Wrapping Up 2011

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

Even Princess Leia would be mystified

1. Dave chipped a molar on Christmas Eve on the super yummy - but super crisp - bacon on the annual Christmas Eve bacon brie cranberry sandwich. 
2. 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. 
3. 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. 
4. 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

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

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:

1. Get my next round of clothes for Project 333 selected. 
2. 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).
3. 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. 
4. Clean the gutters. Which means: get out the ladder, climb up, scoop the shit out, let the water drain, then take a shower 
5. Sit 'n Knit on Saturday and work the Fourth of July sale. Any knitters dream: personal shopper/pusher for all things fibery and good. 
6. Possibly see a movie. Really want to see Bad Teacher if only to reassure myself that I am not. 
7. Vacuum. I hate it, but I'm pretty sure that Dave is mowing the lawn, and it's the least I can do. 
8. 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).
9. 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.
10. 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.

Kind of Like Sand In Your Bathing Suit

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

Projects, Projects Everywhere

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

A Closet Of My Own

 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

Why Toy Story 3 Kind of Sucked For Me

This summer has been weird, just plain weird. We got out of school a little on the late side of June (apparently, snow and ice are uncommon in northeastern Pennsylvania), but that's not very weird. I made a list of what to do for the summer, but that is not very weird either. However, it's been weird having the Girls home for the summer. When you see Erika's photos, they inevitably have images of the Boys playing or doing something fun or learning about life. My photos? Pretty much devoid of such cuteness because I have 19-year-olds. Getting them to pose for a photo or let me take a quick snapshot is an exercise in negotiation skills that any union boss in the 1950s would be proud of.

So, that weird summer, the one in which I am in a new phase of motherhood - and one that I don't know if I completely grasp as of yet - is about to come to an end. We have been all consumed by apartment shopping as of late. What do you need? What have we got in the attic? Where can we find a cheap dresser? Who's bringing the pots and pans? Remember that list I created? Fuck it . . . half of it won't get done now.

On August 14th, the Girls will be moving into their first apartment in Philadelphia. They are living in a converted warehouse that is full of modern amenities, ones that make a slightly paranoid mother feel good about her children living in the middle of one of the countries largest cities. They will be taking our couch, their Mimi's silverware, some Salvation Army pots and pans, a rescued kitten (who really, really has been kind of fun to have), and a whole assortment of "things necessary for modern life" with them. But they are leaving Bun-Bun and Sara at home. And that makes me a little sad.

Bun-Bun and Sara were their constant companions when they were little. Jordan couldn't get to sleep without rubbing Bun-Bun's ear on her cheek. Sara and Shelby snuggled tightly in bed every night. If we left Bun-Bun and Sara at a grandparent's house, then we turned around to get them. Once after I washed Bun-Bun, the dryer was set too high, and the rattle inside melted a little. It didn't sound right, and Jordan was distraught . . . so Bun-Bun had an "emergency rattle transplant" with Shelby's Mousie (clearly not the preferred stuffie). At our mom's house, we had her stitch up Bun-Bun's ear, and she thought she would "help" by adding some stuffing to Bun-Bun's middle . . . mistake. Jordan shrieked that Mimi had "ruined" Bun-Bun, so Mom had to remove the stuffing and make things right. Shelby named Sara when she was about 15-months and spent hours talking to her. Sara has that plastic-rubber face that is impossible to clean . . . but her five-o'clock shadow never got in the way of being snuggle worthy.

So, come August 14, the U-Haul will be loaded with all sorts of crap, but I'm pretty sure that Bun-Bun and Sara will be staying put. They will eventually make their way to the attic with the other toys that were cherished a long, long time ago. And that's alright. We all go through it eventually. Cooper will lose interest in his train blanket, Erika. He'll put it aside for something else like a skateboard, which he can't exactly cuddle . . . but if you don't wash it, you can occasionally still snuggle with it and remember when you were actually relevant in your children's lives.

- Jill

When Serentiy Prayers Won't Work

How do you admit you have a problem? Face it head on? Let it fester for a while? Wait until your family stages an intervention? For me, I think it's a combination of all three. There's no substance abuse here, no illegal drugs, no behavior that is non-conducive to a productive life . . . but there might be a problem. Let me back-track about three weeks.

