Courtesy of the man, thirty minutes of my school day I have no idea what to do with. It doesn't take half an hour to sip a Coke and scarf down whatever gluten free nutrition bar I managed to shove in my purse no matter how slowly I chew. Me time is a major challenge when there's so much work to be done. Enter Pinterest! I came across this free printable weekly organizer form the other day during "lunch"...
I'm trying to be a list person. It isn't working but I am trying. The "perfect" form to control my out of control life is now my agenda, 30 minutes a weekday.
At three something this morning I stood pleading with our bully cat Daisy to stop beating up sweet Archie cat, while hand washing the popcorn bowl used way earlier in the evening. Having just watched Being Erica, I pondered the lesson from Dr. Tom.
The time frame is sadly correct for the predawn dish debrief. Let's backtrack. Marital movie night was the Tooth Fairy on DVR courtesy of the free HBO preview last weekend on Dish.
Dwayne's bare chest was far yummier than popcorn! Don't judge, dear hubby had eyes glued to miss Ashley Judd. Post Tooth Fairy we watched last week's SYTYCD show and results on hulu.
Best performance of the night...Adele sings, they dance, I get chill bumps.
My nocturnal self then perused hulu once dear hubby zonked, finally committing to Being Erica. Synchronicity. I've been processing several months now the reasons I bowed out of blogging last year. Precisely due to opinions.
In my very little world, I was under the {false} assumption only people I knew in real life or those I personally invited via Networked Blogs, and kindred spirits from the artsy-craftsy family read my blog. The word surprise didn't validate my feelings when a) I turned the isle at the local podunk Wal-mart, or b) when I politely spoke to a random person at a high school football game last fall, receiving spontaneous feedback on my blog. These flesh & blood commenters I wouldn't categorize as acquaintances much less befriend on facebook. Ignorant me thinking I could do my thang in relative anonymity.
Reflecting, I'm still not certain if the feeling of being watched or fear of critics lurking about stopped my posting. Honestly I've written lots, though sometimes only in my head. Literally sinking in at the sink the life lesson - the only opinion that really matters to me is mine. I started this blog for me at a time I was sinking. Tears ran down my cheeks in the theatre watching Julie & Julia as Julie shared the same experience. Sometimes you have to live something to understand it.
Blogging was my outlet. The venue to write, justify craft & fabric expenses, and form friendships with some totally amazing creative ladies. Some are published authors now, others continue the creative journey oblivious to the inspiration they share by blogging. Brave creative souls.
The theme here is I refuse to worry any longer if your opinion differs from mine. Dang! I've wrestled the opinion monkey a lifetime. Feels good to put my big girl panties on to finally cage that judgemental primate. I've spent far too much of my time here trying to please other people. My turn. The truth is I am flawed, I am overly sensitive, I am a perfectionist procrastinator, I live in my head because I feel too much, and God needs me to be exactly who I am for His reasons.
If I haven't already, I will disappoint you because I am on my own journey. So, the point I am at & the one you need me to be at are almost never the same. The worst critic role has been filled {by me} so less than positive comments are not needed. If you don't understand, best wishes on your journey. If you do understand, I hope you will continue to be an artsy reader as I intend to resume writing.
"I could write a blog, I have thoughts." Julie Powell, Julie & Julia
Reckon Ken ever tried patching two holes behind Barbie's gas range where long gone venting once was and ended up completely demolishing her kitchen? Now by completely demolishing I mean no stove for Barbie to cook on, no sink for Barbie to wash dishes in, and no cabinets for Barbie to put her kitchen accouterments in. Picture Barbie's hands in the air, her hair frazzled, her teacher Barbie glasses askew and covered in renovation dust. I look like that.
I'm too tired now to explain how this situation occurred during the first weekend since school got out. I was scraping old wallpaper adhesive from the walls and painting my color board with the tiniest ever sponge brush until 1 am. Oh, I forgot to mention house guests arrive in less than 10 days.
To clarify, I find no similarity between Barbie and myself. She has always had it too easy. Young girls need more realistic role playing to prepare them for life.
The Thurman family farmhouse that is now home to its' 5th generation is truly our dream house. Unexpected kitchen demolition renovation and all. This farmhouse existed without a gas range and running water before. I'm all for historical preservation but that particular situation should be rectified over the next couple of days. Did I mention we found original 19th century bead-board walls in the kitchen? Now that's better than any prefab dream house!
Midnight crafting rocks now that my digital cutter has finally been unpacked! Hunting through boxes with Jeffy's massive EMS flashlight perched between my chin & chest I could do without. Note to self - find attractive miner headlamp before anyone mentions unpacking boxes again.
