make it upstairs this winter as I'll wear it as a defacto robe until mid-May. I had been knitting on this for a while since it was stockinette for ages and had allowed the cardi to languish on the needles for way too long. But having the VK Live! deadline looming forced me to finish it so that I could wear something knit at a knitting convention (shocking . . . wearing something I knit at a knitting convention). Because of the construction, it swings open, so I have a shawl pin to keep it closed. And you know what? It's damn near perfect.

xo,
Jill

Dear 21-Year-Old Self

2012-01-06T05:30:00.000-05:00

How's it going, you know, now that you've had the rug pulled out from under you? Seriously, though, were you really doing okay before that epiphany of an appointment? Shitty economy. Job prospects for your boyfriend not that hot. A kid on the way. And you still have college to finish, correct? So today was just icing on the cake because "twins" was exactly what you wanted to hear.

Guess what . . . you'll be fine. That boyfriend of yours will turn out great. And those twins? They will be the most amazing women you've ever met. Sure, you'll struggle. You'll wonder if living in your car is an option. Food stamps will look like a luxury at some point in time. And the two of you will do just about anything to make a go of it. You'll finish college - and just a semester late - but not without some sacrifice. Turns out working third shift will be the only way to avoid the cost of daycare (plus it's awesome birth control). And you'll put off work for about eight years. But being a stay-at-home-mom is something that you'll enjoy and excel at. Sure you won't be the crunchy "I'm going to make my own paint and paper and never let my kids watch t.v." SAHM, but you'll figure out a way to encourage those girls to find their own answers to just about everything.

Baby A and Baby B

So, buck up, little camper, because you're going to need it real soon. You're going to gain about 60 more pounds. You'll go into early labor in about six weeks, and you'll end up in the hospital. Your boyfriend will miss his National Teaching Exam because he won't leave your bedside. And your father? He's going to need open heart surgery, and your mom won't tell you because she's too worried about how you will react (then again, she won't tell your father that she told you . . . and hilarity ensues). After early labor, you're going to wind up on bedrest for 10 weeks . . . and owe your sisters more than you can ever repay. But eventually, on April 15, you'll start to understand what life is really all about.

And you'll never be the same,
Your 42-year-old self

PS - Last year's post here

One Little Word: 2012

2012-01-02T09:43:00.000-05:00

Last year, when I decided to try the One Little Word experiment, I settled on the word growth pretty quickly. There were a lot of things I wanted to try and see how things would progress. Projects 333 and 365 were successful (note to self: put a three on it and apparently, I'm good). Learning how to use Photoshop not so much . . . personally, I like Lightroom. The whole "Hey, let's take grad classes to learn how to develop an educational computer game because they are free" went down in a great big ball of flames basically because the "university" was sucktacular. Overall, growth was good for me.

2012's word proved to be more challenging. I mulled over word after word for what seemed like ages but probably more like two days. Wellness? Sounds too much like school. Consideration? Of what exactly. Fitness? Thank you . . . no. Domesticity? Seriously, I considered that. Eventually it came down to two words: perseverance and persistence.

perseverance - steady persistence in a course of action, a purpose, a state, etc., especially in spite of difficulties, obstacles, or discouragement.
persistence - the act of continuing steadfastly or firmly in some state, purpose, course of action, or the like, especially in spite of opposition, remonstrance

1:366 . . . back for round two

Pretty much the same word, right? Here's where the English teacher comes in. For some reason, I always think that perseverance has a negative connotation; it always seems so wishy-washy, almost as if one continues persevering even when one shouldn't. But persistence makes me think of one who pushes forward no matter what the answer. I'm probably way off base . . . but it's my word, and it's persistence. That nagging little voice in your head that says, "You know, you could walk a bit more." The urge to finish grading that bulking pile of papers you brought home for break. The need to continue a project when you just don't feel like it. Persistence. Nothing zen like balance or creativity or peace (and if those are your words, awesome . . . they are your words not mine).

There are a few things I know I need to do during 2012, and I'll need all the persistence I can muster. First, I have to learn the spelling pattern, and anyone who knows me will understand that it might take all year to get it right.

xoxo,
Jill

Wrapping Up 2011, Part 2

2011-12-31T21:21:00.002-05:00

So what did I learn from the 365 project? Let's see . . .

I like yarn . . . lots of yarn photos
Dave's hands are in many photos
I fell in love with Kellie Hatcher's Charlie preset around late September
There aren't as many photos of the Girls because they live in Philadelphia
My friends make unexpected appearances
I'm okay with black and white in my 365
I'll probably do another one

Here's the video. Nothing earth shattering. Then again, there's nothing earth shattering about me. See you in 2012!

Wrapping Up 2011

2011-12-31T09:34:00.003-05:00

Apparently the year will roll over in about 15 hours, so it's only fitting to look at what's been done and take stock of it all. It's not like anything great is supposed to happen in 2012 (cough, cough Mayan prophecy of world ending proportions), but still . . . 2011 deserves its due.

At the beginning of the year, I decided to take on all sorts of new projects and "I'm gonna" things. Some were successful, some not so much.

Project 365 - Take a photo a day. Post it. Relish in it. For the most part, I was pretty successful with this endeavor. Granted, there were days between uploads to Flickr, and occasionally, I forgot to take a photo for the day and had to rely on the iPhone. But for the most part, it was a fun project, and I'm pretty sure that I'll do it again.
Project 333 - Look at your clothes. Pare it down to 33 items for three months. Repeat every three months. Sounds daunting but it was probably the best thing I've ever done. I used the relaxed rules because it worked for me. And I didn't include jewelry in my list of 33 items or purses, not because I own so many but because of work. I don't think I'll go back to my old clothing ways since I don't use my dresser any more and have everything in a nice little closet organizer. If you're looking for a project for the new year, this is it.
Journaling - I made it to January 4 before I stopped. I've tried repeatedly to journal, and I kinda suck at it. Big time suck at it. Not sure why, but journaling isn't for me. Maybe it works for you, but for me . . . no dice.
Big Picture Classes - I signed up for three this year . . . and failed at all three. Granted, I saved all the prompts from Picture Inspiration and One Little Word (more on that one) with the hopes of catching up over the summer, but I never did thanks to the curriculum writing for our cyberschool (still a sore subject).
Cooking more - Did I really say that I would? Really? Lasted about as long as journaling . . . but I'm trying to fix that in 2012.
One Little Word - I love the concept. I love the prompts. I hate the follow through. My OLW for 2011 was "growth," and I think that I was pretty damn successful with it, even if I didn't follow any of the prompts from the class. I learned how to use my camera better - still have a long way to go - and the 333 concept was amazing. Plus, I think that my life in general was influenced by the word. I'm still mulling over the word for 2012, but I'll figure it out in the next 15 hours.

The Firsts of the Months in 2011

All in all, 2011 was a pretty damn good year. And I'm pretty sure that 2012 will be equally good . . . at least for the first 355 days. Then that whole "Holy shit, the Mayans are coming! The Mayans are coming!" crap could work its magic. But that's almost a whole year from now, right?

Happy New Year's Eve . . . be safe and find someone to smooch when that clocks ticks midnight!

- Jill

Post Christmas Blahs

2011-12-27T08:58:00.001-05:00

Even Princess Leia would be mystified

Dave chipped a molar on Christmas Eve on the super yummy - but super crisp - bacon on the annual Christmas Eve bacon brie cranberry sandwich.
My laptop started doing that whole "Hey, you don't have a camera connected so you can't video chat with you family." And I started in on the "Like hell I don't, dumb laptop, because that's what I had repaired in October." But the laptop countered with "Oh, yeah, miss smartypants. Find it if you're so smart. And while you're at it, I'm not going to recognize your external hard drive just because you're being a bit of a know-it-all bitch." And then I was like, "Fucking hell, laptop, you're not supposed to do this you piece of shit." Yup . . . I spent a few hours talking/chastising/begging my laptop to work the way it is supposed to.
Whilst trying to find an external hard drive, the Girls and I got caught up in a huge traffic jam (for our town it was huge) and had to go to three different stores to find the one that I wanted . . . and remembered why I hate Walmart (too many students, too crowded) and don't care for Best Buy (I don't have a penis therefore, no one thinks that I need help because I couldn't possibly want anything technological). Alas, Target didn't have the hard drive so I was stuck with the other two options, thank you very much.
Dave woke up this morning with the same pain in his abdomen that he has had for a few weeks now. Only this time, it woke him up. He used my phone to look up symptoms of a heart attack on WebMD because he didn't think he could walk back up the stairs if it was, in fact, a heart attack. Not to worry, he's going to the doctor today, and truly he thinks it may be a really bad bruise from a hard landing a few weeks back. I thanked him for scheduling the appointment because a) I'm not willing to give him up just yet, and b) it will be on my terms when I am.

Bright spot? We're headed to the train station to pick up Jordan's boyfriend in a few minutes, so the Girls and Shelby's boyfriend will get to hang out in town for a few days before we take them back. Dim spot? An appointment at the Apple store to fix my laptop, which is pretty much the eight circle of hell. The ninth circle? Forever 21.

How was your holiday?

xoxo,
Jill

Sleeping In On Christmas Morning

2011-12-25T09:56:00.000-05:00

Seriously, it's 9:49 AM, and the Girls are still in bed. I have a cup of coffee in hand, the ice cream is churning for dessert, the pets are getting restless, and they are still asleep. There are days that I really yearn for the pre-teen years.

Don't get me wrong . . . I don't mind the whole "what the hell do they want for Christmas and how am I going to wrap this when they are asleep and get it under the tree" facade of years past. I do kinda miss Santa (and if you are one of those, "Santa is a lie, and we're not going to raise our children lying to them," folks . . . more power to you, but I don't get that) and all the trappings that go with it.

The presents were stacked on the chair with care . . . is that how it goes?

But I'm not sure I was aware that once you get to be a certain age, the presents that were once carefully arranged under the tree get stacked by two unknown individuals who are still asleep and are getting bras and jeans this Christmas on their father's chair. Must have missed that tradition . . . but I'm pretty sure that it will make a reappearance next year.

Merry Christmas . . . enjoy the moments!

-J

Music To My Ears

2011-12-08T19:01:00.001-05:00

Looking for Christmas tunes? I don't have an effing tree up in my living room yet, so go carol yourself some where else. Because while I love Bing Crosby's "Mele Kalikimaka" as much as the next person, I'm having a hard time getting "into" the Christmas/holiday spirit this year. Perhaps it's the weather (pretty balmy until yesterday). Maybe it's the fact that I'm shopping for jeans and boots and bras and a goddamn Crockpot for my kids this year (seriously . . . Jordan wants a Crockpot). Or it just could be that there's a bajillion and one things to get done before saying, "Ho, ho, ho," doesn't send me into a fit of prostitute joke giggles.

A little bit every day . . . helps keep me sane

So what's a girl to do? If you're me, you listen to music and knit and read. Sometimes all three at the same time, but more likely just two of them. Trust me, it's probably not the two you might be thinking of. Last year, my friend Tricia created a sublime Advent scarf pattern, which consisted of a nice lace pattern every day (about twenty rows). By the time Christmas rolled around, I had a lovely scarf that was about 60 - 70 inches long. This year, she decided to do the same thing. Today is day eight, but I'm on day five . . . which is fine, but I'll have to catch up over the weekend.

I'm using the Cascade Heritage Silk sock yarn in a really beautiful raspberry color. It wasn't the yarn that did it for me (rarely is) but the color. Perfect color for a dull winter day. So, I've been knitting a scarf with texture on a size 3 needle. Nothing like adding to the holiday stress level. But overall, I'm really chuffed with the choice that I made. It's a lovely color; it's knitting up like a breeze; it's relatively easy to follow. Holidays be damned . . . this will keep me sane.

With the holidays in mind, I will leave you with a video. Thankfully, a friend posted it on Facebook last night, and I've listened to it about five times since.

Cheers,
Jill

It's Not That I'm Not Grateful . . .

2011-12-04T11:28:00.001-05:00

it's just damn hard to express it. Sometimes when I read other people's posts during November, my first thought was, "Why can't I sound that sincere? Surely there must be something wrong with me." Seriously, I have tons to be grateful about: happy marriage, successful kids, health, a job I love . . . so why the hell can't I put that into words? Truth is, I have no f-ing idea.

So let's see if I can articulate it four days after the "official" month of gratitude has past. There are things that bring me joy on a daily basis. The blossoming cherry tree that I pass ever morning and evening on my way to a job that I love (teaching truly is the best gig in the world, people. Even with the media screaming about how teachers are basically money grubbing whores in search of a summer vacation, I wouldn't give it up for anything) brightens my day. My Tuesday Knit Nights provide at least two hours worth of recharging every week . . . much laughter, good times with friends, the occasional snack or two, plus all the yarn a girl can handle. Music. Routines. Me. Co-workers. Family. Voting. Technology. A clean fucking counter. Wine. Quiet moments. But mostly, my husband and kids.

Dave and the Girls are pretty much the reason for everything. They require little, if any, explanation for my gratitude. I'm just a better person for them being in my life. The Girls. When you have babies and kids in school, most of your identity whether you want to admit it or not, is wrapped up in being their mom. If you think I'm lying, go look at your photos or chart what you do on a daily basis. It's all about your kids. But when they leave for school, you don't quite have that "luxury" any more. Then things start to shift, and you figure out how to be a different mom. On more than one occasion, I'll read someone's blog and think, "Just wait . . . you're in for a life changing experience in ten years when your kids leave." And my Dave? He's my brand of snarky; he keeps me in check; he laughs at my jokes; he listens to my rants (although I suspect he plays Angry Birds during the rants), and he lets me cry when I need to.

I think I spent most of November in need of a good cry, but it never really came. So that need has been bubbling around for a while now. I'm hoping that it comes out before Christmas . . . otherwise, I'll put on a sappy movie or read the last chapter of The Westing Game or listen to "This Woman's Work" and get it over with. That crying jag that I know I'm headed for will have to wait a few more days . . . there are essays to grade and an Advent scarf to knit after all.

True Confessions of a Welfare Queen

2011-11-03T22:08:00.001-04:00

I don't know how the conversation even started, but it ended with me deciding that it was time to come clean. There was a period of time, when the Girls were very little, our family needed help with the basics. Anyone pulling in less than $900 a month with four people in the house would need it. So Dave and I sought help from the government and applied for federal assistance. I've mentioned it in passing my students a few different times, and they usually approach it with skepticism. Their basic sentiment: Why would you need welfare?

Before the Girls were born, we received W.I.C., which is an awesome and probably underappreciated program. The women who ran our local program were generous and took the time to get to know us. They never failed to check in to see how things were going and made suggestions that worked with the program. After the Girls were born, Dave worked full-time at a hotel overnight balancing the accounts so that we wouldn't need to pay for day care. Even with that, it still wasn't enough. I don't which one of our parents suggested welfare, but we talked it over and decided that we didn't have many other options.

There was an interview process involved; we thought we needed to take the Girls, which was a mistake. They went with us once (hell, I only went once to tell you the truth . . . Dave graciously went every time it needed to be done) and once was enough. Even that first interview was brief: here's your paperwork, fill it out, bring it back, we'll see if you qualify. So we did . . . and we did. In 1991, we qualified for $239 a month in food stamps and free medical care for the Girls. To us, $239 was like hitting the lottery. I budgeted for our first shopping trip with the stamps, had a list of healthy dinner items, and even splurged for jarred plums for the Girls since pre-made baby food was a luxury for us. We started checking out, and the cashier was making conversation with us and oohing and ahhing over the Girls. Until I pulled out the food stamps to pay for our groceries. The cashier turned icy, rude almost. I hadn't changed . . . but her perception of me had. No longer was I a mom chatting about the goofy things her kids were doing. Now I was some free-loader taking advantage of the system. A welfare queen.

It didn't get any easier as the time went on. We never went shopping in our town if we could avoid it. God forbid that people knew we were on public assistance. Going to the doctor wasn't much easier. Of the three pediatricians in the practice, one was blessing but the other two basically saw us for the medicaid card that paid for their services. Luckily, the Girls rarely had to see the other two. After they repeatedly came down with ear infections, their pediatrician suggested tubes in their ears. "You could go to Cincinnati and get them allergy tested first, but as soon as they see you're on public assistance, you'll be stuck in paperwork hell." We took her advice and avoided the Queen City and stuck close to home.

Every once and a while, after Dave's quarterly meeting with our social worker, Vikki, it would be determined that we either made too much money and the food stamps would take a three-month "vacation." Because of my careful budgeting, I had enough food stamps to get us through most of those months (minus the splurge for baby food). When it became clear that we had officially reached the threshold for food stamps, I decided to save the final one. There wasn't a real reason why I saved it, but I wanted to be reminded that while I was and still am extremely grateful for the safety net of public assistance, I never, ever wanted to go back to that. I remember what it is like to sell your CD's to pay for your electric bill. The terror goes through your body when you think you might have to live in your car. How you're positive that everyone around you knows you need help.

The real reason I kept it? So that I could always say I remember what it felt like . . . that disdain from the cashier or the tolerance from the pediatrician.

- Jill

Hiding Matches

2011-10-17T19:12:00.001-04:00

Fire . . . it's that element that I don't get. It's heat. It's dangerous. It's changeable. It's beautiful in a sorid way. My brother, when he was younger, had this obsession with fire. He would light matches and watch the flame dance on the tip of the match only to blow it out or drop it when it neared his fingers. Mom hid matchbooks for ages, and you could never find one when you need to light a candle. Birthdays? Most of the time was spent looking for anything to set the candles aflame.

For a while, Dave would purchase the instant fire logs for our old house because it burned in color. I'd wake up with a sore throat that would go on for days, and Dave's response would be, "But it burns in colors . . . it's blue!" Watch any person who's semi-drunk at a bonfire, and they are mesmerized for hours. It's like the most alluring babysitter ever. Watch the pretty flame. It changes shape. Color. Size.

Beyond the dangerous beauty is the real reason to fear fire. It destroys indiscriminnently. You always hear about the large brush fires in California and the people who stay to protect their homes when any rational person would get the hell out because they know that fire truly doesn't give a shit. It's the honey badger of the element world.

It brought a tear to my eye on Sunday

Fire destroyed a friend's livelihood this weekend. The family tavern caught fire when the cook came in to start the fryer. They lost the business and most of the apartments (two were spared). I got her text on Saturday morning, the one were she said she would rather deal with her dying father than the notice she got about the fire. By the time the fire departments got there, nothing could be saved. So now what?

I have a drink chip from the tavern, and I'm not giving it up. I refuse to give up the dream that eventually, I'll be able order a cheeseburger with grilled onions and sauteed mushrooms completed with an order Kelly fries and a few Yuenglings. I'll wait until I can choose the tunes on the digital jukebox. When I can chat with my friend and figure out what the skinny is about the people in tavern. When we can discuss what's going on in our families in details. When we can laugh our asses off at the next person to walk through the doors.

I'm counting on you to get the tavern up and running . . . I've got a drink chip after all.

Cheers,
Jill

Crap I Did Today

2011-10-11T22:52:00.000-04:00

Sorry for the absence . . . tis grading season so that means my ass has been one with the couch as of late. But this past weekend, there was nothing to grade (mark it on your calendars), so I did what I like best: knitting, reading, knitting and reading, watching movies, watching football, and going to Spice India with my husband. I can't really cook Indian food that well - despite repeated attempts - and quite frankly, when you have really good Indian food about 25 minutes away, why the hell would you?

So, today . . . well, here's what I did:

kvetched with some co-workers over the professor of our grad class getting fired
previewed the on-line taping of the class that we are being merged with and panicking
created a game design document for Knitting Ninja (yup . . . I'm designing a game based on knitting; you'll wish you thought of it first - or that I didn't have my head examined when multiple people suggested it)
called a bajillion and one parents about failing grades; fine . . . I called ten parents
laughed at my mother and my sister in our repeated attempts to get a video chat going. Note to self: it's your new laptop, idiot
scheduled a Genius appointment at the Apple store to correct the whole video chat issues because it really is the new laptop
made a hot cocoa and added a generous "Dave is traveling again" amount of Bailey's
added songs to my unofficial funeral playlist on Spotify. Not that I'm planning on kicking it any time soon, but truly I have no desire to have "Amazing Grace" or some other shitty song played. Instead, you'll be treated to "Tobacco Road" by Lou Rawls or "Zombie" by The Cranberries. Note the irony in that last one
argued with the cat for space on the rather large couch. She wants my spot, and right now, I'm kind of afraid that she might eat me if I don't move
talked to my sister about her son's homework, which apparently is pretty challenging for her. I'm going to give her the benefit of the doubt because it does sound kind of hard . . . which would be fine if he weren't in first grade

I think that's it . . . wait. I taught 110 kids today and modeled how to create their book report. I explained the plot to To Kill a Mockingbird because one of my kids thought it didn't have a plot. I helped a kid find a book that he could read because he lost his over a month ago and never thought to tell either me or my reading partner. I laughed at some of their responses. I nearly cried at some of the other ones. I often forget about work . . . because it doesn't really seem like work. It's just something I enjoy doing.