Jordan and Shelby finished their first year at Temple on the 12th (quite well, I might add). They came home to a messy house as I finished up with a student teacher a few days prior, was back in full teacher mode, and settling into a precarious balance of extra duties. Translation: cleaning was the last thing on my mind and I really didn't care. I'd had about six hours sleep over the course of two days and woken up thinking every morning for a week. Things at work had been reeling in my brain for days on end, and I could have cared less about what the dining room, living room, my room, and bathroom looked like. The Girls, on the other hand, did . . . and I totally get that. Truly, I do. But for me, cleaning would most likely wait until the first day of summer break.

I do this every summer, literally, spending days pulling everything out and doing a thorough purge of crap. Stuff I bought at Target on clearance - gone. Stuff I "rescued" from Mom's house - gone. Stuff I have been saving for another use - gone. Get the picture? Erika can tell you . . . I might not surface for a week depending on the mood, but the house gets clean. This year, I decided differently because the Girls were expressing their frustration with the clutter. Jordan even asked how, if she and Shelby were so tidy, I could live with all the mess on the dining room table. Truth be told, I really don't like it, but I've gotten used to it. And, I knew that once I got started, the yarn and knitting crap would take a full day to sort out properly.

Yesterday was that day. Dave and I went to Target and bought some lovely clear storage containers. I opened up a notebook, carefully inscribing "Projects" on one page and then skipping about 30 pages and writing "Yarn" on another. At 10 AM, I pulled out the first of many bags next to the couch to begin a slow descent into my own personal hell. You don't have to knit to understand this . . . you just need one hobby or craft or passion or collection. By the time Shelby woke up, the couch was covered with bags of yarn, projects half begun and discarded, various needles and books and shit that I long forgot I had. "Hey! You're cleaning the dining room," she said. When I pointed out that this was from next to the couch, her look changed. I don't think it was sympathy but more of concern.

By the time I finished pulling stuff out from bags, from cabinets, from under the table, from a beautiful stand that Dave bought me years ago when this obsession was manageable, I had no clue what to do next. Start by putting sweater-quantity yarn into a bin: check. Hang your head in shame over the ten sweater-quantity yarn selections you just put in that bin: check. Wonder if it's too early to start drinking: check. Think about running away: check. Motioning at the couch and the dining room table, I told Dave that I had no clue what to do next. "Well, you have to do something because it can't stay like that," he said.

About seven hours later, I finally admitted that I was, in fact, as done as I was going to be. Honestly, I accomplished a lot but nothing at the same time. Sure, I had the yarn all nicely organized and cataloged and tucked away . . . but the five sets of vocabulary essays and five sets of punctuation quizzes were still sitting in my school bag, my summer clothes still sat in Space Bags upstairs in the hall.

But damn if I don't have the nicest, most organized yarn in the county. I even saved a spot for the yarn I need for a new sweater.

Jill

Lists, Or How I Suck At Following Them

Every year, about this time, I get this itch to make lists. Part of me thinks that it has something to do with being a teacher and that never ending quest to learn. But truly, it stems from the fact that summer is about 18 short work days away, and I am a person who craves structure. Seriously . . . who makes "to do" lists for the summer? Umm, me. Summer should be a time of relaxing on the beach, basking in the sunlight, and recharging for the autumn. One problem . . . I burn quite easily. So I make lists instead.

Three-quarters of the time, my lists look like this:

1. Read insert 25 titles of books here.
2. Finish knitting insert all of my knitting projects here.
3. Make a quilt, bag, dress, whatever-strikes-my-fancy.
4. Learn how to take photographs like my sister (because I am a shitty, shitty photographer).
5. Exercise (seriously, this makes it on the list every single year).
6. Read some books for school.
7. Be a better cook

The list could go on and on and on. Rarely, if ever, do I cross off a single thing because while I crave structure, I also fall into routines too easily, routines like this:

1. Make two cups of coffee.
2. Watch Morning Joe.
3. Watch People's Court.
4. Watch Judge Judy.
5. Watch some other horrible reality television program with a judge.
6. Watch more television.
7. Attempt to make dinner.

So, the only list I plan on making this summer is limited to one thing: don't watch television during the day . . . except for Morning Joe (I kind of have a crush on Joe Scarborough . . . if anyone knows him, please pass the word).

Jill