And guess who was sitting on the couch tonight as I foraged for craft supplies mumbling something about a "dedicated" craft space? Evidently he still doesn't know me. I've created for so many years without a proper craft area I won't know how to function if an expedition for a reliable pair of scissors isn't step one in a project. My IKEA scissors were found in dear Son's room on his wasteland of a desk from a recent 3D poster project at school. I can't do sudoku but I can assemble a ridiculous selection of craft supplies when the mood strikes.
This adorable scallop treat box is filled with Hershey's Double Chocolate Nuggets. It was made from white card stock, plaid scrapbook paper, sage ribbon, fake floral tidbit, and the see through film was cut from a sheet protector. By the way, I made two of these. On the first one I used a Scotch permanent adhesive runner which was so not permanent. Then I re-glued it with an Elmer's Glue stick; epic fail. Finally I broke out the hot glue gun. When in doubt, always use adhesive that can cause burns measured by degree.
My previous post, depicting a slightly open door, was all the universe needed. I hope distance/perspective allows me to fully understand why life is tumultuous every now and again.
These days I'm foraging for images to represent an aesthetic style swirling around my head. Part Pottery Barn, Martha Stewartesque, somewhat country chic, with a dash of vintage. A timeless but fresh take on traditional farm style. Hence, the photo above. This outdoor dining space is fabulous! Mixy matchy pieces atop a pea gravel carpet is just the look I want outside my kitchen window. Eventually I'll have enough images to visually tour my mental ideal home. If life continues to pitch me around, the word ideal may be removed from the prior sentence. As in "tour my mental home."
Did you know Lowe's dates their paint labels? Proof I've procrastinated this project since July 10th. I'm ashamed to show the "before" photo. At one time it was white and had those builder brassish fittings. Poor door.
Yesterday, I scrubbed the door down and used one of those magic erasers for the scuffs. It worked well, magic. Finally a household product that lives up to the hype. Go Mr. Clean! Had I not been sick {sick I tell you} of the generic color and those pitiful excuses for hardware, a heavy duty cleaning might have done it. Two coats of "Grandma's Linen" and some spray paint to disguise substandard hardware...a door makeover on the cheap. Pretty door. ;0)
I awoke this morning before 8 am; atypical of my weekend sleeping habits. All the more surprising since bedtime was around 2 am. So, after bribing two cats to cease the meows with Iams, I got out for errands. Mid way through Wal-Mart, I made the executive decision chips & salsa sounded like a well deserved treat. I don't deserve anything seeing as how I'm so horribly behind on everything. Regardless, I indulged on taco salad and mindless chick lit in the form of Plum Sykes' novel Bergdorf Blondes.
Yes, I'm the loco chica reading, blogging, and chowing down on some yummy Mexican by myself in the corner booth. I've got to add this to my "cheaper than therapy" list. Gracias.
Pictured above is my first test grade after umpteen+ years since graduating high school. My first term paper was turned in last week. After class tonight, I asked my professor how the grading was coming. It felt like that episode of Gilmore Girls where Rory ends up hearing she should drop a class. He said he hadn't finished reading it yet. Not the answer I wanted. He pulled my paper out of a leather case and said there were some formatting issues but it was very interesting reading which was a refreshing change from the usual papers he gets. He went on to say it was the most imaginative paper he remembers reading. :0) He only had a page or so left to read. I'm getting the chance to tweak the formatting issues and turn it in again Wednesday night. That would be the very same night as my mid-term exam. I know I'm an overachiever, among other things. It's only one class but I want an "A" so badly. Mainly to prove to myself that I am indeed good enough. Isn't that what we all crave anyway? To be good enough. A letter on a transcript won't prove anything really but at least it would make the added stress I've been under since August seem worth it. And give me more leverage for the high standards I have concerning dear Son's grades.
A gift I made on the quick for a dear friend's 40th blowout. Had a party not been involved, she would've been added to the ever growing list I owe birthday gifts.
There are a ridiculous amount of unfinished projects all over my house. It's like a craft war zone. And my cheap iron finally died so dear Hubby & I went to Target this weekend to pick out a new cheapo iron. We're both still in mourning over the old one. For real; the old one far exceeded our expectations of the twenty buck investment. That was so long ago you could buy a household appliance at Wal-Mart and expect it to last longer than a year. We couldn't even remember what year we bought it. Man that was a good iron. Anyhow, I should be able to get over the loss because my new iron is PINK! Oh yeah they make pink irons! It's the little things that make me happy. ;0)