Wish me luck with tomorrow . . . I'm Skyping with my parents in class five times so that my kids can see an interview being conducted. It's either going to be the best idea I ever had or the worst . . . jury's still out on that.

Cheers,
Jill

PS - I'm pretty sure that you could strip to "Tobacco Road," too. Might have to start another Spotify playlist . . . "Music to Shake Your Moneymaker By" . . . suggestions?

Words To Live By

2011-09-29T21:21:00.002-04:00

For the past few days, we've been working on storyboards at school, making sure that the kiddos have something to work with before we begin a large project involving photos and diagrams and narration and movies. I'm trying to model the process by demonstrating how to fill out a storyboard and coming clean about my strengths and weaknesses. Strengths: organization, multitasking, words. Weaknesses: procrastination, too many things at once, words.

So tonight, while I should have been grading warm-ups, I was putting together a photo book because the Living Social deal that I bought was going to expire tonight. Initially, I thought I would do a book all about the Girls, but that would require thought and time and care and love. Instead, I figured I would make something that I could use in school . . . a book of my favorite quotes accompanied by my favorite photographs. Here are a few that I particularly liked with the photos that I used:

Be a first rate version of yourself, not a second rate version of someone else. Judy Garland

Never ruin an apology with an excuse. Benjamin Franklin

I have measured out my life in coffee spoons. T. S. Eliot

You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. A. A. Milne

Nature gave you the face you have at 20, but it is up to you to merit the face you have at 50. Coco Chanel

Do or do not. There is no try. Yoda

Tonight I should have graded some warm-ups. Instead, I made a book. I answered a dozen or so emails from students who are slightly panicked about their storyboards. I had dinner with my husband. I realized that maybe Buckaroo Banzai had it right after all when he said, "No matter where you go, there you are."

It's almost Friday . . . thankfully,

Jill

*Blerg . . . I couldn't find the photo for the Yoda quote on Flickr. But I love it based on how passionately one of my students lobbied for its inclusion in our class quotationary.

'Tis His Birthday Tomorrow

2011-09-25T16:26:00.002-04:00

And I have no clue what to buy him. Seriously, I don't know what to buy my husband for his 42nd birthday. Thought about buying him the latest Pearl Jam album, but he bought it on the road. I could pick up the latest action figure he's looking for, but it's hit or miss so that could be either tomorrow or next week or next year. Then again, I could buy him a book or a DVD, but he pretty much does that himself. So I have no clue.

Instead, I thought I would tell some secrets about him:

Every time there's a Prince song on, he does this little dance that makes me grin from ear to ear. He likes Prince more than any white man with no rhythm should.
He graciously spells words for me because he knows I am a poor speller. In fact, he just spelled "rhythm" for me.
For our first married birthday together, he bravely ate the grapefruit meringue pie I made even though I used whole wheat flour, and it looked like it had bugs in it.
He doesn't really say too much if I spend a day (or two) on the weekend in my pj's grading papers. If we do choose to go someplace, it's with an understanding that I will brush my teeth and hair, but there will be no makeup.
If I need to, he lets me cry on his shoulder and doesn't say anything. It's kind of nice because people really shouldn't say anything when you are crying on their shoulder.
He'll check on the dog just to make sure she's still breathing.
When I get overly invested in a football game, he doesn't shush me or tell me to stop like some people I know (hint: our daughters).
If we are on a trip to Philly or New York City and we're walking, he walks with me no matter how far we choose to hoof. I just have to remember to get us to a food cart earlier.
He doesn't tease me about my grey hair and tells me that he likes it.
He's one of the most compassionate people that I know. And he's never forgotten where he comes from or how far we've come.
After 21 years, he still makes me laugh on a daily basis. Sometimes over something that he does like the whole "Cat in a box" idea. Sometimes over nothing at all.
On weekend mornings, he lets me put my head on his shoulder and fall asleep there even though he knows I'll leave an ear print or press down on his chest.
He owns everything that Pearl Jam and the Wu Tang Clan have ever released. I'd be hard pressed to tell you what they sing . . . fine, I could tell you some Pearl Jam songs, but the Wu Tang Clan is a mystery.
He's cleaned the bathroom more than I ever have in my entire life. Add to that the laundry.
He reads voraciously and shares what he reads with me. It doesn't matter what he's reading; it all gets shared.
When we are together, he holds my hand in public.
He still calls me "Sweetie" when he leaves me voicemail messages . . . and I save at least one of them when he's on the road in case I don't hear his voice again.
He's provided an excellent example for our Girls for what a husband and a father should be like.
He never ends a phone call without saying "I love you" . . . unless there are people in his office, but then he calls right back to tell me when they are gone.

Dave . . . almost at 42

As of tomorrow, he will have celebrated at least one half of all his birthdays with me. I still don't have a clue what to buy (other than the one small thing I have) for his birthday. In the past, I've given him silly toys or a tickets to a Steelers' game or DVDs or god knows what else. I guess I have 24 hours (ish) to figure it out for this year.

Cheers . . . and I love you, Dave
Jill

*Edited: Went with a Steelers sweatshirt that he said he liked a few weeks ago . . . but I cleared it with him first.

"Would You Like Fries With That?" - Harder Than You Think

2011-09-23T20:54:00.000-04:00

Conversation today at the end of 7th period:
RG: So, ummm, Mrs. G . . . do you work at Wendy's, too?
Me: (completely serious) Yes . . . it's my second job.
RG: Oh. I wasn't sure when I saw you there.
Me: No, sweetie. I was helping out a friend who had a fundraiser. I was kind of surprised to see you there, too.

On Wednesday night, the last thing I wanted to do was be in Wendy's for two hours, asking people what they wanted to drink with their value meals. My fall allergies were hitting with the force of a Mack truck. My feet hurt from Zumba. I was dead tired from crap sleep for the past three days. But I promised my friend, Jen, that I would help her during a fundraiser she's holding for her annual multiple sclerosis walk . She's been participating in Walk MS for years now and raises the $2,000 over several fundraisers. In the past it's been easier for her to do, but since the economy has taken a nose-dive, charities have been hard hit.

The Wendy's fundraiser meant that a lot of teachers in our district (all of them from one of our high schools) come to Wendy's, put on an apron and name tag, and shadow someone who is working. I figured I would get to see some former students, help out a friend, and have a good time. Seriously, how hard could it be.

They're chili isn't as good as mine . . . but it's pretty darn good

Famous last words. I shadowed Nikki, a woman a year younger that the Girls, for the evening. She was gracious, kind, and patient with me. She didn't get upset when I repeatedly had to ask which was the medium cup and which was the value cup or where the lids for the chili was located. She laughed when I was flustered. She answered all my questions. She was patient with customers who couldn't make up their minds. She was kind when customers weren't. She smiled nonstop. She worked nonstop. She was awesome.

At the end of my two-hour shift, my feet were killing me. There was a Frosty with my name on it, and I was ready to head out. But Nikki still had another five hours to go for her shift. During one of our conversations, she said she thought about being a teacher, but she's pretty sure that she doesn't have the patience for it. So she was thinking that nursing might be for her . . . but most of her friends were doing that, and most people might be expecting her to as well. For now, Nikki is saving money to buy a car because it's a 25 minute walk for her to get to work. College will come after she has the car, and by then she thinks she'll know what she wants to study. Considering I didn't know what I wanted to be when I grew up until I was 30, I am pretty sure that Nikki will be fine.

Besides, if she can handle the rush at Wendy's with a smile on her face the way she did on Wednesday evening, college will not be a problem for her.

Enjoy the weekend,
Jill

PS - I'm loving Kellie Hatcher's color presets . . . check 'em out!

Note To Self . . .

2011-09-19T16:27:00.001-04:00

you're not 21 any more
you never were that coordinated
the term "step-ball-chain" still doesn't make sense
Shakira has hips that don't lie . . . yours probably do
but you can still shake it

First Zumba class after work this afternoon. If you want to see some fun, try Zumbaing with people you work with . . . I'll be sore tomorrow.

A little breathless,
Jill

I'll Buy More Spoons

2011-09-17T10:43:00.000-04:00

Dave has been traveling a lot since shortly after we got back from the Bahamas. The trips usually start on a Monday and end Wednesday or Thursday. Couple that with the beginning of the school year, and the first thing that suffers (besides sleep) is the dishes. I simply don't cook when he isn't here, or if I do, they involve the microwave and something from the frozen food aisle. Seriously . . . why cook for one person when there are so many other alternatives? Don't preach to me about the preservatives or the ingredients or the cost. It doesn't really bother me.

But not having enough silverware does kind of get to me. I might wash the same spoon over and over again when truly it would take about four minutes longer to wash all of them. And yet I persist in my rewashing of the same spoon.

This morning it bit me in the ass. Dave went to pour himself a bowl of cereal. "Is there any milk in either of these two jugs?" he asks. Shit . . . left the empty jugs in the frig again. "Umm. Maybe? Sorry about that." Then a clatter of silverware hitting the sink. "I guess I should have bought milk yesterday," I say to Dave as he sits down. "It's okay. There weren't any clean spoons," he says.

"Lucky I took a photo of that three days ago," was the best I could muster as a response. Guess I need to fix that.

Enjoy the weekend,
Jill

Sea Change

2011-09-16T22:02:00.002-04:00

One of my favorite Beck album's is the under appreciated Sea Change. It's different than his other works with a moody, more introspective sound than his previous endeavors. There's a lack of sampling that you might have come to expect from Odelay or Mellow Gold; even the lyrics are different. I guess I took to this album because when it was released in 2002, I was going through a sea change myself: transitioning from a learner to a teacher*.

If you've noticed that the blog header is different, then I would say that your eye sight is fairly good. Erika has been blogging fairly regularly on her site, so I think it's safe to say that this is a one woman gig over here. That being said, I decided that something new was in order. I toyed with a new blog. Or a Tumblr site. Or just giving it up altogether. But I just decided that a name change was all it would take.

It was supposed to be a hat . . . now it's waiting to figure out its true destiny

So, this is Unraveling This Life . . . a little knitting, a little life, a little photography. Basically anything that strikes my damn fancy. So if you get a whole post that extols the virtues of spending a whole week having only to wash forks and coffee cups, it's pretty much because I wanted to.

Cheers,
Jill

* It probably helped that I first heard its amazing single, "Lost Cause," sitting in the student center at ESU studying for my first final in about 11 years.

The Family Ink

2011-09-05T15:16:00.000-04:00

When I was a kid, the only person I knew who had tattoos was my uncle and godfather. He had the kind that were typical of the mid-60s, the ones that looked like they were done during his stint in the Army or ones that had to do with riding motorcycles. I'm still not sure what most of them were, but you could only see them during the summer when short sleeves were common. Nobody ever really talked about Uncle Gene having tattoos, but you knew that they were there just under the shirt sleeves.

The occasional person had them in college. Usually the story would go something like this. So-and-so was at a party/spring break/visiting a friend at Ohio University. So-and-so had too much to drink, and they got a tattoo of Taz/the Nike symbol/barbed wire. So-and-so claimed to love it, but you never saw the tattoo unless so-and-so had too much to drink and then you had to listen to all the stories about this one time when they were at a party/spring break/visiting a friend at Ohio University they got a tattoo.

But about ten years ago, men started sporting tribal bands on their arms, and women began to flaunt the ubiquitous "tramp stamp" everywhere from New York City to Springfield. During my first year working as an instructional aide, a student teacher had one. She didn't think anyone could see it, but trust me, everyone did. Occasionally, you would see a male teacher with a tattoo on his calf or a female teacher with a heart on her shoulder blade. Most people got them for very personal reasons. "I was turning 40, so I got a tattoo," was one reason. Another, "Divorce kind of sucked."

They are kind of in order

Getting a tattoo took some amount of deliberation. Personally, I've always liked tattoos. I like the way that the artists can blend the colors on a very unforgiving canvas. They truly are artists, using a tool that is operating up to 190 hits per second and one that doesn't have an eraser. So what prompted me to get that first tattoo? I was irritated that my brother chose a wedding date the summer after he got engaged and not the next summer . . . so I got a tattoo. And I didn't tell my mom. And I did it when she was out of the country. In China. The rest have pretty much just flowed from there.

The Girls' birth flower (sweet peas) when they left for college. I changed my opinion on having a visible tattoo as a teacher because I wanted the Girls close to me even if other people could see it.
The Frost quote that I've loved since college. I call it my "cheat sheet" . . . as in, "Hey, shitty day, I learned something about life: it goes on."
The C in the crook of my arm. My brother died when I was three and he was nine-months old. I despise the day in January. But I got this tattoo to remind me of him, and it's connected to the Girls through the quote. It has made January 28s bearable to say the least.
The joke on my upper arm. My friend Mary and I went to a Kings of Leon concert and got really, really drunk. I sent a few drunk texts to the Girls that involved the words "getting a tattoo," "the Greatest," and "what are you? my mother." Needless to say, I didn't get the tattoo (I was beyond wasted), but I did get it last October in Columbus during a Flickr meet up.
The ball of yarn. Because I could . . . and because the artist I go to in Stroudsburg does amazing detail work . . . and because he could.
The lyrics. Every night, we had the same routine. Read a book in the rocking chair. Sing "You Are My Sunshine." Kiss goodnight. Go to bed. We had this routine for years. And then they started to get too big for the routine. But they make me happy when skies are grey.

I don't really know why the Girls have the tattoos that they do. All I know is they were at least 18 years of age when they got their tattoos. After their nose piercings, I refused to sign any more body modification forms for them. I didn't want them sitting around with their friends at school, talking about the time that they were bored/tired/depressed, and their mom signed a form for a tattoo. Those stories needed to be all their own.

I Think This Qualifies As a Rainbow, Right?

2011-08-29T14:41:00.000-04:00

So, summer is in session one more day. I decided to be extremely proactive and: do two loads of laundry, vacuum the stairs and hallway, organize my closet, melt my crayon canvas, finish my lesson plans, and create a "Getting To Know You" bingo game for my students. In and amongst all that, I swept the floors and part of the basement and cleaned up in the way, way back of the basement as the people who maintain our heating system called to say they could make it over to complete the autumn cleaning. Oh, and I'm waiting on the insurance company to call about the windshields.

Because of this whirlwind of activity, I'm able to sit down and enjoy the very lovely, albeit silly, Lost In Austen while I tidy up some lessons for the first three weeks of school. If you haven't seen the miniseries and you enjoy all things Austen, I encourage you to check it out. Jemima Rooper, Hugh Bonneville, and Alex Kingston make it a pleasure to watch this mish-mash of Austen's Pride and Prejudice and a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure book.

Having this day off at the beginning of the school gave me an opportunity to get my Project 333, Phase 4 clothing in order. I never really published a Phase 3 list because I didn't put one together. When school let out, I took out some of the more "professional" clothes and substituted more casual fare. The only items I didn't include were clothes I took on vacation. After all, I couldn't see keeping two bathing suits for just a three-day trip; besides, would I count them as one item even though there were two parts?

It's not as pretty as I would like . . . but I like it nonetheless

Here's my list for the last, full phase of Project 333:

white L. L. Bean 3/4 sleeve shirt
black L. L. Bean 3/4 sleeve shirt
green L. L. Bean 3/4 sleeve shirt
light blue L. L. Bean 3/4 sleeve shirt
teal Apt. 9 short sleeve shirt
apple green Apt. 9 short sleeve shirt
teal Old Navy scoop neck short sleeve shirt*
two white Lane Bryant camis
blue Old Navy tank
green Old Navy tank
pink Old Navy tank
teal Old Navy short sleeve sweater
purple Old Navy long sleeve tissue sweater
cream Old Navy long sleeve tissue sweater
green Lane Bryant short sleeve cardigan
black Torrid 3/4 sleeve cropped cardigan
black Old Navy asymmetrical long sleeve cardigan
black Macy's swing cardigan
teal Old Navy faux-wrap long sleeve sweater
three pair black capris
khaki capris
Lane Bryant jean skirt
teal dotted Mossimo skirt
black Old Navy skirt
Mossimo jeans
Apt. 9 capris
Apt. 9 boyfriend jeans
two pair black sandals (dressy thongs and the Clarks wedges)
black Clarks pumps

I've decided that I will keep three items to mix and out as needed: a teal short sleeve shirt from Macy's, a black scoop neck Old Navy short sleeve shirt, and something else (I have laundry in the dryer after all . . . and I can't remember what it is right now). I'm continuing the self-imposed rule that all hand-knit items are fair game to be worn without counting toward the 33 items. Also, I'm not counting any jewelry in the list. I usually only wear a wedding ring and perhaps a bracelet. Purses or handbags aren't counting for me, either. I use only one or two purses, a knitting bag, and a laptop bag (I downsized from the massive Vera Bradley bags last year . . . but I still need to sell them on eBay). Once the weather gets truly cold, and it will around October, I plan on changing out the capris for dress slacks and a few of the short sleeve or tissue sweaters for something more appropriate. I'll also put the sandals away and bring the red pumps out . . . because I miss those shiny, patent leather lookers.

Hopefully we have the first day of school tomorrow . . . otherwise, I'll be forced to clean the attic or the basement. And that would truly be a horror.

I'm Pretty Sure It's a Bad Omen

2011-08-28T19:26:00.001-04:00

When you start the school year with a cancellation, I'm fairly certain it can't be a good thing. After hearing about Hurricane Irene and the impending "the world is ending . . . buy more white bread" mentality, I was pretty certain it would lead to an interesting school year. Hurricane Irene arrived in our neck of the woods as a tropical storm, but she left her mark with flooding and massive power outages. So, we're starting off the 2011-2012 school year in the hole. Hopefully, our district will apply for forgiveness; if not, I'm pretty sure I'll forget about it come June anyway.

My artsy beginning of the school year

So, the school year is now 36 hours away. What am I looking forward to? A schedule - I do shitty without one. New students - I can't wait to meet my new kiddos. New challenges - but not the kind that make me want to tear my hair out . . . the kind that expand my teaching. Trying something new for organization - working with 7th graders is like herding cats some days, so I'm hoping that a new organizational model will help.

It has a certain elegance . . . but it's a bitch to dry with

But for tomorrow, I'll sleep late one last time. Drink two cups of coffee instead of one. Perhaps knit a little more on a scarf. Read a few more pages in my book. Plan further for my first two weeks of school*. Call the insurance company about the two cracked windshields. And get ready to welcome some new kiddos to English class because school will come eventually.

Hope you all stayed safe and dry this weekend! The Girls officially survived a Category One hurricane without a parent . . . not that we would have been any help, but they did it in style - with Uno and Doctor Who at the ready.

- Jill

* I was supposed to have a student teacher starting with me on Tuesday, but he will be two weeks late. Seems he's a little preoccupied being a volunteer for the Red Cross and was shipped to North Carolina as of Friday. Seems promising already . . . here's hoping I don't eat those words.

When All Else Fails, Make a Playlist

2011-08-23T11:48:00.000-04:00

Seriously, when I feel like procrastinating or putting off stress or decompressing in anticipation of the coming weeks, I make a playlist. I've always done that. During my certification classes, I had the best iPod going . . . it was chock full of the latest songs, deep tracks from the "chill" genre, classical music so obscure that it couldn't really be defined. You name it, it was on there - with the possible exception of country music save for Willie, Johnny, and some Dwight.

So, this playlist started off the same way that others have: from a commercial. Usually, I'll hear a song on a commercial and think, "Hmmm . . . I love that song! Who sings it?" and I traipse off to AdTunes to locate the artist. That little side venture brings on more songs that I didn't know I liked, and by the time I'm done, I have a brand new set of music to listen to. Plus I can't put off what I was putting off any longer.

This time around, I'm putting off the coming school year. I can't really put it off, but I can try and banish the thought from my brain for a while longer. I look forward to the beginning of the school year (always have, always will), but it's always with a certain amount of dread. This year is no exception. Will the lessons that worked last year work this year? Will the kids "get it" when we are writing? Will they know how to write a paragraph? Will I worry about them when the day is over? And the list goes on. We have a new group of kids with us this year, the gifted and talented crew, so that's a whole new list of "Will theys" to add to the rotation. And it doesn't help that this summer was spent translating what I do in a classroom to what can be done with just a computer.

So, what's a girl to do? Create a playlist . . . School's Back. Feel free to listen/watch as much as you want or make your own.

1. "Pumped Up Kicks" by Foster the People ( in Fright Night and at Subway yesterday with Lisa)
2. "One Week of Danger" by The Virgins (in a Honda commercial)
3. "I Follow Rivers" by Lykke Li (in the latest trailer for Columbiana)
4. "Introducing" by Snake & Jet's Amazing Bullit Band (in a Honda commercial)
5. "We Turn It Up" by Oh Land (in a Honda commercial)
6. "Rescue Song" by Mr. Little Jeans (in a Honda commercial . . . so I like Honda's commercials)
7. "Our World" by My Morning Jacket (from the Muppets soundtrack . . . moved me to tears)
8. "Moves Like Jagger" by Maroon 5 (heard it on the radio . . . yes, the radio)
9. "You Make Me Feel" by Cobra Starship featuring Sabi (heard it on MTV in one of the brief moments they were playing videos)
10. "Every Teardrop Is a Waterfall" by Coldplay (heard it on Pandora)
11. "Walk" by Foo Fighters (just bought it because I like them)
12. "Double Trouble" by Jack and White (free on iTunes . . . kind of fun)
13 "I Follow Rivers" by the Glee cast (if there is a Glee cover, I usually buy it . . . can't explain why, I just do)

Off for more work related stuff . . . but at least I have my tunes to make it fun.

- Jill

Another Good Book

2011-08-17T20:45:00.001-04:00

Since the last post, I finished three more books: Hush, Hush and Crescendo by Becca Fitzpatrick and 13 Reasons Why by Jay Asher. The first two were pretty quick forbidden romance novels aimed at my core group of middle school students. The student who read The Mortal Instruments series recommended this book series to me, and I couldn't return to school without having read it. For some reason, if a kid is kind enough to recommend a book to me, I'll take a swing at it. After all, I give them suggestions all the time, and I hope that they listen every now and then.

But then there was 13 Reasons Why. I bought it before we took our anniversary trip, but I didn't read it then. I have read six books since I bought it, all of which were purchased after I bought this rather slim novel. What was holding me back? It's about a girl who commits suicide and 13 reasons why she chose to do it. I'm not giving away any secrets here. If you read the back of the cover, it clearly states that she kills herself. But it's the reasons why - her encounters with those around her - that prevented me from cracking it open. I was afraid that it would be sad (it was). I was afraid that it would be maudlin (it wasn't). I was afraid that the author wouldn't have an authentic voice for a girl (he did). Turns out I should have read it a lot sooner than I did . . . but definitely not on vacation.

The story is told by two different people: Hannah, the girl who decides to commit suicide, and Clay, one of 13 people to receive a box of audio tapes from Hannah. On the tapes she narrates the different reasons that brought her to her ultimate decision, not indicting the people to whom she devotes one side of a tape to, but clearly making the case that their actions or lack thereof caused her pain. While the final act is an extremely drastic measure, the acts from all the characters leading up to it are all too common.

It's a young adult book, but it's a quick read . . . go ahead and crack it open

I teach in a middle school. Hardly a day goes by when you don't see a student who is upset with someone else. It ranges from pencil tapping that drives a person to the point of madness to insensitive comments about looks, clothing, body odor . . . anything. Bullying is a constant topic in society partially because it's everywhere. And you know what? It should be discussed. Parents need to talk to their kids about it and get them to understand that it's perfectly fine to tell someone when they think they are being bullied. And keep telling them that. If you think your child is being bullied and they tell you they've talked to a teacher or a guidance counselor about it, take that extra step and call the teacher. Trust me on this one . . . kids often don't tell us a thing. They might say that they had a bad day, and we ask what happened. "Oh, I forgot my lunch, and I had to call my mom to bring it to school, but she left for work already, so now I'll have to charge it at lunch." This, to a teacher, translates to: not much. But what the student really meant to say was, "I was so worried about riding to school on the bus with students X, Y, and Z, and I forgot my lunch, and now I'll have to charge at lunch, which means getting up in front of students X, Y, and Z at lunch, and they'll whisper behind their hands at me." See? Same stories . . . clearly. When in doubt, call you child's teacher and ask. We'd rather know so that we can look out for it.

A huge source of bullying comes online. Teachers can't control that. But you can. Your child has a Facebook? Fine. But they need to understand that you as the parent have the right to review every single thing on that. Who they have as friends. What they like. Who they are chatting with. What the comments are. What the pictures look like. Investigate. You would be shocked at what is posted on there. One of my former students, who was a darling, sweet, innocent girl, had a profile pic of her doing her best "fuck you" pose, complete with the middle finger. She popped up as a person I might know*. You're right I know her . . . and promptly told her to remove that photo. "Would your mother be okay with that?" I asked. "No . . . she'd scream and yell," she replied. "Then why do you want the first thing that new friends see to be that photo?" I asked. There was no reply. Investigate what their online profile is like, and keep doing it.

We also can't control what they text to one another. In school, our students are supposed to leave their cell phones in their lockers turned off, and we do everything we can to prevent texting. But it happens. Girls keep their phones in their bras or boots. Boys keep them in baggy pants or in hoodie pockets. Again, you're the one paying the bills . . . so check the texts and picture messages. And investigate. Talk about what the language means. About how those pictures never, ever, ever go away. And when all else fails, don't ever let them forget that you love them unconditionally.

I've been at school all week, working on getting the last bits of our online curriculum done. I have a feeling that this is going to be a labor of love and something that is never quite finished. And the whole time I've been working on it, I wonder what my new group of students will be like. Hopefully they take my suggestions.

- Jill

* For the record, I don't have any students or former students as friends on social media sites. When they graduate, I'll happily accept them.

A Few Good Books

2011-08-11T18:59:00.001-04:00

When I was a child, my parents were afraid that I would begin to think of the book store as the library because I would spend so much time there. They put a quick limit on that amount of money that they were willing to spend on books for very good reason, and I was lucky to grow up with one of the best mid-western libraries. My father would take me there almost every Saturday to get whatever books I wanted. I can still remember where I was standing the first time I read the first page of Ellen Raskin's The Westing Game (single greatest book ever written for teenagers) and how I tore through the rest of her body of work in the following weeks. When I was old enough, my parents let me ride my bike several blocks (and across busy streets - the horror!) to the local branch where I'm pretty sure that I was on a first name basis with the librarian. Over time, my reliance on libraries has waned for a variety of reasons. We moved. The new library pretty much sucked. I moved. The new library was associated with college (but the local library was awesome for the Girls when they were little). We moved. No clue where the library was. We moved again. I don't think they had a library. We moved one more time. Library isn't bad but lacks new releases, basic knitting books, popular cook books, and I may have a small(ish) fine outstanding. Because of all those factors, I tend to buy the books I want these days. I read a pretty wide variety of genres, but I always fall back on non-fiction, chick lit (sue me . . . don't care), and young adult literature.

Young Adult literature, or YA if you are in education or a bookstore, has gotten a bad rap lately. Critics say: It's too dark; The themes are too mature; Children are victimized; It will ruin our children; Where are the parents? Truth be told, they are kind of right . . . it is dark . . . mature . . . lacking parents. But you know what? It was like that when I was 14, too. Kids at school would pass around books they knew their friends would want to read (Flowers In the Attic, anyone?) partially because they had access to them and their friends probably didn't. I can say with all certainty that had my mother known I was reading a book about siblings who decided to not only have sex with each other but have children with each other, she would have burned it in front of me. But she didn't know a thing about it . . . because I got it from a friend. Did is mess me up? Absolutely not. Could I have lived without having read it? Absolutely.

I truly love this little piece of technology

So . . . why do I still read YA at the tender age of 41? Because I teach seventh grade, and I like to know what my students are reading. For a while, I read it because my children were reading it, and I liked to know what they are reading. That ended with the Twilight saga basically because it was horrible, and I wasted four days reading the crap. Now, I take my cues from what my students are reading and what I can glean on Goodreads. I take advice from other teachers, friends, or family. And I still choose books by their cover. Sadly, my children don't take my advice that often. Guess I had a bad habit of trying to push certain books on them in which the plucky heroine overcomes all odds to lead a successful life. If you're looking for a good, quick, fun read, it's quite possible you might find any of these interesting.

The Hunger Games trilogy - I like a lot of series books, but I hate when a book leads you into a series. For example, I just finished Miss Peregrine's Home For Peculiar Children, which was good . . . but it sets you up completely for another book (and the first one wasn't strong enough to do that, in my opinion). The Hunger Games, while completely leading you into the second book, stands by itself. The story telling is top-notch, and the plot moves forward at a rapid pace. I started this book on audio two years ago but got side-tracked. That being said, when I picked up the paper version in June, I was astounded to realized I was only four chapters in. Suzanne Collins never insults the reader by telling you about the story. She does what every good writer does and allows you to imagine, in great detail, what is happening to the two protagonists. I won't give away any spoilers but suffice it to say, after three books (with two readings of each), I could easily go back and reread the series again.

Beauty Queens - This was a pure and simple impulse purchase. I wanted to load up my nook with books on our recent vacation and figured that I had enough "my boyfriend is a supernatural spirit killer/developer/nurturer and I'm a misunderstood faerie/Goth chick/potential CEO" to last me a good portion of the trip, and I wanted something goofy and fun and light. Boy did I ever get it! Supposedly, the story idea was tossed out at editors' meetings (A plane full of beauty queens crash lands on a desert island), but Libba Bray made it something real. She weaves the stories of the different teen beauty queens throughout the novel, and you can't help but identifying a little with some of them. Even the bumpers from "the Corporation" make you sit up a little and think, "Is this what we are funneling into our girls?"

Just read the books . . . before the movies come out

The Mortal Instruments series - Bought the first book in Las Vegas because of the cover. Google The City of Bones and get back to me. I'll wait . . . waiting . . . waiting. OK . . . see? How could I pass cover up. The writing hooked me within the first 50 pages, and I was praising it to everyone I could. Last October, when I was in Columbus for the Flickr meet-up, a friend of Erika's brought up Flowers in the Attic and asked if kids still read them. "No . . . incestuous relationships with borderline objectionable love scenes aren't really in favor any more," I said over my beer. Fast forward one day, on a plane, and I'm eating my words (relax . . . just read the books). I practically ran to a book store at Newark Liberty International to find the second book so I could continue reading it. At work, I told anyone I could think of about it (honestly, I should have gotten a cut of the profits from our school - or at least a free book). When I saw student reading it, I immediately sat her down for a long discussion about the series. Cassandra Clare recently released a few new snippets from her upcoming books . . . which can't get here fast enough as far as I am concerned. I've already preordered the next Clockwork book and can tell there is a big sneeze coming when it's released.

The Looking Glass Wars trilogy - Again, I have a problem with books in series. And to be fair, I didn't "read" these books but listened to them on the iPod. The premise? What if Alice's adventures in Wonderland were real? The protagonist is Alyss Hart, who after the murder of her mother by her sister, travels through a looking glass portal where she is raised by the Liddell family in England. Characters from Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland make appearances (including the author himself) in slightly altered forms - the Mad Hatter is now Hatter M, a kick-ass guard who protects Alyss at all costs, the Caterpillar is still a Caterpillar, only there are four or five of him and he sounds vaguely like John Lennon (remember . . . listened, not read . . . I'm pretty sure that I would hug the voice-over artist thinking that he was author Frank Beddor). This is one of the rare books that I broke my "purchase the books in the same format you started with if there are more to follow" as I gleefully purchased a hard cover version of the final one so the Girls could finish the series.

You Wish or Prada and Prejudice - I read Prada and Prejudice first because I can't pass up anything having to do with Jane Austen's masterpiece. It was the perfect blend of "what-if" and how lives are changed with simple choices. Buy a pair of Prada shoes you can't afford on a school trip to London, and you just might find yourself transported back in time to the Regency Period. I knew it was a good book when it promptly was stolen off of my book cart at school. You Wish truly had me laughing out loud as a girl finds all of her previous birthday wishes coming true over a succession of days. I shudder to think what I wished when I was 10; that walking up the stairs to my house would send me into a tailspin I'm sure. Both books are by Mandy Hubbard, and I can't wait to see what she does next.

Elsewhere - There are books that make you laugh. There are books that make you cry. And then there are books that make you do both. I alternated between giggles and tears pretty much the whole time I read Gabrielle Zevin's book about death and life and moving on. The protagonist dies before the book even begins and doesn't handle her own death very well. Seriously . . . who would? She's only 15 when she dies and feels cheated out of her life. However, she soon learns that even a life lived in reverse is one worth living. A warning: don't confuse it with the movie Elsewhere . . . not connected.

So, there you go. Fifteen suggestions for books. One of these might be fore you. One of these might be for a young adult you know. If you have any good suggestions, let me know . . . I'm always on the look out for something new. School is just around the corner, after all!

- Jill

PS - I linked to author's pages where I could since I would hope you might read the books and not the summary of the novel instead. And who knew Frank Beddor has had such a colorful life!

Reasons To Be Cheerful

2011-08-03T00:00:00.000-04:00

Twenty years ago, I made a choice. I said two little words after a series of questions that changed everything that I knew precisely one day prior. I said, "I do," and that was that.

Everyone assumes that having children is the choice, but for me, it wasn't. When we found out we were pregnant, having the Girls wasn't the choice. It was the getting married part that was. Because let's be honest . . . you don't have to be married to have children. But back to the story.

We didn't do things in the prescribed order, but it didn't really make a difference to us. For a while, it was the "family scandal" at reunions and other people's weddings. Now? So far down the scandal meter that you would be hard pressed to figure out why it even was one. I'm pretty sure that a significant portion of people at the wedding wouldn't have given us five years, and truly, who could blame them? Certainly not me. If I attended a wedding for two 21-year-olds with two infants today, I might be one of those people betting against the happy couple.

We still hold hands after 20+ years

But I would be wrong . . . 100% wrong. So, after 20 years, what have I learned.

A marriage is what you make of it. Invest very little? Get very little. Invest a whole lot of time, a whole lot of love . . . you get it back.
Learn to love the same kind of movies. Before, I could count the number of comic book/action flicks I loved on one hand. Now? Bring it. (I draw the line to sight-gag movies . . . no Airplane for me)
Laundry will be an issue. I like the towels folded one way; Dave likes the t-shirts folded another way. Fine . . . fold the towels my way, and I'll fold the t-shirts yours. Just don't expect me to keep my underwear folded. Not going to happen
A king-size bed is totally unnecessary. You can sleep for 20 years in a full-size bed and not kill each other. Just saying
If something bugs you, no one - including the person you pledged to love and honor - can read your mind. Spit it out and be done with it
Giving hints about birthday and Christmas presents is totally acceptable. Reread that last bit about #5
Fighting? Not.worth.the.effort . . . ever. Disagreements in 20 years: plenty. Fights: one. (Turns out we were both right . . . see? Not worth the fucking effort)
When your kids leave for college, be prepared for a long and bumpy road. Ours lasted about a year. It wasn't particularly painful, but it was just different. Kind of like dating a person when you know all of their dirty little secrets (and how they like their t-shirts folded)

So, 20 years ago, we had a lovely wedding and reception, filled with our family and friends. We went back to my mom and dad's house, we opened up our presents, and I nursed the Girls. Then Dave and I piled into our Honda Civic hatchback and headed to beautiful Indianapolis. It was all we could afford given that one month later the Girls would be on Medicaid, and we would all be receiving food stamps. But today . . . today we wake up in that same full-size beds in a house devoid of children and head off to a sunnier destination. Call it a second honeymoon or anniversary trip or just a plain old vacation. I'll call it four nights on a beach with a book and the sweetest, funniest, best man that I know: my husband.

I love you, Dave!

-J

*Seems I took a July break instead of an August one. A grad class that isn't want it was billed as plus writing an on-line course for seventh graders with little to no guidance will do that to you. Be back on August 8.

Things To Do This Weekend, But Most Likely Next Week Too

2011-07-01T13:38:00.002-04:00

I love lists. Make them all the time. Like to cross off little accomplishments. Sometimes, I'll even make a list of the things I've done just to reassure myself that I was, in fact, productive that day. But in the summer, when the schools are closed, and I don't have anywhere special to be at 7:10 AM, I need a list to function for the day. Without it, I'll look up at the clock and realize that it's 2:56 PM, and I'm still in my PJs* But weekends are worse because both of us are home . . . and it's very likely that we could both be in our PJs at 2:56 PM.

Nothing to do with the post . . . just the junk that I must now clean up

The weekend I should:

Get my next round of clothes for Project 333 selected.
Head to the attic and make room for my dresser . . . since I love that it matches Dave's and I refuse to let it go (plus I don't think my in-laws would forgive me).
Finish the skeleton of my Blackboard course. It's taking forever to get one unit done, and there are times I would like to scream.
Clean the gutters. Which means: get out the ladder, climb up, scoop the shit out, let the water drain, then take a shower
~~Sit 'n Knit on Saturday~~ and work the Fourth of July sale. Any knitters dream: personal shopper/pusher for all things fibery and good.
~~Possibly see a movie. Really want to see Bad Teacher if only to reassure myself that I am not.~~
Vacuum. I hate it, but I'm pretty sure that Dave is mowing the lawn, and it's the least I can do.
Possibly see if the Girls are free (but this might have to wait until next weekend . . . so don't get mad if you're reading this and don't see us this weekend, J & S).
Consider weeding. I say "consider" because I'm thinking that from a distance the weeds look green and lush and almost plantlike so why bother. At least I tell myself that they look green and lush.
~~Knit a few repeats on Starskey~~ or finish the decrease section on Idiot project 2

I should do all that, but I probably won't. I might get about one half of it done. Maybe I'll surprise myself and get 90% done. But I've got next Tuesday to work on the rest.

- Jill

* Most English teachers grade essays and paragraphs and reports, so many - at least three per month - are spent grading writing. So the fact that I might be in my PJs at 2:56 PM on a Wednesday is called "Sunday, February 27" . . . and that evens things out a bit in my mental ledger.

A Simple Note of Thanks

2011-06-29T20:39:00.001-04:00

It's been a weird few days here. We got back from visiting Dave's parents in Cambridge on Sunday night. Monday, I had to be at work for most of the day working on some curriculum writing for the digital world (that would be for a cyber-school). It's a whole new beast, and it honestly made my head hurt at one point. However, the real fun was saved for Tuesday. Seems Dave's on-again-off-again "love affair" with gout was on-again . . . only it decided that their old meeting place - the big toe - wasn't painful enough so it picked a new place - the middle of his foot.

So, a quick trip to the doctor's to confirm that this new painful spot was the same old gout meant a trip to the pharmacy and the realization that the previous meds were no longer on the market since the drug companies had done a new study to "improve" them. At least his doctor gave him some sweet painkillers to take the sting out of that news.

By this morning, he was feeling much better but still not capable of walking or going to work. We spent most of the day reading, watching dumb movies, and basically doing absolutely nothing. But the mail brought the most welcome sight in a long time. A simple note of thanks from a woman I never met before and probably never will again.

Veronica was one of my fellow passengers stranded in Austin, Texas, after Continental decided to dump our asses there when a flight attendant called out sick. I guess getting you as far as Austin in a state the size of Texas was a pretty big accomplishment. But at midnight, it seemed like a death sentence. However, I overheard Veronica talking to another woman (her name wound up being Pam, which I learned after she was heaving her bags in the trunk of my rental car) about sharing a ride to San Antonio. My normal shy side took a backseat, and I volunteered to drive them to San Antonio because a) I had no idea where I was going, b) I needed people to keep me awake, and c) there was no sense in three people driving when one would suffice. Needless to say, we picked up another Continental cast-off (Addeline) at the rental car desk, the ride went very smoothly, and no one was harmed in their attempts to make it to San Antonio. Pam and Addeline each chipped in with some cash, but Veronica said she would mail me some. So . . . I gave her my address, never intending to hear from her, wished the ladies well, and went on my merry way to the Riverwalk where a soft, comfy bed and my husband were waiting.

But today, I got that thank you note from Veronica saying that she hadn't forgotten my generosity and was sorry for not writing earlier but things had gotten crazy. She also included $40 in the card, which was a fraction of the cost of a one-way rental. However, her generosity was the one that should be applauded. She was an excellent navigator and never once stopped chatting since sleep was something that neither of us had encountered for close to 24 hours. So for that . . . thank you, Veronica! Besides, that $40 will buy me enough yarn at the Fourth of July sale to make a new sweater.

- Jill

PS - Finished Beautiful Creatures this evening. It was pretty good . . . I'll summarize it later this week.

Admitting Defeat . . . What? It Can Happen!

2011-06-21T06:45:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, I did something that I've never done before. Before you get all, "Whoooooo . . . true confession time!" it's really not that salacious. I simply took a sweater that I had maybe three inches left to go in a sleeve and carefully picked out the cast off end, attached it to the ball winder, and began cranking. In a nutshell, I frogged a sweater. The thing is, I'd never given in to that feeling of defeat in the past and ripped anything out. Sure, there have been stops and starts in the past, but this sweater was something that I knew wouldn't work for me, and I liked the yarn better for something else.

January: Center of Attention

I had started a version of the Hey, Teach! sweater last summer, but I don't like cotton, so I knit it in Cascade 220. And I don't really like short sleeve sweaters, so I decided to follow the directions for a three-quarter length sweater. Two strikes that coupled with a rather inappropriate-for-me waist placement made for a sweater that was destined never to make it to light. But yet I knit on . . . through a confusing pattern, through enough modifications to strangle a cow, through a summer when I could have been working on things I really liked.

February: Reciprocation

But yesterday, I needed sweater quantity yarn to make a sweater (like you couldn't see that coming). More importantly, I needed an idiot proof pattern so that I could knit and A) watch movies both captioned and not; B) read; C) be a supportive passenger in the car; and D) not have to stress out about charts over. Enter the Effortless Cardigan. Pretty, easy-peasy, looks good with dress pants or jeans. Effortless might be the understatement.

March: Stripes Alive

I also gave up on the Skacel 20 Years of Knitting patterns. After the first one, I wasn't really taken by any of the patterns. Shelby benefited from the fingerless gloves (still have to make her sister a pair), Mom got the striped "WOW! These look just like Jaywalker with a purl row" socks, I kept the ones from January and April, and the ones from May are still on the needles (note: the yarn is garish, I don't care for the pattern, and the front an back don't match). So . . . I gave up. I'll finish the May pair eventually and probably the June pair because I bought the yarn, but let's face it: the whole point for knitting them was to enter into a contest. And I'll never win that contest.

April: Cranked

So, I quit that sweater yesterday, and today I might just drop out of an on-line class that I think might be too much for my skill set. And I can live with that.

May: Lacery

- Jill

PS - Tomorrow is Erika's birthday . . . you might want to wish her a happy birthday or make a bowl of Jeni's Splendid Ice Cream from the cookbook. And if you don't have the book yet, what is wrong with you?

I Win the Award For Worst Project Keeper

2011-05-29T22:17:00.000-04:00

At any given time, I might have five or six lists going. One for work, one for home, one for knitting, one in the car, one on the laptop, one on the bathroom mirror, one on the phone . . . and there are very rarely any duplicates. If I have something that I really must remember for the morning, I'll write it on the bathroom mirror in dry-erase marker. I usually have things that I need to buy written in the phone: printer cartridge, cat food, box of red pens, tampons, new book. So you would think that tackling a few projects at the beginning of the year would be easy-peasy.

Wrong . . . dead wrong. I signed up for Ali Edward's One Little Word class on Big Picture. I've loved her work from the years when I scrap booked. So it seemed like the perfect fit. Sadly, I haven't completed a single month. Not from lack of want, mind you, but I haven't taken the time to figure out Photoshop yet, so I'm putting it off until this summer. I also signed up for Tracey Clark's Picture Inspiration, and I was keeping up with it pretty regularly but having a student teacher and trips to Philadelphia and a billion other things got in the way. And I'm putting that off until this summer, too.

Two projects that I've kept up with are Project 365 and Project 333. You can click on over to the Flickr stream for the Project 365 updates. But Project 333 takes on its own life. Originally, the rules ask you to take a daily photo of your outfit . . . but that didn't sit well with me. Seriously, sometimes it's hard enough to get a good BAM, but every damn day in grey or black pants? Ummm, no. So I posted my original list and stuck to it for three months. But come April, when I was supposed to post a new list, I didn't partially because I was pressed for time but also because the weather here was shit.

But a project is a project . . . and here's my list for the next phase of Project 333:

black 3/4 sleeve shirt from LL Bean
black 3/4 sleeve shirt from Tee Street
green 3/4 sleeve shirt from LL Bean
white 3/4 sleeve shirt from Tee Street
green linen sweater from Gap
teal short sleeve sweater from Old Navy
teal short sleeve t-shirt from Old Navy
green short sleeve shirt from Apartment 9 (Kohl's)
ivory sheer sweater from Old Navy
green sheer sweater from Old Navy
green short sleeve cardi from Lane Bryant
black cropped 3/4 sleeve cardi from Torid
green 3/4 sleeve butterfly top fro Old Navy
grey swing cardi from Old Navy
black swing cardi from Macy's
black capris from Daisy Fuentes (Kohl's)
black capris from Apartment 9 (Kohl's)
black capris from Dockers
khaki capris from Old Navy
boyfriend jeans (can be cuffed and are quickly becoming my favorite)
capri jeans
Mossimo jeans
denim skirt from Lane Bryant*
teal dot skirt from Target*
white Old Navy tank
pink Old Navy tank
white Lane Bryant cami
TOMS in natural
black Clarks pumps
black Clarks sandals
brown Bjorn sandals
black t-shirt dress from Target
Chamila bracelet

For my three mix-in-and-mix-out pieces, I've chosen a Temple t-shirt, Old Navy's Love Proudly t-shirt (coming out tomorrow), and grey pants. You can probably tell by looking at the list that green is the color of the season. And until today, the two items with the asterisk weren't even out of the attic. I had a lovely teal 3/4 length shirt from LL Bean, but sadly I spilled gunk on it . . . so now it's a beautiful teal rag.

I spent most of today updating my laptop's operating system (pain-in-my-ass) and cleaning out the attic. At this point in time, I've kept one tall tower of shelves - that I've had since 1988 when I started college - to store my seasonal clothes, and I have one clear storage container of clothes that didn't work for phase one or two but might for phase three or four.

So, there you have it . . . two projects I've kept up with. Two projects I plan on catching up in the summer. And one project that I've abandoned all together. A while back I said I wasn't going to eat out for three months. Lasted about one week if you really must know.

- Jill

PS - And yes, I know I've left bags off my list. I'm down to just three: an everyday purse by Kelly Moore, a work bag by Emera*, and a knitting bag by Namaste. Seriously . . . getting down to just three was a feat that anybody who knows me would be shocked by.

Surprising News

2011-05-17T09:47:00.000-04:00

No. I'm not pregnant. The blog would go dark if that news was ever typed out.
Yesterday Mark came into the family room and said he was going to do the dishes forever. He then flipped it and said, "for the next four months." Truth be told, I could give a shit if he does it forever or for months. I just love that he's going to do it.

{I've also given up buying cheap detergent. It doesn't work}

Other news? I signed up for Mondo Beyondo. A few reasons why. One, she said it was life-changing and I listen to my friends. Two, I'm supposed to take a class this year and I'm thinking this will give me a push to take another one. Three, they were running a buy one get one free deal. Why not? I'll blog about it over here. There's a post up, so please update your feeds.

Oh yeah... I'm having a contest! Head over & help me out.

-Erika

A Certain Amount of Apathy

2011-05-08T09:41:00.002-04:00

I picked the Girls up from school on Friday; finals are over, there's a week between now and graduation, and they needed a small break from the campus. Some how, on the way back on the Turnpike, we got on the topic of the Magic Bullet. Jordan commented that she wanted one for next year so that they could make sauces (cough, cough - mixed drinks) and such.

"You know, they make that now specifically marketed to people who want to make their own baby food," I said. "I kind of think making your own baby food is the way to go," Jordan said (at least I think it was Jordan . . . it's kind of hard to get the players right when you are going 75 mph on a road designed for cars in the 1950s). "I made most of your baby food because it was easier and cheaper than buying it," I added. "I think I'm too apathetic to ever have a baby," Shelby said.

When I thought about it a little bit later, I think I probably had a certain amount of apathy when they were little. Not that I ever looked at them and thought, "Whatevs . . . just sit there and do something with each other. I can't be bothered." But the whole baby-proof-your-house-within-an-inch-of-sanity was catching on, and truth be told, I couldn't be bothered with that. Outlet covers - that's about it. I've been in bathrooms before where I've had to ask people how to get their toilet seat up because it was either figure out how to use the baby-proofed lock or pee in the sink, which might have been easier.

A couple of weeks ago, their friend's mom had her second child, and that still takes me aback a little. First child: in college with them; second child: newborn. When I think about how much things have changed since the Girls were born as far as the gadgets and gizmos, I'd like to think that I wouldn't really alter how I approached motherhood . . . but I'm not sure if that would be true. Would I still sleep them on their stomachs? Yup. Would I still use an Infa-feeder? Probably not. No baby gate? Maybe. How about limiting television? Oh, my god, yes. A lot of what I did with the Girls I based on what my mom did with us. Is that pan hot? Here's a novel concept . . . teach your child that the pan is hot and will burn you. Don't want your kid to touch the shit on your table? Use the word no over and over and over again. Want your kid to read? Read to them and have books every where even if you don't like to read or consider yourself to be a reader. I know this might not work for every kid, but being slightly apathetic sure was a lot cheaper than buying the monitors that had video screens and heat sensors or covering every corner with foam rubber.

Even if your mom isn't a teacher as a profession, she was your first teacher. You probably learned all sorts of stuff that she never intended: how to let you win without making it appear so, how to cheat at cards, how to make something very mundane look incredible, how to stretch a dollar to an inch of breaking, how to make trips in a car fun, how to do a lot with a little. How do I know all this? I had a fucking brilliant teacher. If the Girls ever decide to have children, I hope they feel the same way.

Happy Mother's Day . . . to all the moms out there,
- Jill

Lego Love.

2011-04-20T20:36:00.000-04:00

When does Lego Love die? Really? I have instructions lodged somewhere in every room of our house. My feet have scars from stepping on the tiny pieces. When I complained about it to my dad, he asked if it was my fault for not picking them up. Has the man ever seen a Lego? They disappear into our carpet like I'd imagine Navy Seals do in battle. They will wait forever. Somehow using magical forces to dodge the vacuum. You think I've lost it because I'm giving Legos not only human qualities, but also magical ones? You might be right. The boys picked out the same Lego toy today. They both wanted the beetle and I felt we had avoided a battle. Score for all parties. When we got home, I was talked into a race. This is Daddy's duties. I don't do Legos or the teeth brushing. But today, I had to do both. Cooper called for a race and I accepted. I knew better than to talk shit to the 6 year-old. Not because that would make me a horrible mother (I'm not sure I'd be joking) because I figured he'd crush my fumbling fingers. And I can't deal his excessive celebration, so I played it cool. He'd shout out, "I'm on step 6" while I was on step 2. We finished and our house had two beetles, two men with a pick axe and a shot gun, two coffee mugs, two fires with two chicken legs roasting, and I had two boys that were really happy. Coop pointed out that I screwed up one of the legs. I thought Lego made a mistake, but I was wrong. He moved my leg and showed how it could be used to balance the bug. I learned two things tonight: read directions carefully and I'll be wearing shoes in my house for a long time.

-Erika

There She Goes

2011-04-15T05:30:00.008-04:00

When you go out into the workforce, they generally give you a manual or a job description or something that will get you through the day. Occasionally, they'll give you some on-the-job training, perhaps even a mentor or two. But being a parent is a whole other kettle of fish. Sure there are books, but have you ever really studied the What To Expect book series? The information in there is enough to scare a woman into crossing her legs and hoping for the best for the rest of her fucking life. But you can't cross your legs and ignore that ever growing bump because ready or not, you've got to have that baby sometime. You can read every book ever written. You can be the best baby-sitter ever. It still won't help after they hand that baby - or two - over to you.

So, twenty years ago, I was concerned about getting drugs before the contractions got any worse (yup . . . at 1cm, I was concerned about drugs). I didn't want to puke on the operating table (I did). Dave didn't want to see anything during the C-section (and saw it all). By 10:30 PM, we no longer had Baby A and Baby B. Instead, Jordan and Shelby entered our lives, and we never looked back.

"There She Goes" by the Boo Radleys

"Sweet Disposition" by Temper Trap

Happy birthday, Girls! You are the greatest . . . and I have the tattoo to prove it.

Love,
Madre

PS - When they were little, they would often sing the songs that Dave and I listened to. "There She Goes" was one of their favorite. Somehow, their other favorite didn't seem appropriate for a birthday.

Postcards!

2011-04-13T10:32:00.000-04:00

I love a good postcard! Who doesn't? It's like a nugget of gold in your mailbox. There's the electric bill. The mortgage. A flier for a doggy dental cleaning. Blaaa... And then, what's this? Awwh a postcard from a friend that lives too far away. The day instantly gets better when your fingers flip it over.

I've got two sets in the etsy store. "Thank you & Hi" notes are sweet little postcards to stay in touch with family & friends. And "Cuteness in the Mail" is a collection of my favorite images! The 5 postcard set is printed on high quality paper stock. The reverse side is left open with plenty of space for you to jot down your greetings.

Send some cheer this spring! Head over & do some shopping.

Food Time

2011-04-12T11:58:00.000-04:00

Remember when I posted about America's Test Kitchen? Ok good. Let's talk. I've been cooking like a mad woman from this magazine. It's oil stained and crumpled with notes in the margins. I've already made about 17 of the recipes & I can't complain about one of them. Not one. I beg of you to find this magazine & pick it up! I will never make pan-seared chicken breast any other way than how it's described in this magazine. I will always save a little bit of vodka for the empanadas' crust. We have finally found a pizza crust that satisfies our entire house (it's super healthy & it bakes like a dream). In the past, I've baked sheets of spiced nuts that turn out icky or burnt. No longer, friends! Even the recipes that didn't thrill Mark, he could still agree that they were pretty delicious. He's not a huge crab cake fan. But Becks and I ate them quickly. But Mark ate the empanadas for dinner, breakfast, lunch, & as a late night snack. If you only knew how huge that is, you'd still be smiling. I am.

Recently, my dad said "Erika, you make the best salads". You know, what? I do! But it's because of this little gem of a magazine. I don't have a picture of this one because my Mom ate all of it. She even apologized for it, but that's what's supposed to happen to good food. Here is my favorite of the two salads I've already made. The one she ate every last bite of.

Pear and Cranberry Chopped Salad
ATK Best of 2010
1 cucumber, peeled, halved lengthwise, seeded and cut into 1/2 inch dice
3T extra-virgin olive oil
3T sherry vinegar
1 red bell peper seeded and chopped
1 firm & ripe pear, diced
1/2 small red onion, diced
1/2C dried cranberries
1 romaine heart, chopped
4 oz. of blue cheese crumbled
1/2C pistachios toasted & chopped

1. Combine the cucumber and 1/2t of salt in a colander set over a bowl and drain for 15 minutes.
2. Whisk the oil and vinegar in a large bowl. Add drained cucumber, pepper, pear, onion, and cranberries. Toss and let stand at room temperature for 5 minutes.
3. Combine everything and toss to combine. Season with salt and pepper.
4. Enjoy!

I'll share the pizza crust later. Because every house should have it in their recipe file. It's really healthy and really delicious. I know how difficult that can be.

Don't forget to watch Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution! Season 2 premieres tonight!

We need two hands.

2011-04-08T07:48:00.001-04:00

Because he's six. More later because I've got a date with a handsome kid.

Happy birthday!

The Eve of my Journey into Motherhood.

2011-04-07T17:57:00.004-04:00

I'm celebrating tonight and I don't feel awkward or self conscious posting it. Six years ago, I was huge and uncomfortable, but life was still pretty easy. If I didn't want to eat lunch, I didn't. My fingers had never touched human poo. I could go to a movie whenever I wanted to. If I had a headache, I could sleep all day until it went away. I could make chili as spicy as I wanted to. I had disposable income. I was an expert in my own life. At 10 p.m., a whopping contraction was about to change all of that.

When I got pregnant, I spent 9 months telling everyone I had no clue what I was doing. I didn't. I spent the first three months with a baby that didn't want to be outside the womb. I'm guessing that if I thought I knew what to do with a normal newborn, Cooper was there to prove me wrong. I'm grateful that I had no clue. Life was a tad easier during a difficult period. He was fed, cleaned, and swaddled a lot. I figured out how to do those basics. I never figured out how to stop his crying, I just figured out how to live with it.

But on the eve of my Motherhood anniversary (Hallmark should make a card), I still don't know what I'm doing. I'll be honest because I think that helps. I probably should be doing more to potty-train my youngest. My oldest is late entering organized sports. I don't read to my youngest as much as what I did with Cooper. Sometimes I laugh when I shouldn't. I'm carrying a three year-old when I vowed to never do it. I lose my temper more often than I'd like. Right now, they're on the computer when we all should be playing together. None of these things will shatter our world. In six years, I've learned that motherhood is hard and sometimes completely overrated. Why make it harder by being an expert? Children are so unpredictable and different, I don't understand how anyone can claim that title even for your own family. I'd rather be a beginner at Motherhood.

Maybe that's my current key to life: to always be a beginner. You can't fall far when you admit that you have the basic knowledge of a job. I know the basics. Seatbelts. Give them good food most of the time. Make sure they sleep at some point. And teach the Golden Rule. My kids are happy and healthy. Sometimes they say, "Please" and "Thank you" without be prompted. They hug each other when we do pick-ups. They won't spit food out at the table if they hate it. They'll choke it down and won't take another bite. Our parenting accomplished those actions, but I still really have no idea how to do this job.

I also don't think calling myself a Beginner is code for Slacker. To me, a beginner looks at all aspects of tasks. I'll listen to all the advice you want to give me. If I don't take it, don't be offended. I know it won't work for our family. I'm not completely clueless. And if we're talking and I give you advice, I'm not saying you're a bad mom. I've been on this path. Maybe I've been on it longer. Maybe I've got something that might just work for you. Maybe I'm not completely clueless. Maybe I think a community of ideas is much stronger than one ridged concept. But don't take it as a motherhood gospel. I wouldn't. And I won't be offended. You know what works for your family, but maybe off-road it a bit & see if it works before squashing things. I've done things I never thought I would and it works. But if you think I'm a Slacker, that's fine. In the past 6 years, I've learned something I should have already known: Women like to judge. And mothers judge more because the sake of their own parenting depends on the fact that they are right. My parenting or self-worth doesn't depend on being right. My parenting depends on giving my children the tools to be happy and independent. And I'll admit I'm wrong to accomplish that.

One of those things I was able to be and do 6 years ago is back. I'm back to being an expert about myself. After a road of full of doubt, I know me again. And what I've learned is I'm not an expert in anything but myself. I know what I like and how to deal with stuff I don't. I know that my life is about dealing with change and I'll even do some changing. But I'm not an expert on my spouse, my children, or anything else but me. I might know how to deal with them better than a stranger would, but they keep me on my toes all too often. I wish I could go back to have poo virgin hands, but that's asking for too much.

Here's to many more years as a beginner. Because I'm guessing all this knowledge I've acquired isn't going to do shit when the kids are teenagers. It will mean nothing when they're adults. No use in trying to be an expert.

-Erika

Kind of Like Sand In Your Bathing Suit

2011-04-06T21:38:00.000-04:00

Things that are annoying me these days:

my students who don't take me seriously when I suggest studying five to ten minutes each night so they don't have to cram at the last minute
the fact that my laptop battery won't hold a charge for more than 23 minutes at a time
the pre-order from Amazon that I placed in December for the latest Mortal Instruments book (which came out yesterday) won't be delivered to my house until Saturday
the dog is farting and snoring
and the gas light in my car came on the minute I got in the driveway
April has been pretty cold and rainy and dreary

But the weekend is less than 48 hours away.

-Jill

Thanks.

2011-03-23T20:48:00.001-04:00

Dear Jill,
You won't get a "Thank You" note because we talked on the phone. You knew one wasn't coming though, right? I would have put Becks on the phone to properly thank you, but he was busy helping with the Ninja building. We'll call tomorrow. Or Friday. Or in maybe in 3 months...

-Erika

Dear Anyone Else Reading,
Please note that Becks' birthday is in January. Cooper's is in April. We were confused by who got the gift since Jill didn't put a name on the box. Cooper assumed it was his since Becket's was "forever ago". But I explained that this was "Aunt" Jill we were discussing. And that's why we love her.

-Erika

Projects, Projects Everywhere

2011-03-23T12:26:00.000-04:00

Is there anyone who doesn't love a good project? I mean, seriously . . . not even a little bit? Maybe it needs to have the word project in the title in order to be an "officially sanctioned" one, but for some reason, projects just make me smile a little bit.

The first phase of Project 333 is about to come to an end in eight short days. It's been easier to accomplish than I originally thought. Have I missed the clothing in the big bins upstairs? Not really. Do I plan on donating most of them. Absolutely. Does the next phase terrify me? Oh, god, yes! The problem with phase two is the months that it will encapsulate. Considering it is snowing right now, I'm concerned that I won't have a mix of warm and cold clothes. Plus school will end some time in June (fingers crossed), so I will need a mix of professional and non-professional clothing. But I'm pretty sure that I can make it work without too many issues. Here's the plan:

Keep four pair of capris on the top shelf and trade them in for the pants when the weather gets too warm.
Buy some tops from L. L. Bean that will work for both work and non-work days.
Get rid of anything that doesn't seem like it will work for the next six months.
Stop buying shirts from Old Navy since they aren't very thick and they wear out pretty quickly.

Considering that Project 333 has been pretty much pain free, I'm thinking that I need to reassess my eating . . . more importantly the amount that we eat out. I could easily cook dinner, but all too often, Dave and I eat dinner out. Granted, it's just the two of us, but still . . . it adds up. So, from April to June, no eating out. Conditions? You bet: one dinner out a month (because my sushi making skills are asstacularly bad) and the weekly breakfasts at Panera or Starbucks don't count. That will mean lots more dishes, lots more planning, lots more fiddling with recipes. The book of choice? Mark Bittman's Kitchen Express because I like his approach to recipes . . . basically do what you want within the parameters of the food you have. My kind of food. If I can make it (and Dave, too), I have a small plan in place at the end of June . . . but that needs more planning probably in the form of a project or two.

- Jill

Shop & Give at the Same Time. It Really is That Simple.

2011-03-14T10:00:00.003-04:00

Help the people of Japan. Shop.
Learn More.
And shop.

See? Simple!

-Erika

American Test Kitchen Best of 2010 Cook Through

2011-03-12T09:47:00.000-05:00

I have a problem. Doesn't it seem like I'm always typing that? Maybe I'm not. Or maybe I just bitch about my "problems" more than most. But let's continue with my current problem. I love cookbooks! And when I find one I love, I tell a lot a people about its beauty and worthiness. You need this one! You hide veggies in food! This is the greatest Vegetarian cookbook to be written. You don't even have to knead the bread. It's true. I have 4 cookbooks I flip through on a regular basis:

How to Cook Everything Vegetarian-Mark Bittman
Vegetarian Classics- Jeanne Lemlin
Betty Crocker Cookbook Bridal Edition
Food Revolution- Jamie Oliver

I reach for one of these cookbooks at least once a week. These are my books that look a little gross within the pages. Spines are cracked near certain recipes. Juices are dried on favorite pages. Soon I'll be making revisions on the pages of my favorites.

I also love cooking magazines. It's their quickness mixed with their glossy photos of yummy dishes. I dog-ear a dozen recipes and plot our dinners. But my problem occurs when I fall out of love. Those dog-eared recipes get recycled. The cookbooks are replaced with newer ones. And as if these loves need another kick to the gut, I rarely cook the same thing twice. Maybe it's to be fair to the revolving number of cookbook/magazine. Maybe it's because I want to have something new on my table. I've gotten better, but still not as good as I'd like.

One magazine that is the King of All Cooking Magazines is American Test Kitchen's special issues. I think they come out 4 times a year, but I could be wrong. The directions are things experienced cooks drool over and novice cooks crave. The reviews are always spot-on and never feel like advertisements. If you've never seen or purchased one of these issues, find one today. I've flipped through this issue at least a dozen times. Each time a new recipe would entice me, but I'd put it back. I don't need another cooking magazine! But last week I remembered my plan to cook through a cookbook. Could this be considered a cookbook? I think so. It has 95 recipes ranging from snacks to desserts. There isn't one recipe that I really don't want to try. It's full of recipes that I would never try. I'm not a huge fan of roast or ribs. But the pages look delicious. I'd try those recipes if I had to. And now I'm forcing myself to try them.

I won't always blog about it. I can't do that. And I won't strive to photograph them like a food blogger. But when I do, I'll share my opinions and what the family thought of them. When we need a dinner, this will be the first place I'll go to. Friends? If we invite you to dinner, it will come from this magazine. I'm not putting a deadline on it because I just want to finish them. And I won't buy another cookbook or cooking magazine until I've finished. Gasp... With one little exception... American Test Kitchen special magazines are fair game. I've missed an issue before and it haunted me. Thankfully a friend had it and I could copy the recipes I knew I'd try. Scroll all the way to the top of this post and you'd also know that I haven't tried any of them. But I have them if I want to.

I've made one and I'll write about it tomorrow: Empanadas.

p.s. Another cookbook that I'll tackle this year comes out in June. I thought I'd add some balance to my diet. Pre-order it. And buy this while you're at it. Come June you'll be thanking me.

-Erika

Flickr Stuff

2011-03-10T09:30:00.000-05:00

I haven't worried too much about Flickr crazies. I also haven't had photos of my kids turn up on random websites. Maybe then I'd start to worry. But here's two things I don't understand:

1. Tumblr. Yes, it's flattering that someone is inspired by my photo. But when it flies around the web & people click back to the photostream & they don't say "Hi"... That's weird.

2. People who Favorite a photo or add me as a contact and they don't have photos available to me to look at. Fine. If you want to keep your kids private, good. But don't expect me to share mine with you. I'll block you.

OK. I'm done.

-Erika

p.s. I think I found my cookbook to cook through. More on that later.

Day Late, Dollar Short . . . Story of My Life

2011-02-28T23:07:00.000-05:00

Kinda forgot to post this . . . but who could forget stalking prey amongst the high plains grass on the Ohio State University's campus? And as a Pennsylvania girl, that bumper sticker really resonates with me.

Columbus + Flickr = LOVE from Jill Greenwood on Vimeo.

Music: "The One Thing" by INXS

- Jill

Sorry.

2011-02-27T10:01:00.000-05:00

We decided to play Sorry on Saturday. I don't remember playing it a lot as a kid. I do remember thinking it was confusing and all I wanted to do was slide. We were bigger fans of Life. Those little cars and pegs were more fun than some plastic pawns. After dinner, Cooper wanted to play and I thought, "What's the harm?" The first game nearly came to blows. I'm exaggerating, but it was pretty brutal. The second game came down to the wire, but I pulled out the win! Yes, I'm bragging because my family is pretty competitive. We haven't played Monopoly in decades. The last time we played, someone left the table in tears. Euchre is always loud and the rules are reviewed a million times. Did you deal correctly? Are you sure you don't have any hearts? You know that's actually a Spade, right? Sorry was no exception. Spaces were counted and recounted. Adults gave Cooper suggestions on who to send back Home. People were laughed at when their hopes of winning were dashed. Once we got down to the end, Cooper's age didn't matter. He was sent back to home just as much as the adults were. But we had fun and have a solid gift idea for an upcoming birthday. So if you come to our house any time soon, don't be surprised if we break out Sorry. It's not for the weak and don't expect us to be nice.

-Erika

Winter has Stolen my Voice.

2011-02-25T11:04:00.000-05:00

Last night, I figured that I should start pulling my weight with this blog. But I don't have enough words to create paragraphs, so I'll give you a list of stuff that makes me happy this snowy Friday.

1. I joined Twitter. Why so late, Erika? I'm a late bloomer. Don't even ask when I got my period... I guess right now I'm only good with 140 words. Here I am. And I promise I won't talk about the beginnings of my period. Maybe.

2. I'm obsessed with Adele. Full on girl crush. I might cry if I ran into her at Target. Obsessed. Our entire house loves "Rumor Has It". I wish some "classy" stripper would add it to her set. There's glitter I'd be ok to come home with stuck to my clothing.

3. Ikea trip this weekend. Meatballs & lamps will be purchased. Kids aren't coming, so our sanity will be spared.

4. Pinterest. Enough said. Pin it!

5. I've got a work trip coming that should supply me with enough sun to last until Spring. That's the plan anyway.

6. Wish this lady a "Happy Birthday"!

That's all I've got today. Six little points.
Happy weekend, people!

-Erika

So I Got a Compliment From My Girls

2011-02-20T22:36:00.000-05:00

Been a while, right? Let's run down the list of usual suspects: February sucks (raise your hands if you agree), the weather sucks (keep 'em up), the news sucks even harder (can I get an "Amen"), and sickness has been rampant (what ever companies make Puffs, Tylenol Cold & Sinus, and Ny-Quil ought to be in double digit profits by now). Tie all this up in a shiny little bow called "life," and you get a pretty big dose of blog silence (there's always Flickr, don't forget).

It's been about six weeks since Dave and I dropped the Girls off in Philly for the second semester. In that time, we've chatted on a phone a bit, texted a lot, and sent numerous Facebook messages - most of which either dissected the location of Vietnam Restaurant in Chinatown and why their father should have his own Facebook site. We bought them Cheez-Its for Valentine's Day and some other goofy crap . . . but then they surprised us with news that they were coming home for President's Day weekend. Awesome! But only for the evening. Now so awesome!

It was a quick trip, one that enabled them to head to Target and pick up all the things that would cost double at a Rite-Aid near school. But during that trip, they paid us a pretty big compliment: we had raised competent adults. They know how to: pay bills on time, recycle appropriately, wash dishes, cook for themselves, care for an animal, write papers that get As, budget their time, save their money (or at least know that saving their money is a good idea), know when to leave when people are drinking, treat other people the way that they would like to be treated, talk to other people politely.

At first, I wasn't sure it was a compliment . . . but then I thought about it, and figured that they were right: we had, in fact, raised competent adults. Jordan is currently a student coordinator for the Honor's department's alternative Spring Break. So when we see her sister over Spring Break, Jordan will be working with different faith communities in Philly on outreach projects. Shelby finished her study abroad application for Heidelberg and will most likely be celebrating her 21st birthday nine hours before Jordan. There are plans already for grad school in California or Vermont and the studying of the Icelandic language and heading off for different countries.

But no matter where they go, they'll still be Other Baby and Other Baby, carefully scripting what they wanted the other one to say.

- Jill

White Flag

2011-02-08T21:33:00.000-05:00

February is a tough month. It's when most people give up on Winter & fall into the blues. I'm not quite at that point yet. I don't love winter. I never have & I never will. But I'm not clouded with the winter blues yet. I'll give it another two weeks. But I have given up on something. I'm tossing in the towel on Joy of Love. It's a fantastic project, but the less pressure I have the better I can to survive this winter. But I love Love like everyone else in the world. I decided that I'll continue to photograph one thing I love each day & try to explain why.

I love a good hotel. I think I'm extremely fortunate to spend a night in a hotel a few times a month. I believe it makes me a better wife and mother. I get quality time to recharge. When the boys were newborns, I got a good nights sleep. Now I get to do anything I want uninterrupted and guilt-free. I get the remote. I can make a mess and not clean it up if I want to. I can take a 30-minute shower and no one comes in asking for snack. I have more tiny shampoo bottles than one woman should own and I still buy full-sized bottles. I love the free magazines in the lobby. I love the happy hour specials. I love one with a decent restaurant within walking distance. I love hotels more now than I ever did pre-kids.

It isn't always easy, but Mark has always been supportive. It isn't like I would have quit my job after kids because I have to travel. I was never worried about leaving him with the kids. Other colleagues used to ask me who was watching the baby. And then they'd ask if my mother or MIL was with him. No. He's the father. It's what he's supposed to do. Breast-feeding isn't ideal for a mother on the road, but it's what had to be done. I've spilled more breast-milk in more hotels all over Ohio, Indiana, and Michigan. More cleaning crews have discovered forgotten bags of breast-milk in the fridge or in sinks filled with ice. There was always more, so I stopped worrying about losing them. I've soothed a few tears over the phone. I've cried in hotel rooms because I heard a baby giggle. I've teared up because I've watched other children with their parents. I've been startled awake a few times because of fire alarms and mingled with other tired strangers as we waited to return to sleep. I've wondered if the stranger in the hallway was going to force himself into my room. I've checked mirrors and imagined that covert cameras were installed. I've been almost certain that I'd appear on some pervy site called "Naked Hotel Travellers.com" It wouldn't be hot and the viewers would be disappointed, so I'm not really worried about it. I've checked windows six times to make sure it was properly locked. I've broken remotes because I tried to use it as a bottle opener.

But I love hotel rooms. And during the long weeks, I've found reasons to really appreciate them. There's no use being more miserable away from home because that isn't difficult to do. Home is always better. But a comfy bed in a dark silent room is a close second.

8:28 Days of Love

-Erika

What You Love To Hate

2011-02-05T19:23:00.000-05:00

Around Christmas time, Dave found a Clockwork Man on a website for about $6.00 and decided to buy it. He told me it was huge, but I never anticipated on it being as tall as what it was. He's had other large action figure before, and all have had disastrous results.

The Sauron figure he bought in England had a voice chip and would play some of the lines from the Lord of the Rings movies. It was so loud that I could hear it in the living room. Occasionally it would go off in the middle of the night and scare the shit out of me. How else should one react when you hear a booming, "Build me an army of Mordor." One minute I'm sleeping soundly, happily dreaming of fluffy bunnies or Matt Damon or fluffy bunnies and Matt Damon. The next? Wondering if my house is being attacked by Orcs.

Prior to Sauron, he had a Stormtrooper that was incredibly detailed in all respects except for one: balance. At least once a week, he would spring from his perch and land on the floor with a giant thud. Sometimes it would wake me up and I would place it gingerly on the dresser. But other times I would step on it upon waking and nearly fall head first into the dresser. The Stormtrooper lasted a little longer than Sauron, but I did threaten to break its head off the next time it decided to commit suicide by dresser jumping.

So, the Clockwork Man? It holds a special place in my heart because it didn't do a damn thing to me . . . it did it to Jordan. About four or five years ago, Jordan and Dave were watching a Doctor Who episode, "The Girl In the Fireplace," and she got supremely scared by the Clockwork Man. I wasn't home and didn't fully comprehend how scared she was until later. The phone rang about 3 AM, and when I answered, it was a very frightened Jordan on the other end. The only problem? She was calling to tell me she was a) scared, b) right next door in her bedroom, c) calling from her cellphone, and d) all because of f-ing Doctor Who. Really? From Doctor Who?

Fast forward to this Christmas and the cheap sale for the Clockwork Man action figure. Dave was tempted to put it in her bed - but didn't. Instead we called her into our room one night after we had gone to bed, and she and Shelby were coming back from a friend's house. Upon seeing it, she let loose with a litany of words that would make any sailor proud.

- Jill

Then and Now

2011-02-03T09:26:00.000-05:00

Dave and I have taken the kind of self-portraits that make "real" photographers cringe. The kind where you hold out your arms and hope for the best. We take them everywhere: home, Ohio, London, sporting events, on trains, in a hotel room. Everywhere. Erika made it her goal to get a photo of us for Mom's calendar that wasn't a photo like this. She got it, and it was very nice . . . but I still like the kind where we mush our cheeks close together, smile, and still hope for the best.

The one on the left was taken when we were 21. I had thrown out my back for the first time, but I had a project due for a sociology course that detailed a historic place that was in need of help. My choice was a beautiful covered bridge in Oxford, but there was no way that I could traverse the fence and snap a few photos. Dave volunteered to get up early (he was working third shift at a hotel doing their books) and do it for me. When he got back, we had left over film and started taking photos of anything to get the film used up. This is my favorite shot of the day . . . because it's us. We were dirt poor with no clue how we were going to provide for our kids. The Girls had a Medicaid card for their insurance, and we had food stamps and WIC. I'm pretty sure that we were getting by on a wing and a prayer . . . plus a lot of help from our parents when it came to the Girls since I was in my last year as a college student.

Fast forward 20 years. Life has a funny way of working out for you. The Girls are the ones in college now. Dave is still in the hotel business but in a vastly different capacity. Me? I haven't thought about that bridge in Ohio in ages. But I have a beautiful print of it in our basement, one that Dave bought for more money than he had a right to, when we were dirt poor . . . all because I liked it.

I grabbed him on his way to work and asked for one quick photo, for the Now portion. Love you, Dave!

- Jill

"How They Look"

2011-02-02T14:50:00.002-05:00

I woke up to the second call from our Superintendent. Someone should tell her to speak gently during her recorded messages. No one likes to be barked at over the phone at 7:20 a.m. Truth be told, the winds kept me up most of the night. It was time to repeat yesterday. Shuffle to the coffee maker. Make sure the tree is still upright. Close the boys room & be as quiet as possible. Check emails. "Joy of Love" prompt: Show how your loved ones look. Easy. I'm going to be with them all day. Again. I wanted to find some way to creatively capture them, but being stuck inside for two straight days zaps that juice.

Want to see what my loved ones look like first thing in the morning? On the second snow day? In the same clothing as yesterday? While eating cereal with bedhead? Right before being taken down with a wrestling move? And being so loving that it makes your heartache? I thought so.

It doesn't happen often, so I'm going to linger here for a while.

2:28 the Joy of Love

-Erika

"What they Do"

2011-02-01T15:16:00.000-05:00

Normally on a Tuesday, my loved ones would be in school and at work. I should have been in the car driving north. But after many warnings from those loved ones and meteorologists, I rescheduled. The house was stocked with goodies and we watched the news. I counted on keeping my youngest home from daycare and figured we'd walked Cooper to school in the morning. When we said "Good-night" the weather was still calm. Sometime after 11:15 p.m. and before 6:30 a.m., a sheet of ice blanketed the city. The phone rang & the Superintendent's voice blared in my groggy ear, "There will be no school today." Getting a snow day as an adult is just as exciting as getting one as a kid. I couldn't go back to sleep, so I rolled out of bed and shuffled towards the coffee machine. I watched the dog bust her ass on the lawn as she tried to catch a squirrel. And flipped on the news. I guessed Mark was going to call it a snow day too after only a few minutes of updates.

Today's prompt for the Joy of Love was to focus on what your loved ones do. Today is different only because it's Tuesday. It seems like an exaggerated weekend: a hyped of version of a Sunday. I hate falling on ice, so outside play wasn't going to happen. I've gotten through 3 loads of laundry & Mark has chipped away two thick layers of ice on our cars. The boys are enjoying too much screen time. Cooper is playing demos on PS3 that are way too advanced for him, but he tries. And we've allowed it today. He's finished his homework for the week and colored more than enough pages to allow some video game time. Becket watches him out of the corner of his eye and keeps the other one on his Lego car. He's also walking around with one sandal on. Last night, he found it in the back of his closet and slept with it. We can't find its partner, but it doesn't bother him. It's also on the wrong foot. I've tried to change feet a dozen times, but he won't have it. These are my loved ones today. Zoning out. Defiant. Silly. Laughing. Building Lego trucks. Chipping at ice while knowing that this is only round one. Folding laundry with two more loads piling up next to them. It's what we do when we're together. We're living.

-Erika

1:52

2011-01-31T08:33:00.001-05:00

I decided that with my 52 Weeks of No Color, I'd add one more rule. I must be grateful for something in the image. That won't be too hard. Since I've talked endlessly about how I have to stalk my B&W images, the idea of love is already in my head when I release the shutter. This does not mean I'm wax poetically about my loved ones. I'm sure some days it will be my gratitude for the light or happiness for a trinket. But I will be grateful for something in my B&W photo.

{1:52}

Sunday, we went sledding with some friends. It was the first time for the boys & the first time I had been in years. I was worried about Cooper, but he hopped on with me & laughed the entire trip. Becks? He didn't like the snow. Didn't like the cold. Didn't like the slight breeze. Hated the sled. But we kept taking turns on the sled. I'd fly down the hill watching an angry Becks get smaller & smaller. About a half-hour into it, something clicked. He jumped on the sled by himself, let us push him off, & he smiled the entire trip down. With that 5 second ride, our trip sweetened.

When we told the boys it was time to go, they didn't put up a fight it. Up & down hills will make a kid happy to leave. Coop took a break by laying down. When Becks saw this, he clomped over & took a break on Coop. He rested his head & smiled. Cooper just let him be. That mini-rest tangled up in love is what I'm grateful for this week.

-Erika

p.s. As stated, I will be deleting "A Week of No Color" Flickr group later today!

The Title Eludes Me

2011-01-27T21:43:00.000-05:00

Sometimes, I come up with the title for a post well before I write the damn thing. Other times it comes from part of the post. There was a time when they were just the titles of songs in my iTunes library, which was as easy as pressing play. Truthfully, it was pretty easy, but often times the titles were very confusing if you tried to relate them to the post. But tonight's title just isn't coming to me. Everything seems off.

Everything about this time of year is off. The holidays are done (thankfully), but people are always bitching about the extra pounds. My head is usually thumping from weather related migraines. The students are "rammy," which I think should be a real word. This year's even worse because a colleague died suddenly yesterday morning.

But it's always a depressing time for our family, no matter who you talk to.

Thirty-eight years ago, my brother died. It was an accident, it happened, and it kind of fucks you up in ways that you don't realize as a toddler (I was three) or as a kid or as a teenager. You only realize that as an adult; I finally realized it last year. I've blogged about it numerous times, so I won't go into it again. But it still sucks balls.

So, what's with the broken bank, you might be asking. It was a bank that belonged to Clark, and for some reason, my mom gave it to me when the Girls were little. I kept it in their room even though it didn't go with the theme that I had. I moved it from apartment to apartment, from cribs to twin beds to bunk beds. And guess what? I hated the damn bank. Hated it.

But one summer day, when the Girls were about five, maybe six, they wanted an ice cream cone from the corner shop, and I had no money in the house. The piggy bank, however, had money . . . and god was it hot. I slipped a butter knife and wiggled out a quarter and then a second one. The butter knife went back in to finagle the final two, but I must have thrust too hard, and I shattered the damn thing.

It took a while to sink in that I broke a bank I hated and crying about it, only because it was my brother's bank. And I still didn't know why I had the damn bank in the first place. The Girls got their ice cream after the crying subsided, and I left the bank on the top of my dresser. And then it migrated to the underwear drawer where it rested for years and years and years. Occasionally, the broken glass snagged a pair of undies. More than once I cut my hand looking for something in the back of the drawer. Last year, Dave found me crying when I was changing the drawers around, and I told him that some stupid reason, I couldn't throw the fucking thing away. Dave, in his infinite wisdom said, "You don't have to throw it away. But at least wrap it up in something, so you stop cutting yourself . . . because that sucks."

And he's right . . . it does suck.

- Jill

A week without color

2011-01-22T15:33:00.001-05:00

I've been dreaming of a of"Black & White" week for a long time. Monochromatic photos move me more than any other type of photo. Probably because they're stripped down to the basics. Anything that might cause you to be distracted is removed and the emotion is the main attraction. But this little quality is also what stops me from doing more conversions. I question myself more. Is the photo worthy? Does it still translate? Am I forcing the emotion?

For me, I know right away if a photo demands to be converted. Extreme sadness bawls for Black & White. I still can't look at this photo & not start to cry.

Joy & laughter bubbles up until you must erase its color tones.

The ordinary can be whipped into glamorous with a few clicks of a mouse.

And in a pinch a photo with high noise & blur can be saved by converting it to Black & White.

But I think a lot of people struggle with going colorless. I know I do. I'd like to get over my conversion insecurities & convert with confidence! And to do that, I need a week to practice.

If you're bored with color or want some practice, suck out all your color too! Join the group! From Monday (1/24) to Friday, I'll be shooting at least one photo to be converted into some form of Black & White. I don't save a bunch of photos, so I will have to photograph specifically for this project. I'll think of it as practice & motivation. Digging into the archives isn't going to help me. But I won't call the B&W police if others decide to flip through their past (Cheaters. I'm joking. Sort of...) Each day, I'll submit at least one to the Week of No Color Flickr pool. Shoot for emotions. Shoot to create something glamours. Each day, I'll feature the best of the best on my Facebook page with a public pat on the back (we could also use more pats on the back). Rules do apply: Take at least one photo a day to be convert into a Black & White, Sepia, duotone, etc. No color. No bits of color. Nothing! If you post to the group, I might link to your photo. What's the harm in that, really? "Like" the page for updates. And most of all, take off your rose-colored glasses because we're about to go monochromatic!

-Erika

p.s. I'll delete the group on Saturday. That way you won't have a random dead group hanging out in your Group list. I hate that. I'm too lazy to clean my groups. So I should be mad at myself & not the group's creator. I'll do that after the B&W week.

Who am I kidding, I won't.

A Closet Of My Own

2011-01-18T15:11:00.001-05:00

When we bought our house 11 years ago, we were undaunted by the fact that it only has two-and-a-half closets. I figured that this would be our "starter" house, and we'd buy a larger one that had walk-in closets with room for my ever burgeoning shoe collection. Funny thing happened . . . we never moved. Turns out we kind of liked living "in town," close to my job and the highway for Dave's commute. Over the years, however, the closet became a sticky point for the Girls and me. We had to share, which kind of sucks for three women.

When they left for college, the closet situation didn’t get any better. There were shoes everywhere, blouses that didn’t fit my figure, pants that might have been fashionable seven years ago but never would be again, and clothes that were a hold-over from my college days in the early ‘90s.The blouses were the absolute worst. I’ve never been able to find the perfect white blouse to fit my figure. If I bought a blouse to fit my boobs, I looked about six months pregnant with all the excess fabric flowing around my stomach. If I got them to fit my waist, I looked like I was auditioning for an adult film. It might be attractive on some people, but I teach middle school. But yet, I still bought white blouse after white blouse expecting a different outcome. I would shove the blouses into my closet only to realize that I already had two versions of the same damn thing in there. What the hell was my problem?

A good friend of mine purged all the jeans in her closet and gave them to me. "I don't care what you do with them . . . I just can't give them to Good Will," she said. I went through the pile and found a duplicate of my absolute favorite jeans. The rest went off to Good Will. And I promptly went through my closet and loaded up her bag with all my blouses because there was a shred of a possibility that they would fit her. Same speech, most likely the same outcome . . . but it got me thinking.

What did I really need in this closet? Turns out just the items I selected for the first phase of Project 333. I've run into a couple of bumps, but I guess that is normal. Part of this process is using what I have; a bigger process, however, is figuring out who I am. I don't need to wear the trendy clothing, so why even bother buying it. I only wear clothing that makes me comfortable and looks good on me. I wear a lot of neutrals . . . but always with pops of color.

- Jill, wearing comfy blue jeans, a white t-shirt, gray swing cardigan, and a hand-knit red silk scarf

Year 2

2011-01-14T11:02:00.002-05:00

With your first kid, you tend to focus on the Firsts for that child. First tooth. First time eating cereal. First friend. First steps. First time sitting on the potty. There are tons of Firsts that are celebrated, recorded & cherished. The second child also has the same Firsts. I've learned that they aren't recorded as often, but they are celebrated all the same. But I've discovered that the second kid (more important, the last kid) gets a category that the first kid will never get. He gets Lasts. And it isn't about him. It's more about the parent. It's the Last time we get to witness certain aspects of childhood. I'm sure that the Lasts could get sad & sappy, but I'm not looking at it that way. The Last category is about the slow climb towards independence & growth. And isn't that the goal of parenting? Last nursing jag. Last diaper changed (God willing it will happen). Last night in a crib. Last high chair meal. Last time doing a bunch of baby things. This will be the last time you get to see me as a mother to a two-year-old.

And this will be the last time you get to see my two year-old son. He's looking forward to three. We all are because it's going to be full exciting Firsts & Lasts for the entire house.

-Erika

Here's his year 2 in pictures!

Post & run.

2011-01-13T13:34:00.002-05:00

I can't get this post out of my head.

I've had an empty Moleskin in my bag since Christmas for this very purpose.

I guess I should crack it open & start writing.

-Erika
p.s. Sorry no pics.

Holding myself accountable & adding to 2011 List already.

21. Fill my Journal on a regular basis.

That Last, Tangible Reminder

2011-01-12T21:10:00.000-05:00

Ever since I can remember, I've been in love with England. I'm not sure how it happened or why, but I'm pretty sure that I'm not alone in my fascination. It got really bad when Lady Di married Prince Charles, culminating with me getting the obligatory "Di 'Do" and getting up at an unimaginably early hour to watch the fairytale unfold. It returned with a vengeance when Bridget and Shannon received orders to an airbase in England. Finally . . . an excuse to visit the country I adopted as mine.

Nothing really prepared me for that first trip. Sure, I thought I had everything under control by reading every conceivable travel book. Hell, I had some itineraries memorized for that trip, but it was the goofs that are the best part. Asking for cheese in Cambridge and finding a gem of a cheese shop. Getting caught in the rain with the Girls in the park. Missing a train to Scotland and then watching the Girls charm a more seasoned traveler.

On the subsequent trips back, we found new places to explore, new things to savor, new favorites to file away. Dave and I stumbled upon Charbonnel et Walker when we were looking for another sweet shop; one look in the window at these tiny, pink boxes sold me . . . one taste kept me going back. The last trip to London was in 2007, and the chocolates lasted about a week after we got home. See, the problem was we always went back to London, even after Bridget moved to Omaha so I figured it wouldn't be too long before I got that pink fix. But then saving for college and reduced travel and budgets got in the way, and we haven't been back.

I opened up my last Christmas present this year, and I burst into tears when I saw the top of the box. The lettering hasn't changed nor has the slightly showing gilt-paper. It's not that I'm selfish, but I didn't open the first box until the 27th and then I didn't share a whole lot (so maybe I am a little selfish). Part of me thought that if I left the chocolates inside their pink home, I could make them last a year. The other part - the more rational part - knew that I wouldn't stop eating them. I ate the last one today, savored the final, sweet bite . . . and pretended I was in London.

- Jill

Snow Day #1

2011-01-07T11:55:00.000-05:00

Teachers have this bizarre love/hate relationship with snow. Honestly, I've never seen another group of people more addicted to weather channels. Some swear by X while others will go out of their way to discredit X by providing spreadsheet data showing how Y was correct 90% of the time. Personally, I think my relationship is a little more hate/love. Don't get me wrong . . . I love being off of school. I'm sitting here in my PJs, drinking another cup of coffee (which may or may not have a little Bailey's in it), watching The People's Court. But I know that this is one day more in June that I will be sweating my fucking ass off, attempting to get the point across that punctuation still matters and that grammar is important not matter where you are. So, yes, snow days are awesome until June rolls around, and you're left wondering if make-up will really be a good idea (note: it won't because the sweat will be pouring out of your pores).

A closet of its own

Part of Project 333 is taking a photo of your daily outfit, which is something that I am really sucking at. By the time I get home from work, I really don't feel like trying to look all spiffy and snazzy for a selfie. I'll have to figure out something because those self-portraits just aren't happening. Yesterday was the first day that things went a little pear shaped. I wanted to wear my green cardi but realized that I didn't have a white cami clean. Couple that with getting dressed by the light of my cellphone and you get a recipe for disaster. Long (and truly boring) story short, I dressed up kind of nunlike in all black and put on a winter coat. If you know me, that last bit about wearing a coat is truly remarkable since I will go out in just about any kind of weather without one. I always thought they were more trouble then they were worth, but yesterday it was a necessary evil. And you know what? It felt kind of nice to have one.

A few people at school have said that they wish they could do Project 333 whenever I talk about it. My first reaction is always, "Why can't you?" The reasons are ones that I've given in the past when I thought about getting rid of clothes:

I really liked that pair of pants then they fit . . . maybe one day they will again (And they probably won't be in fashion . . . trust me)
It's too much work to go through all those clothes (It does take a lot of work, but so does cramming all that shit in your closet)
But I remember exactly when I bought that (I only have this reaction to two articles of clothing and I would never, ever get rid of them)
I might need more than 33 pieces of clothing (You might . . . but you'll never know if you don't try)

So far, so good. But I know I have to plan better. It might mean setting out the clothing I'm planning on wearing for the week on Sunday evening or just the night before. I know I need to get rid of two of the shirts I have. One is so old that it isn't black any more. The other is too trendy for me to even think about keeping around. I think I'll hit my old stand by (Old Navy) and pick up a black shirt and a colored shirt . . . but nothing more. Not a snazzy cardi, not a cheap pair of shoes. Nothing.
- Jill

List for 2011.

2011-01-06T23:28:00.003-05:00

Just because I love the colors. Has nothing to do with the post. Sorry.

I'm not big on making New Year's resolutions. Not because I'm afraid of breaking them. I could really give a fuck. Not because I don't think I could. I know I could if I really wanted to. I'm stubborn. But because it would require insight & preparation. I don't think I'm any good with that skill. Yes, I have a pantry. If we lost power again for a week, we'd have a good diet of chickpeas, rice, tomatoes, & oatmeal. But we'd have no toilet paper. And I'd probably start my period, so I'd have no tampons. And my cell phone would be dead. But I do love the idea of resolutions. You get to begin again. Start over. Be the better you. The You that you really wanted to be the previous year, but gave up on in March. I feel bad for March. I believe that every March rolls around & people sort of wake up thinking, "WTF was I thinking for the past two months?" And they go back to the original version. The perfectly fine version.

Last year, I knew our lives were going to change in 2010. I knew this was the year that things would get tossed around. Cooper was going to start Kindergarten & we'd have two kids in two different places. Cooper is not one for change, so I knew it wouldn't be easy. I might have told people I was hoping for the best, but I knew that the best wasn't going to happen. No resolutions needed for 2010. Life would be different without trying. And it was. It wasn't easy. But we're in a schedule now. We're in the groove. And our 2011 doesn't have any foreseen changes. That doesn't mean nuttiness or life-changing crap won't happen. It totally could & will. Maybe the vasectomy didn't work & I get pregnant (god help us all). Sickness could attack our house. Cars could breakdown forever. Work could stay insanely busy. But I don't see anything that needs a plan of attack. So why not create some goals for spice? Why not?

1. Take a class. Any class. Cooking, photography, knitting, yoga, backgammon.
2. Take a photography class. I'm making sure.
3. Get a passport & get my ass out of this county. For a break. Not for good.
4. Do my regular doc visits. Just because I don't need b.c, doesn't mean I should ignore my Lady Parts.
5. Play skee-ball. I saw this on another blogger's list & instantly wanted to roll.
6. Floss & moisturize more.
7. Print something really big. Much larger than 8x10.
8. Go on a trip with my husband. No boys. Just him. The grocery doesn't count.
9. Read more fiction.
10. Cook my way through a cookbook. Current selection in the queue.
11. Attend a concert. Anything counts. I have low standards. Don't ask how many times I've seen boy bands.
12. Write for someone else. Craiglist not excluded.
13. Sell off my yarn. If I'm not knitting, I'm sitting on hundreds of dollars. Hundreds, people.
14. Get a new hair-cut. Which means growing, so that takes time.
15. Camping with the boys.
16. Finish one big knit project. I have too many on my needles. It's sort of gross.
17. Eat more sushi.
18. Spot someone famous. Don't judge. It's fun to see someone & think "Wow. He's taller." or "Hmm. Looks the same."
19. Watch the current season of Dexter. I vowed I wouldn't, but I'd like to.
20. Add more to this list whenever I feel like it.

That's a good starting point. I must be able to finish a few of those. Right?

-Erika

Call It What You Will

2011-01-06T00:00:00.001-05:00

epiphany (noun) - 1. the manifestation of a supernatural or divine reality; 2. any moment of great or sudden revelation; 3. Oh, crap.

Shelby and Jordan, Christmas 2010, who posed like that

So, you're 20, pregnant, and the Christmas holidays have just passed. You didn't have any money to buy both presents for your family and presents for the other half of your "dynamic duo." The holidays were kind of crappy because, well, you're pregnant and apparently huge according to anyone with an opinion. So you eat a few more cookies.

At your next doctor's visit on January 6, a nurse filled in all the information and told you that your weight gain was a whopping seven pounds. She even congratulates you on taking it easy on the cookies during a stressful eating period. But you know better . . . she subtracted wrong. It won't be long until she realizes her mistake; that was 17 pounds. So much for taking it easy

Seventeen pounds turns out to be a lot when you are pregnant. It sets off all sorts of warning bells and worried looks. And in twenty minutes, your life takes an even more bizarre turn. Seventeen pounds was an epiphany in every sense of the word. Twins: the manifestation of a divine reality; a moment of great revelation; oh, crap.

I count very few days during the year as truly special, but January 6 is one of those days. We never really celebrated the Epiphany in our house, but usually, it signified the end of the Christmas season. Mom had us take down the lights and the decorations, and we gave the Christmas carols one last hurrah before they were packed away for a ten months. Now, it reminds me all over again that sometimes things do work out but not without a lot of hard work and risk on your part. It makes me sit up and take notice about the world around me, especially how proud I am of my daughters because they were worth a lot of hard work and risk on my part. It puts a smile on my face knowing that I got something right.

- Jill

I'm a sucker

2011-01-02T17:11:00.000-05:00

I sat with my 365 ending. I wallowed in it. I cheered for it. I cried too many times at the video. I watched my baby turn into a boy (even a tiny one). I watched Cooper walk off to Kindergarten. I watched those painful two weeks flash by with some catchy music. I saw the happy moments & I watched our growth. I celebrated the end of the year. And I vowed to not do another 365.

But then I started saying, "Not right away at least."

On 1/1, I watched person after person take the same journey. I felt excited for them. I understand the caution & the worry. But above everything else, I know the joy & satisfaction a completed or even half-completed project will bring. Above are some of my favorite Flickr people & they are about to walk the long road of 365. And all of sudden, I want to come along.

Why the hell not?

I'm tagging along for a couple reasons. One, I'm lazy. Without kids, I'd be on the couch flipping between the Food Network & some horrible reality show. Before kids, I had been known to buy more underwear instead of doing laundry. I had also been know to turn them inside out, but I think that was in middle school when I didn't really understand hygiene. The 365 gave me a reason to keep pursuing photography. And I'm afraid that I still might need a reason to get off my ass & shoot something. Two, peer pressure gets me. If all these women are jumping off a bridge, so will I. One of them will break my fall. Three, I loved our year. I loved watching it flash before me. I loved watching & appreciating every single day. Call me cocky, but I thought it was gorgeous. I won't scrapbook. I won't dust of the video camera. I never filled out baby books. But I will work really hard to capture every exciting & boring moment of our lives. Go on & circle back to reason number one... Because if I don't have a project, I won't do that.

Starting on 1.11.11, I'll start 365 Part 2. Same goal, capture our lives as authentically as possible. But this time, if something begs to be black & white, it will be. And if I miss a day, I will without guilt. I'm going to use this week to figure out if I want to tack on some goals. I figured by the time 1.11.11 gets here, I'll be refreshed & ready to go. I need a little Internet break anyways. So I'll go & get ready. I eat right again. Sleep. Maybe even shave my legs. But I want to play the 365 game again. If you ladies don't mind a straggler, I'm coming.

-Erika

But I Want Shoes That Will Work My Abs**

2011-01-01T07:00:00.022-05:00

Yesterday, Dave commented, "You know, your sister has been posting like crazy these days," so I explained to him that Erika was finishing up her 365 run and I wasn't posting during that time. Last night we watched the video that she put up, and I got a little teary eyed watching Becks grow up right in front of my eyes. Sure, I have photos of the Girls through the years, and they did age from photo to photo, but it was much more powerful to view that all in one sitting.

Christmas: Merry, Happy, Done from Jill Greenwood on Vimeo.

Christmas has come and gone (and I'm a little thankful for that to tell you the truth), and now the new year - 2011 - is upon us. Most people make resolutions, things that are supposed to make them better or smarter or healthier. Me? Not so much. Sure, I plan on using the treadmill more . . . but the heater looks so nice sitting there on it. And I really plan on cooking more for Dave and me . . . but sometimes it really is cheaper to run to Panera Bread. Resolutions? Whatever. But projects? I'm your girl for a good project or two or three.

Project 333 fits the bill quite nicely. It's been about three years now that I've noticed I wear the same five or six sweaters all school year long and rotate in the same couple of pants throughout the school year. Hell, I was giddy - seriously laughing out loud - when a friend gave me a pair of jeans she didn't like because they were the same, exact pair that I loved and adored. I've read Beverly's blog for years now and was inspired by her success (she's very inspirational . . . go check her out). And so, after finding pink tank after pink tank after pink tank with the same blue, ink-like stains fresh out of the wash, I decided that something had to give. Seriously, how many pink tanks does one girl need? Apparently, five.

The Cast-Offs

I pulled all of my clothing out of the closet and drawers and settled on 33 items to take me through the next three months. Here is that list:

gray Old Navy work pants
gray Daisy Fuentes Kohls work pants
black Apartment 9 work pants
black Daisy Fuentes work pants
Mossimo jeans (the ones from my friend, Marijo)
Old Navy jeans
red Lane Bryant pullover sweater
green Old Navy cable cardigan
black Old Navy party cardi cardigan
gray Old Navy swing cardigan
ivory Old Navy swing cardigan
ivory Old Navy thin pullover
teal Old Navy cardigan
~~black Macy's swing cardigan~~ black Old Navy boat neck sweater I live in this thing on the weekends
white Old Navy long sleeve t-shirt
white JCPenny's long sleeve t-shirt
black Apartment 9 Kohls wrap 3/4 shirt
black Lane Bryant 3/4 t-shirt
gray and black striped Old Navy t-shirt
two white Lane Bryant camis
hot pink Lane Bryant cami
purple Lane Bryant cami
black Elf Clarks
black Mary Jane Keens
red Ecco pumps
UGG alikes (and they are so old that they are rank and smell of death)
ivory Old Navy winter coat
teal pashmina
London pashmina
Chamila bracelet*
charm necklace*
black belt

So . . . I shop at Old Navy a lot. And I like cardigans. I also like The Cardigans, but that's a post for another day. At this point, half of my excess clothing is in a clear box and the other half is on the Girls' bed waiting for another clear box so it has a happy home for the next three months as well, including two Burberry scarves, a pair of Fluevog sandals that I've only worn once, and about 30 Vera Bradley purses (might have a problem with that).

I love them . . . but they hurt like a son of a bitch

I am bending a few rules and only a few. Hand knit items are off the table. Period. Full stop. Anything that I happen to finish, like a sweater or socks or a sweater or a hat or a sweater, are fair game, and I'm not budging from that. Besides, if I happen to actually finish something, then I've made a dent in my ever expanding yarn stash. Also, any jewelry that Dave has given me won't be put away. There aren't many pieces (a few necklaces, two bracelets, a ring or two), but I can't choose . . . so I won't.

So, project number one is underway . . . but I'm pretty sure that there are more to come. There always are.

-Jill

* My Chamilia bracelet and charm necklace have many, many charms and parts. Again, I'm okay with that.
** Title courtesy of Dave, who after learning that his new Avia sneakers were really working his calves, made me smile with this gem

365:365

2010-12-31T17:28:00.000-05:00

I've said enough about my 365 experience, so I'll leave you with the images (set).

365:365 from Erika Ray on Vimeo.

Happy New Year!

What ya got, 2011?
-Erika

Part 2 of 365 Wrap up 9:10

2010-12-30T10:19:00.019-05:00

All pictures were chosen today because they work with the themes below.

Drum roll cause it's almost over with this post (2 more pictures)...

Part 2

{81:365}

The second thing I really underestimated about a 365: it was life changing. My best and favorite photos were snippets of our life: ordinary moments that occur every single day. Usually they're left uncelebrated & unappreciated. But we do them again & again. I realize now that my life is just a series of moments strung together. Photography made me stop & look at them. It made me highlight their beauty. And when you are highlighting the beauty of found toys & a dirty pile of clothes, your life becomes full of opportunity to discover magic. This is where I need to walk a fine line. There are tons of bloggers that write beautifully & craft gorgeous photos their lives. You're certain that their children never fight over toys, have never eaten something from a package, they've never snapped at their spouses, & they've never heard "You're a meanie." (note: I heard "Meanie" three times yesterday) I quit reading those blogs & I never want to create those types of feelings. Please don’t think that I walked around my house saying: Look at that gorgeous pile of filthy dishes. I’m going to wait & see just how beautiful mold will look in the morning sun. Oh, look at that poo-stained piece of underwear. Why should I teach my child how to wipe properly when he creates ART with every shit?! We have the same bad days, the same arguments, the same whining, all the same shit that drives a family insane from moment to moment. But photography interrupted those crap moments with a shimmer of gorgeousness. Sometimes I was able to stop & appreciate. Other times I was filled with too much anger & annoyance to care.

{172:365}

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I would almost venture to say that 2010 was as life changing as the year I had my first son. This might be difficult for some to sallow. He's your baby for god's sake & this is a couple of photos! I hear it. I do. But go with me. 365 was a life change that I decided to control. Every day, I was the one that made a choice for myself. I let photography turn from a hobby into a passion. When we decided to start a family that was the last bit of control I had with that life changing decision. I'm not a control-freak, but everyone likes to feel like they have a pinkie on life's steering wheel. After the decision to go off birth control, everything else was sort of like a sucker punch. If that's too negative for some: a surprise hug from a stranger. I like the sucker punch though. Your life is going to change whether you want it to or not and children teach that you cannot control your life in the ways you’re used to. That old type of control only means disappointment & added stress. When you become a mother things cease to be about you & rightfully so. Your life has to change in order for you to survive & nurture your children. You begin the long journey towards becoming someone else & sometimes that can be at the expense of your self. Many think selflessness is the way to be a good mother. I’ve never felt that way, but somewhere along the way I got lost. And during the 365, I started see a glimpse of that old woman again. A very wise & good friend said something that stuck with me. I’ll paraphrase because it wasn’t necessarily about women, but it runs along side my ramble. Before kids were were these fun/cool people, why wouldn’t we want to be those same people. Kids can take something. I think it’s finding a balance which I wasn’t doing a good job at achieving. And it’s about finding out who you’ve become. Mothers can inform other mothers about this change. They could say, "Trust me. You'll change with each milestone the kids encounter" But new ones won't listen. I wouldn't have seen it until now. It wasn't a huge lump or a hairy mole on my face. It was subtle. I didn't realize it until I was wrapping up the 365 & I was trying to figure out why I loved it so much. With the first kid, I would have said "I've got a handle on this. I get free time with work." Second kid, I would have said, "I've done this before..." But by the time the second didn't need me as much (start of 2010), I got space & a little time to relax. I would tell new mothers don't wait for that space to magically appear. But I'll save that advice. They won't listen because they're different...

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Up until my children were born, I knew who I was. My mother shoveled self-esteem into us like Sloppy Joe's on a Tuesday. And I ate it up. I figured it would keep me full & satisfied throughout my life. After my son was born, I realized I was changing, but I didn’t take the time to reflect on it. Birth changed me in ways that were unimaginable & my life will always be full because of my children. But the 365 made the new me/the mother me a better person. It gave me a chance to work on something that was mine. I didn’t only edit while the kids were sleeping. Daddy’s here & he knows how to read books & play games too! I got to escape into the office to edit & craft an image. I got alone time that I appreciated. Work alone time isn’t the same. Alone time in the car with a sleeping kid isn’t the same. Alone time after they're in bed isn't the same either: you're exhausted by then. Alone time with something that fuels your passion is completely different. Alone time while someone else is being responsible is luxurious & a must. If as a mother you’ve never felt like you lost yourself, great! If you knew who you were the second you changed that first diaper, I’m really happy for you. But I didn’t. And didn’t take the time to face that new person. That new person isn't brand new & fabulous. It's a version of the pre-kids woman, but I think a little softer. It's a version that wants to be a little selfish from time to time. It's a version that realizes she doesn't have to do every little thing. This version will still bitch about doing every little thing & will prance around in the martyr sash whenever she wants. This version doesn't focus on the doom & gloom that sometimes seems to swirl around the world. This version will change again when it's time.

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365 was life changing because it made me see the beauty this world offers. It reintroduced a confidence that I forgot existed within me. It made me branch out & try different techniques. It made me reach out for help. It made me appreciate friendship. The end of college & directly after is when I made some of my closest friends. I thought friend-making days were behind me. I didn’t try or care to add more to that group. The 365 helped me create stronger connections to current friends & helped me find friends online that I desperately wish lived closer. It gave me a chance to be less critical. It gave me freedom. It gave me something that was mine. It gave me pride. It gave me an awareness not based in fear. It gave me all the other cliche crap associated with life-changing events.

I don’t believe that a 365 is the answer to life’s problems. I don’t think that everyone will have the same results. I don't think it's perfect for mothers. I don't think every mother will say, "Oh yeah. That's is me" at the finish. I don’t think everyone who picks up a camera will feel its impact. We all have something that will drive us & will enrich our lives. For some it’s a good book & for some it’s a 365 project. We just have to find it. And we must find it for our families and for ourselves. I'm looking forward to a break with the picture a day business. I'm guessing I'll still take at least one, but it will be because I want to not because I have to. I have no idea what 2011 will hold. Will it be as life changing as 2010? Who knows, but it will be different. I’ll have a whole new string of moments to appreciate & loathe. If I could revisit that afternoon in late 2009 & hear that woman ask, “Is this it? Is this what life is going to be like?” I’d answer that woman confidently with a smile & a pat on the ass, “Hell, yes it is! Keep juggling, bitch. And go do it with flare!”

-Erika

Part 1 of 365 Wrap up & 8:10

2010-12-29T13:00:00.003-05:00


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{This truly shows the power of processing. Prior to taking the photo, this is exactly what my eye saw. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't capture all of warmth or glow. Processing helped.}

I figured I'd break up my 365 revelation into two parts & post prior to 1/1. I'm not sure how much time I'll have once Friday arrives. And who wants to read someone's ramblings this close to the New Year? I don't... I want to be celebrating!

Part One, people.

When I started questioning a 365 for 2010, people voiced their opinions loudly.
Do it! It was life changing!: were the themes of these comments. How difficult could a picture a day be? Life-changing? Seriously, it’s a picture, people?: ran through my head. By the end of 2010, I can honestly say that I was wrong. The 365 was hard & it was life changing.

In late 2009, I remember standing in the kitchen making pb&j sandwiches. And I thought: Is this it? Is this what life is going to be like? I didn’t question it as if my next move was going to be an escape to Mexico under an alias. I just questioned it like I had pondered other moments in my life. Was my reality living up to the view I had constructed in my mind before the incident had happened? It never does because it's impossible for that to happen. My first pondered moment was in middle school after I finally worked up the nerve to shave my legs. I figured it would propel me into some other level of adolescence. I’d emerge fuzz-free & almost a woman. A few days later I realized I was still Erika only with shinier pasty legs. I walked around with nicked knees & my mother’s voice in my head, “Why start now? Once you start, you’re always shaving.” Damn, she was right. Years later, I stood in my kitchen feeling the same way. I was fixing lunches with a load of laundry just out of eyesight. Kids were hungry, again, dishes were piling up, and I had work to do. I felt like I was always going to be juggling different balls while walking down a long tunnel. Believe it or not, I wasn’t depressed. I didn’t want to sell my children at the Farmer’s Market & I didn't regret having children. I have children that are not close in age, so I realized things don’t get easier when they’re potty-trained. Someone throws a new ball into the mix. On that day, I just felt like I was juggling and walking through life. And I couldn’t see how things would ever get easier or slow down.

I decided to start 2010 off with a project. Not because of that moment in the kitchen. Honestly that moment never crossed my mind when I jumped into the 365. I really wanted to use my 365 project as a way to remember our year. I didn’t want to become a better photographer. I didn’t want to discover new things. I just wanted to take one picture a day that would jog my memory in the future. I proved myself wrong. In a huge way…

With my 365, I discovered that I am a photographer. In 2009, I was uncomfortable with the P word. It took forever for me to breakaway from the title “I Just Like To Take Pictures.” It doesn't help that people think your photos are only great because your camera isn't a Point n' Shoot. I've had people say that to me & I've heard countless other photographers discuss the sting of this statement. I was slowly emerging from the curse of a good camera. But no one was asking me to take their picture, so how good could the photos actually be? I loved them because they focused on my most cherished moments. I loved them because they smacked me in the heart. There's doubt if anyone else will feel the same emotion. But by the time I began the 365, I was starting to realize that I was just plain good at something & I didn't need other people asking for photos for me to see that. I did have a new obstacle in 2010 which was my hang-up of processing. I spent a good portion of 2010 thinking that my photos were only good because I edited with Photoshop. I felt like I was a hack or a cheat because I tossed an action on a photo & tweaked some levels. Anyone with big check, good computer, & enough time could create fantastic images too. Right?

At the end of my 365, I can say that I'm completely over those myths. If I never get paid another dime for a photo, I will always tell people that I’m a photographer. Payment does not make you a photographer. Lots of payments don't make a really good photographer. I know many people that have rarely if ever been paid & they are far superior to lots of professionals. I also discovered & accepted that I have talent with composition & processing. Just because I have an expensive camera & expensive processing tools, I still have a talent that can’t be replicated by spending the same amount of money on tools & programs. Give any of the same tools & time to a stranger that lacks passion or an eye. That stranger won’t be able to do what I can do. I have also grown enough that I have confidence in making that statement. Look at my stuff & say you hate it or it isn’t that good. I’ll believe you, but I won’t care. I might be wounded, but I'll use that to grow. Some might read this paragraph & think that’s rather cocky. If I wrote, “And I did it alone & I'm the best,” that would be ballsy, bitchy & cocky. I would not be able to make these statements if it weren’t for the hundreds of people that inspired me & for the core group of friends who keep pushing. For the first part of 2010, I was frightened of what people would think about my images or words. I've learned that it's perfectly fine to take a picture anywhere in public. No one will question you & you'll have gotten the shot you wanted. I’ve learned that people are supportive & nurturing. I’ve learned that a community will hold you up and make you see what you can’t. Number one, my 365 made me a photographer. It made me a better one & it made me an artist.

Part two tomorrow...

I'm also going to be reposting this on Erika Ray Photography. Probably not Part Two though. I'm still unsure of my voice on that blog. I guess that's something I should figure out in 2011 too.

7:10 (365 Countdown)

2010-12-28T18:38:00.003-05:00

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Tonight, I'm a Martyr. And I could give a shit.

2010-12-27T22:15:00.003-05:00

I try really hard to not play the martyr role. Maybe everyone around me would laugh & ask "Give up, lady. You're a martyr through & through." But I try not to. Honest. I do. But as the kids get older, it seems harder & harder to fight that character. But only as a true martyr would say: Aren't mothers created to become martyrs? Really? When the baby is placed in our arms, it comes with a little Martyrdom card hidden in the receiving blanket. Maybe some mothers find it & others are blinded by their infant's beauty. Like it or not even with the most helpful partners, I'm guessing that all mothers take on more. The balance in a house with children is never quite level. We do the shit jobs. We rush when called. We just do more because we can't fight it. And eventually all good women can't help but feel like we do it without a thank you. Maybe I'm relishing in my martyrdom today & I'm the only one that rushes or picks up shit. Maybe I'm the only one that would like a hardy "Thank You" from all parties. If I am, let me wallow. Let me be a martyr for a day so I can get it out of my system.

Today, I was lazy & didn't make or plan a full meal. But I also didn't serve them cereal. We've had cereal a lot lately because of sickness. They could not have cereal one more day. So I made grilled cheese. They both ate their sides but shoved the sandwich out of sight. "Eww" was the collective groan at my table tonight. I'm tired. There's laundry to be done. There's dishes to be washed. I made dinner & you say "Eww"? Are you kidding me? As each boy left the table disgusted with dinner, I sat among the untouched plates. I made dinner. I made dinner again that wasn't eaten. Again! It wasn't lentils or tofu which I've done & won't apologize for because sometimes they eat it. It was grilled cheese. GRILLED MOTHER FUCKING CHEESE! I scrapped it in the trash. Did the dishes. Settled fights. Covered up kids for the second time. Folded laundry. Made a side dish that actually made me say a genuine "Eww". And wrote a Boo-Hoo post. Tonight, I could give a shit if I play the martyr role. Tonight, I'll wear it like a badge of honor.

I'm a martyr.
Tomorrow, I'll try to not be.

-Erika

p.s.: Here's my 365 countdown picture. Fitting.

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5:10 (365 Countdown)

2010-12-26T20:02:00.000-05:00


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4:10 (365 Countdown)

2010-12-25T12:00:00.001-05:00


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Because these boys & this type of moment is the reason I wanted to do a 365. On day 119 I could have declared victory, but I continued in hopes of capturing more.

Merry Christmas.
-Erika

3:10 365 Countdown

2010-12-24T09:08:00.000-05:00

My 365 would not have been possible without my friends & family. Because I really tried to take a picture of something memorable from the day, there was a lot of interrupting moments with a camera snap. "I'll be back. I need my camera." was said in some form at least a hundred times this year. I'd like to think I was good at sneaking a shot, but I'm sure that wasn't the case. Let's be honest, only I think that there's nothing wrong with a snap during dinner & only I think the shutter clicking is quiet. I am positive this was irritating. Thank you family & friends for putting up with this annoyance.

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Merry Christmas to you & your families!
-Erika

It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas . . . Crap

2010-12-23T17:30:00.000-05:00

The season between Thanksgiving and Christmas has never been a particular favorite of mine. Everyone seems to be extremely busy, rushing around to get the perfect present or the it toy of the year. Trust me, I’ve been there multiple times with the Girls. One year, Dave and I were hell bent on getting them Furbies and enlisted Bridget to buy them. On our ride back from Temple a week ago, they shared with me that they never really like the damn things and that they smelled weird. Basically, they didn’t like them but were too afraid to say so. I wonder how many other presents they didn’t really like and feigned enthusiasm for us. As the Girls have gotten older, they supply us with a list, usually with links and sizes and specifications on what to cut if it is too much. Nine times out of ten, nothing gets cut since their gifts tend to be something like a new nose ring or underwear from Victoria’s Secret. Sometimes, though, I get a little nostalgic for the days of toys and things that made noise.

She's protecting my knitting; from whom . . . no clue

This Christmas, things are still a little sedate on the present front, but it’s also taken a turn for the mellow with the decorations, too. Weather presented an issue for the lights, so we didn’t put them up. I’ve been really busy with our local education association, so we didn’t have a tree. We have one up now . . . but the return of Olive has changed the way we decorate it. She’s only tried to eat the lights, branches, and ornaments fifty bajillion times. Keeping a can of compressed air next to the tree has been the gift that keeps on giving in our house. It seems to be the only thing she’s mildly afraid of.

If only that damn cat believed in Santa Claus or was deterred by that f-in Elf on a Shelf book, I might have a chance of making it through the season with the tree intact.

- Jill

PS - We did start a new tradition of sorts last night, but the photos will have to wait until tomorrow . . . and so will the story.

2:10 365 Countdown

2010-12-23T10:11:00.000-05:00

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laura_louise

I need to say that these days were the most surprising & the most satisfying of 2010. On these days, I met women that I only knew online. For months, I had been inspired by their images & left a few words of appreciation. With the first meeting, my work put me in Laura's hometown. She agreed meeting me at a local bar. After the ease of that meeting, I was excited to meet more of these women. My family & friends still tend to get worried about me hanging out with strangers. But I have never felt like these women were strangers & every meeting was fantastic. My 2010 was better because of these specific days.

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~*suzanne*~

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gonzomama

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{jenny.elliott}

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[ carmen ]

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Jessica Valle

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queenbeeamy

1:10 365 Countdown.

2010-12-22T14:25:00.000-05:00

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I remember taking this photo & thinking that the project was going to be easy. I caught the dog, Coop, & daddy in his jammies. It's everything that I was hoping my 365 would be. Moments that occur everyday which usually go unnoticed. But I'm actually surprised that I kept this photo. It isn't as crisp as I would have liked back then. Sharpness was something that I was obsessed with back then. Slight blur on a photo & I would have either tossed it or converted it to a Black & White. But the above good points must have won out & I'm glad they did.

-Erika

It's Coming. Can you See it? I Can!

2010-12-21T15:00:00.000-05:00

Not Christmas, silly! Everyone knows that day is coming. I'm waiting for it to get here & blow over.

But the big event is coming. I'm starting to feel it. Starting to smell it like freshly baked bread that you can't see, but you know you'll be using butter on something in about 20 minutes. The end of my 365! While I've been dreading the daily photo for about a month now, I'm getting nostalgic about the end. I'm working on a 365 movie & I ran it yesterday. With Cooper on my lap, we quickly flashed through our year. The winter went by faster than I remember. The summer was a blink. I remember the days I was sick. I remember the days that I laughed too much. I remember the days that I cried more than I should have. Cooper took turns saying, "Remember" or "Don't remember" during the slide show. I remembered everyday. And yesterday I remembered the project with a fondness & joy that won't be matched in a long time. Probably never will be.

Tomorrow, I will only have 10 photos left to snap. Part of me is superstitious & wants to put up my "365 Thoughts" post now. I'm afraid if I drop the camera, leave it in Target, the kids bathe it, or the dog shits on it, I'll be so devastated I won't be able to address my real feelings. But the other part of me feels that if I do post it, one of those things will happen. I'm not sure if I google "Clean dog shit off of camera" I'd get the answer I was looking for. A middle ground for me will be to post some favorite photos or thoughts that came with the photo. I'm not sure if I'll do it here or on the other blog, so add the other one to your Reader or check over there if you feel like reading about my year.

-Erika

Facebook Love

2010-12-16T13:12:00.002-05:00

Facebook is funny. Isn't it? I'm weird when it comes to adding people as Friends. I have two Flickr contacts that "Liked" my page. And I wrestled with adding them as Friends on Facebook. We aren't strangers. We comment regularly on each others' photos. I figure if they wanted to be Friends, they would have done it. Perhaps they have the same feelings about their Facebook as I do. I felt like my Facebook was different than Flickr or this Blog because I looked at it being more personal. How silly is that? I share my tampons pictures on this & my Flickr page! I would never do that on Facebook. Never. But I love Facebook. I have discovered more new music this year because of the site (mostly because of this pusher). I've read funny news stories that I would never have seen if it weren't for Facebook. I got my holiday addresses in record time because of a quick email. Half of those people, I've never had their email addresses prior to the Facebook age. But I also hate Facebook. I hate seeing where people are spending their days. Especially if I'm in the middle of Nowhere, I hate when I see someone is on vacation or lunch at a favorite spot. I'm happy for them, but I want to be somewhere spicy. This is going to be a crazy statement, but I hate when people get overly mushy in their status updates. My kid just threw up all over me, but I love them so much. And isn't motherhood worth it? Really? I fucking hate when my kid pukes on me. I get it. I do. Some people that just are Half-Full types. I love the quick connection, pictures, interests, news bites, & all the other junk that comes with Facebook. I even started a page for my photos. So if you Like my photography page, would you get mad if add you?

I swear that when my kid pukes on me, I won't romanticize it in an Update. I'll be pissed.

-Erika

I feel like this guy.

2010-12-12T11:43:00.000-05:00

I'm not a Christmas person. I don't try hard to be one. I don't think that I'm doom & gloom about it either. I don't care if it's over-commercialized or over-hyped. I just get lost somewhere in the hustle & bustle. I don't think about what traditions we must continue. I just do Christmas. Gifts are slowly starting to trickle in to our hiding spots. Items are being scratched off our lists. I will make sugar cookies in the shapes of Christmas. Reindeer will be slathered in frosting & Snowmen will have red hots for buttons. Santa was visited, the picture was taken, & soon it will be added to our collection of past visits. Christmas cards are stuffed into their envelopes & I'm using Facebook for good these days instead of seeing where my friends are having lunch (I hate that feature). "Have you moved? I think you've moved?" was typed a dozen times yesterday to a dozen different family members. By the last one, I thought maybe I should just do a virtual card next year. But I won't. I'll get a hard copy in the mail. With no letter. I hate letters. We'll donate to giving trees & buy some new toys for Toys for Tots. We'll root through our bins & weed out the toys that are broken or unloved. Rudoplh and Charlie Brown's Christmas have already been watched twice. Elf and Christmas Story are on the play-deck. Because we aren't traveling this year, it feels like a bit of stress has been lifted, but it also feels odd and unfamiliar. We'll celebrate this weekend with Mark's family and my family will drive over a week later. But this year, the boys will roll out of their own beds. They will have to scream for us instead of running to the tree. Mark will check if Santa visited and I will start the coffee. They will get their "Morning Of Presents" picture taken and only then will they be allowed to run towards the presents. When it's all done and the wrapping paper has been tossed and their favorite toys are opened, that's when Christmas joy will overtake me. Until then, I'll bitch about what has to be done.

-Erika

2010-12-07T10:31:00.000-05:00

I seriously almost lost my mind yesterday & this was the exact moment. If you've read Jill's previous posts, you'll understand that stress is rampant between us. I can't really figure out why either. Jill mentioned it might be the new site/business, but I doubt that. I'm trying to take it easy with that new venture. Winter photographs aren't the easiest to produce. I just wanted to get it up & toss it out into the world. I will be updating the site with a few shoots I've done in the past couple of months. But it isn't stressing me out. Work has been busy & I have had to travel quite a bit. That's probably the main culprit of my stress. Sitting in the car for hours isn't pleasant. Coming home to an empty fridge isn't satisfying. Playing catch up with every single aspect of home life can be icky & time consuming. Yesterday, it almost broke me. And there was nothing else to do but drink.

Currently, I'm handling more territory than usual. I had some time & I agreed to help out in Buffalo. I have never been able to get direct flights out of Columbus, so I had to make a choice. Fly to Newark or fly to Cleveland. I'd rather connect through hell over Newark, so Cleveland it was. Connections mean early flights. I drove to the airport at 4:15 a.m. & hoped for the best. I know that you can't count on the weather in Buffalo. I decided to avoid weather websites before my trip. There's really no point as it will change in a second. I got to Cleveland late & watched the Buffalo flight get delayed by 30 minutes & then an hour. And finally I heard, "Sorry folks. The Buffalo flight is canceled." I had two other options to get to Buffalo. As the rep was explaining these options I heard another airline rep tell a passenger that Buffalo's weather was going to be crappy (not her word) tomorrow, I decided to just go home. She got me on a noon flight & I was thrilled to get a free day at home.

Across from the customer service counter was a bar that had an inviting sign, "We have Christmas Ale!" Christmas Ale & Red Cups are my bright spots during the holiday season. Christmas Ale is like cheer in a bottle. Great Lakes added a little extra joy to this beer. After two, I'm likely to run through the streets screaming, "Merry Christmas!" After four, you might find me with antlers crashing an office party. I spoke to my customers, called a colleague, & decided it was late enough in the morning for a beer. I wanted to record this moment for my 365, so I whipped out my camera. Lined up & went to focus. Nothing. Zip. I fiddled with the menu options, but nothing seemed out of place. I detached the lens. Still stuck on the wrong focus spot. I pulled the battery out & hoped for the best. But nothing changed.

I sat & worried over my Christmas Ale. What did this mean for my 365? Was I going to only line up shots in my bottom left area of the lens? I've got 60 days left & this shit happens? I felt defeated. Even the Ale wasn't tasting as good as it should have tasted. 60 days! So I ordered another one & hoped that it was only the lens. My plan was to fly home happy & toasty. But life had one more plan. The noon flight didn't take off until 3 p.m.

I got home & tried a new lens. Same issue. The focus was locked. I was starting to become frantic. And then I looked right below my controls & saw a little "L". Hmm? That "L" stands for "Lock." Perhaps... Maybe... Click. Problem solved. Don't you hate when tiny things drive you mental? When it's the easiest fix that has alluded you for so long? With that little switch my stress began to melt away. I finished the edits on a clients' shoot. More stress slipped down the mental drain. Organized & upload the shoot. Sigh. Emailed a link to the client. Let a little more seeped out. Read "Aww. I love them" from the client. And I felt pretty good. If I only had some Christmas Ale, I'd celebrate. Maybe I'll fly back to Cleveland...

-Erika

Joining The Party A Little Late

2010-12-05T17:53:00.000-05:00

When I started reading about Reverb10 on various blogs, I didn't really understand what it was all about. But after a little bit of investigation (ahem . . . I configured Google Reader on my cellphone), I think I grasp the meaning. About an hour ago, Erika called and asked if this was a normal part of the year to feel stressed. I thought it was in response to my earlier post, but I don't think it was. So in order to feel somewhat "normal" at the end of 2010, I'm joining Reverb10 . . . and hoping to begin 2011 in good shape. Here are the first five posts:

December 1: Encapsulate the year 2010 in one word. Explain why you’re choosing that word. Now, imagine it’s one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2011 for you? My word is unbalanced. I spent most of 2010 in a very unbalanced state. The Girls had left for school, and I don't think I really knew who I was or what I wanted. For the past 18 years, the years when most people are figuring out who they are, I was their mom. Granted, I still am, but when you parent from a distance, it changes your perspective. A year from now, I'd like my word to be moving, not in the literal sense, but in the sense that I am moving forward with a lot of thing.
December 2: What do you do each day that doesn’t contribute to your writing — and can you eliminate it? Honestly, I don't really write unless it's on the blog or for samples for my students. So much of my writing is tied up in teaching others how to write that I forget I am actually a good writer. Eliminating the doubt behind that and setting up some time to actually write could help me remember that girl who craved writing assignments from Sister Mary Whatshername.
December 3: Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year. Describe it in vivid detail (texture, smells, voices, noises, colors). Jordan and I decided to head out in search of the perfect wide, open space. It was a prompt from Picture Summer, and I really didn't have any idea what I was going to do. I asked if she wanted to head to the Water Gap in search of some broad expanse of the mountains, and surprisingly, she said yes. We drove and drove and drove and took a turn up a road called National Park Road. The hard paved road turned to crunchy gravel to corrugated dirt to dirt mixed with green grass. Still, we pressed on, stopping periodically to snap a photo or two. All the while, we talked, which is something that we hadn't done much of this summer. On that day, trying to figure out if we were headed to our own version of Deliverance, I felt alive.
December 4: How did you cultivate a sense of wonder in your life this year? A lot of wonder has been in spent in self-doubt, which seems to come naturally these days. However, I find that I never, ever tire of learning. Something piques my interest? I'll spend hours reading all about it. Watch movies on it. Find patterns that reflect it. I guess you can't turn off the student in me any easier than it is to turn off the English teacher.
December 5: What (or whom) did you let go of this year? Why? I let go of the ideals that I have formed in my brain. The constant need to fix things. The desire to have the "perfect" life. Because none of that exists . . . but at least I can acknowledge it these days.

There . . . that feels better!

Jill

When Life Gets In the Way

2010-12-05T13:27:00.001-05:00

There was a time in my life when I believed that stress didn't exist. I even was dumb enough to say that to a group of people. I wasn't incredibly young; hell, I think I was in my mid-30s and Lord knows I had encountered my fair share of stressful situations: having children while still in college, finding out that one baby was really two, coming out of college in a recession, applying for Welfare . . . all pretty stressful. Still, I never really felt it.

But lately, stress is becoming a little more known in my life. Last year, several people commented, "You look like you've lost weight," which is always nice to hear. However, I knew it was coming from lack of eating properly. These days, I'll eat sometimes to stay awake if I am doing something that needs to get done . . . which isn't a good idea. Knitting has always provided a kind of stress relief for me. Even that, these days, is compounding the stress that I feel. The night before Thanksgiving, I decided that it was high time to finish one of my sweaters. I had plans to wear it to school the next week, and I knew that I needed to finish the sleeve . . . that's right, one little sleeve. I picked up the stitches but felt that something was wrong. See, on the other sleeve, I remembered the number configuration, and this sleeve was not the same. After some "heavy math" and questioning Dave about my calculations, I discovered that I had fucked up this sweater AGAIN. Seems that this time, instead of felting the damn thing, I put too few stitches on waste yarn for the sleeve. If you are a knitter, then you know that this type of thing is fixable by doing one thing: ripping it out. If you aren't a knitter, then think of something that you can't fix save for starting all over. Note that I said AGAIN. I won't bore you with the details, but you can read all about it here.

After a minute of dumb-founded confusion, I started crying. Dave came over and held my hand, telling me that it would be okay, but sometimes you just know. The Girls came back from a friend's house about that time. Later, they would tell Dave that they thought my father passed away. No, Grandpa is still kicking . . . but your mother is a knitting failure. I pulled out all of my easy knitting projects and decided to finish them since I needed that kind of "pick-me-up." I took the sweater to my Knit Night just to see what everyone thought. Pretty unanimous: rip the sucker and start over.

Honestly, if wool burned, I would have a pile of ashes right now instead of a bag full of shit.

Jill

21:30

2010-11-21T22:41:00.001-05:00


{21:30}

Today, I got to photograph my friend & her son. I think that she was the first person I told that I was thinking about perusing photography as a side job. She said pretty quickly that I could practice with her kid. I let lots of time pass because I tend to just talk out loud without any taking action. I'm grateful that one day she said "Come over on 11/21" because I probably wouldn't have acted on my own words.

This weekend, I was able to spend it with two families. Yesterday, I photographed another family. She's very aware that this was my first time & we both laughed about having to be lovey-dovey. During the shoot, I said "Just pretend like you are so in love. Smile & each other. Whisper sweet nothings. All the gooey things." There was no reason for these words. Love shines through & is hard to miss.

It was fun to watch these women with their children. There's a love that cannot be faked of staged & I'm so grateful that I got to witness it.

-Erika

p.s. Personally, I love that first shot. It shows how she lets her son explore without fear. He isn't told "No, that's really high." I'm not sure she could stop him if she wanted. But instead of fighting, they rely on a great balance of trust & love.

17:30

2010-11-17T16:05:00.000-05:00

Today, I'm grateful for:

new flavors at Jeni's. (try the gouda one!)
meeting friends for lunch in the middle of the week.
talking photography over ice cream.
that this little one finally woke up to play.
her momma because she's giving me a chance to practice as a photographer.
having friends with similar mothering-styles.

But I'm really grateful for online friends that have become actual friends.

-Erika

16:30

2010-11-16T10:59:00.000-05:00


{16:30}

These photos were not taken today, but I'm still grateful today for the experience. During the past couple weeks, I've been thinking about photographing other families. It was becoming a nagging itch that I could no longer ignore. It's time that I start scratching. I'm not sure what will happen, but it's time to give it attention. So I began asking family & friends if I could photograph them. And a few have asked even before I could dial their phone number. Asking was the first little jump. A watermark was the second. A website will be the third.

My SIL let me practice on her kids this past weekend. These kids know me. They're comfortable with my questions & my camera wielding ways. I'm aware that these facts make a photographer's job much easier. Once we got passed the "No Cheese" zone & when they realized I was going to shoot even if they weren't looking, we got along quite well. Here are a few of my favorites:

-Erika

15:30

2010-11-15T22:27:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow, my post might be, "I'm grateful for not puking or gakking or otherwise getting the flu," but that doesn't seem very likely given the current state. For now, I'm grateful for sick days that I can use when I am sick

But until then . . . enjoy! And remember, no matter how hot he was in college, how bad-ass he was in that dive bar, how charming he might have been on that third date . . . he's now a dad. Chances are he's still hot, bad-ass, and charming. Have a safe trip, Dave . . . miss you already!

- Jill

14:30

2010-11-14T21:52:00.001-05:00

It doesn't happen very often, but today was sheer bliss. And it had to do with nothing. Not a damn thing. No grading. No planning. No cleaning (although I probably should have). Nothing. I'm grateful for sitting down and doing absolutely nothing other than knitting . . . and watching football . . . and reviewing photographs. Period.

The City In Autumn from Jill Greenwood on Vimeo.

Jill, who's also grateful for Ted Leo and the Pharmacists

11:30

2010-11-11T22:35:00.000-05:00


{11:30}

When I fly, I have to fly early. This flight was much better than my past flights. I only had to get up at 5 a.m. Before I fly, I don't sleep. I completely freak out that the alarm won't work. This particular night, I was wired. I tried to sleep really hard. I squeezed my eyes so tight, it might have woken me up. I'm pretty sure I slept for a total of 3 hours.

When I pulled into the garage, I pulled onto level 3. Not on purpose. Just because my brain told me too. I drove past a couple rows & remembered my last trip's spot. Shoot for Row E. Two trips have been in this same spot. Remember the Row E. Remember this spot. And tonight, I did. I'm grateful for not having to spend frantic moments trying to find my car.

-Erika

10:30

2010-11-10T20:05:00.001-05:00

While I might complain about grading essays, I truly am grateful for the decision I made eight years ago when I pursued education as my career choice. Originally, I had a degree in technical writing, but I hated every job that I took in that field. Most of it was done on spec for clients that ranged from major hospitals to Ivy League colleges to small non-profits. And I hated just about every job that I had because there was a lack of interaction with other people. So when the Girls were in the third grade, I took a job as an instructional assistant at a neighboring district and was hooked. Turns out I actually enjoyed working with middle school aged children, and I loved learning new things from the people that shared the space around me. Three years later, I left that position to work on my certification in education. Ironically, I was hired in the same building where I worked as an assistant.

Days run together after about the third week. I seem repeat myself to the point where I am sure that one day someone will find me in the corner muttering, "Your name, my name, English 7. period you have it, today's date . . . no punctuation," just to get the MLA heading down properly. Christ, there are some days that I consider getting that simple, four-line heading correct a major victory. I've worked out a dance to teach my kids the writing process, I've smacked my head against the board for emphasis, I've made kids cry for no reason other than saying, "I don't understand your writing," I've cried after kids tell me they couldn't get their homework done because their mother is dying of cancer, I've laughed so hard I thought I was going to puke, I've seen just about everything, I've heard just about every excuse. And yet . . . every day is a brand new day.

Whoever said, "Those who can, do, those you can't teach," never taught a day in their life

Yesterday, I was privileged and honored to chaperone an annual trip to New York City to see the Martha show taping for our school's television production class. The students come from all walks of life and offer a unique glimpse into the future that awaits us in 20 years. Part of me is frightened - I've seen them eat and heard their jokes - but a bigger part of me can't wait. Our future is more than bright . . . and for that I am so grateful.

Jill

PS - I'll get a video up sometime this week from both the New York trips - Dave's and my trip and the Martha trip . . . after all, I still have those essays to grade

9:30

2010-11-09T21:10:00.000-05:00


{9:30}

I was over a week late & starting to get really worried. Today, I'm grateful that I started my period. I'm extremely fortunate to have had two children and that's where I'd like my fortune to stop. My sanity can handle two on good days. The thought of adding another sibling to our clan is so terrifiying to me. A third would feel like the prisoners took over the jail. A third just freaks me out. I see families with three & I start to sweat. I know lots of people with three kids & they're all good familes. I know that someone will comment here or on Flickr something along the lines of this:

LOL! I thought the same thing & then we had #3. I wouldn't change it for the world.

And I'd say, "That's so wonderful!" And I'd actually mean it. I just don't want to take that chance. I like sitting at a table without having a chair hanging off the end. Amusement parks will love us because we aren't breaking up the family for roller coaster rides. And god forbid, our third was a girl. Here's another comment I have gotten or might get again:

LOL! I only wanted boys too & then my girl came along. I love her so much!

And I'd say, "That's wonderful!" And I'd actually mean it. If I had to pick, I want all boys. But since that's not how nature works, I'm certain I'd love a daughter too. I'm not cold-hearted, I just know what I'm good at. Fart sounds & boogers are where I'm strongest. That being said, a third child for us would definitely be a girl. I just know it.

But whenever a period is late, your mind scampers off to the big "What-if?" They actually over-warn you before a vasectomy that a pregnancy is possible. The chances are 1 in 64,000. But there's a 1 in that sentence & that's all I focus on. During this week, I was assuming that my body is still getting used to not have birth control in its system, but it was starting to freak me out.

Here's the part of the story that does make me sad. I adore being pregnant. If I could spend my entire life being pregnant, I just might. I'm not sure what it is. I wasn't overly emotional about the pregnancy. When I saw the ultrasounds, I didn't cry at the sight of my son. I didn't fully attach to either kid while in utero. My pregnancies were easy. I was huge, but that was fine. It was funny to bump into things with my bump. It was amusing to hear the shit people would ask or say about my pregnancy. I liked trying to figure out if I was resting my book on a baby butt or a head. I loved being the hospital. I loved breast-feeding all over the place. All of it & I will miss that until the day my kids put me in a home. But I don't want the rest that comes with a pregnancy, I'm thrilled & blessed with the two I have. I'd carry babies for the 20 women if I could, but I'd gladly hand their child over the second I pushed it out. Goo & all.

Until someone rents out my womb, I'm grateful to have started my period.

-Erika

8:30

2010-11-09T11:41:00.003-05:00

{8:30}

Last night, I had dinner with a good friend. I wasn't feeling well all day & almost picked up the phone to cancel at least 3 times. But I didn't want to cancel. I wanted this dinner. Amy & I don't get together as much as we used to. A long time ago, she was part of a couple in our group of good friends. We spent our weekends watching bands or hanging out at a party/dive bar. She's the type of person that everyone loves. If a stranger sat down next to us one of two things would have happened. First scenario: we began chatting, learned a lot about the stranger, & probably helped them solve a problem. Second scenario: we informed the stranger that we were producers for MTV's reality tv department & we were looking for stars. Both scenarios would drive Mark insane. Name a pop star or group from early 2000's. We've seen them. We've offered a waiting father a beer in the parking lot of an N'Sync concert. We snuck down for better seats at a Britney Spears concert. And we talked our non-drinking friends to hold our extra beers at the Justin/Christina concert. Don't judge. You try going to a pop show with thousands of teenagers, you'd drink too. We've had some fun.

But then that couple split & I knew we wouldn't see as much of each other. It also happened during the first few months of my life as a new mom. I was going through the biggest change of my life & that probably lessen the impact of what the split meant to & for me. But I understood that she needed to be away from the group. I knew she was making some big changes too. Our friendship was going to have to change. And that was ok. Over the past 5 years, we see each other when we can. And each time it feels good. Our relationship is sort of like a good soap opera, but without the drama. We can get together after a couple months & pick right up again. She's hilarious, laid back, talented, & extremely supportive. I know that when I need encouragement or good advice that she's stocked up to her eyeballs with it & will generously dole it out.

Yesterday & every day, I'm grateful for my friend Amy.

-Erika

7:30 . . . Brought To You By the Letter "E"

2010-11-08T06:02:00.000-05:00

Generally, when Erika has done about ten posts in a row, one of two things has occurred: she's either found a new project OR it's the end of the quarter/I have a ton of essays to grade. Imagine, if you will, a perfect storm of blog silence from me . . . and new project coupled with both the end of the quarter and 130 character sketches of various ranges of mediocrity.

My friend, Brian, for whom I am extremely grateful

It's not that I'm not grateful (hell, I am grateful every morning I wake up and get ready for work), but putting that gratitude into words seems hollow to me and inevitably, my suckiness at it creeps in. I tried to keep a gratitude journal about 13 years ago, and I failed miserably. That journal lasted only about three days; I distinctly remember starting it around October 6th as the first thing I was grateful for was the birth of my niece, Katie. See what I mean? I can't even maintain a written form of gratitude with a new infant.


Scenes From Under My Maple Tree . . . for which I am exceedingly grateful

Today, however, I'll explain my gratitude in simpler terms. I'm extremely grateful for catching up with a good friend because emails are not enough to fill the void of seeing each other every day. I'm exceedingly grateful for the yellow leaves that float like feathers from a maple tree that has seen more than its fair share of change. I'm eternally grateful for my students' writing, even when it causes me to question whether or not I actually speak the same language as them . . . because surely some of the confusion must be due to a barrier with the Mother Tongue.

Stacks of paper, written by 12-year-olds, revised by a 41-year-old . . . for which I am eternally grateful

But most of all, I'm grateful for my sister who would put up post after post after post - even with sick kids - without bitching or complaining or calling to harangue me because deep down, she knows how to be grateful . . . and she knows that this is the time of year when report cards are due.

- Jill

6:30

2010-11-07T08:59:00.001-05:00

{The exhibit was pretty much empty & one bear was swimming. Bonus}

{I think our boys would love to just climb on the statues rather than look at the animals}

{or walk on the walls}

{I think this is when he was done. He eeked out a "Cheese."}

{They like to check off where they went.}

-Erika

5:30

2010-11-06T09:23:00.000-04:00

{5:30}

I'm incredibly grateful for our libraries. I'm shocked when people don't use their libraries. Because our library system is so good, we're able to preview all new book purchases. I can honestly say that I have never not found a new-release or older book I was searching for because they always have it. The reserve feature is almost magical. See a book online/tv, visit the library's website, reserve it, a few days/weeks later it's in your hands. See? Magic! We get to read books that have been out of print for years. We get to listen to music that was stolen from our college collection. It's a service that we never take for granted & use on a weekly basis. Last year, we were afraid that our quality of service was going to be diminished because our libraries faced budget issues like everyone else in the world. They cut hours (no Sunday hours & shorter weekday hours) & some funding for new books. We felt devastated. Sunday trips to the library were starting to become the norm in our house. Believe me, library trips are not always smooth or enjoyable with two young kids. There's plenty of "How do we speak in the library" talk as we drive over to the branch. We like to pour over each new release & linger in certain aisles & kids don't understand "linger" as well as we'd like. Actually, they know how to linger when we don't want them to linger, but that's another post. But this past Tuesday, the library got some funds because the people voted in their favor. I'm grateful that the libraries won.

People, use your libraries & use them often! Even if you don't get every single new release, check out what they have to offer. Something will be new to you.

-Erika