Is it true love or just fall making me itchy?

Have you seen Twist Collective Fall 2010?

Two patterns are making me seriously consider a trip to the yarn store or at least to my basement.  But after not finishing a project in about a year, is this true love or infatuation?  Do I dare venture down the path of broken dreams called UFO Avenue?

I'll just look through my apple picking pictures again.  That's distracting.

"Picnik Show"

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Maybe not. A cozy cabled hoodie would look perfect in an orchard. Shit.

-Erika

Not Sure What's Going On

When summer ended, I was really, really happy because this summer kind of sucked for me. I can't put my finger on it exactly, but it wasn't up there in my all time favorites. It never really seemed like it was a summer for me; granted, school was out, it was hotter than Hell, and I bought new flip-flops, but it never really jelled for me.

Contemplating Everything

I spent a good percentage of my time this summer crying, and I have no clue what is causing it. For some reason, I think I might have blogged a bit about it, but even that escapes me at this time. One Friday when I was cleaning, I caught sight of myself in the mirror and burst into tears. Not just a little tear in the corner of my eye but huge, gulping, snot-streaming-out-of-my-nose tears. I was cleaning the damn house one minute and fifteen minutes later, I'm sobbing on the couch trying to fold clothes. I tried to explain it to Dave, after a poignant story came on the news that he missed. Trying to explain the story to him resulted in me crying and telling him that I didn't know what was wrong.

Not BAMming Yet

Part of me was wrapped up in the whole "I'm Not Good Enough" routine that I go through every once and a while. I work myself into a frenzy thinking that I'm not a good enough: mom, wife, daughter, sister, teacher, knitter, photographer . . . slap an "-er" on there, and I'll think I'm not good enough. I certainly spent more time analyzing my mothering skills this summer than I should have, and I came up with more question marks than anything.

Lounging Around (and trying to keep my boobs in my shirt)

The other part of me is wrapped up in being 40. Sometimes I'll try to take stock of my life and see what I've done, and I'm not sure what that is because "I'm Not Good Enough" . . . it's a vicious, vicious cycle. I thought that by this age, I'd have it all figured out. But some days, I feel as unsure of myself as I did when I was 23 and dirt poor. Everyone wants to make an impact on at least one person's life, and I'm starting to feel like I won't.

Usually I can get this out of my system after a few weeks, but this funk has stuck around longer than the other funkers have. I never, ever call it depression because I don't necessarily think that's what it is; maybe it is, and I just don't want to admit it. So for now, I'll try to figure it out day by day. Some days are better than others, but then I see a photo of insert any of a various list of nouns and the tears well up. Crap.

- Jill

It's Friday & I'm In Love "Music"

You can always tell when school starts up again because I go "blog silent" . . . things happen and the blog suffers. I took a bunch of photos last week, but it was either process them or grade some essays. Guess which one I picked? Happily, the essays are all graded, and I'm caught up. So that brings me to this week's "lovely" topic, and it's an easy one: music. Honestly, I'm shocked that neither one of us has tackled it up to this point because music is so integral to our lives.

Let's face it, we all have a connection to certain songs, certain songs that will rock you to your very core. You remember where you were when you heard one song. Another brings you to tears each and every time. Some will transport you back in time 30 years when you could, in fact, rock that ponytail. There's music to chill by, music to cook by, music to grade by . . . hell, there are a fair amount that you can fuck by, but who's counting (me . . . seven, but that's another Friday). Over the years, I would like to think that I've refined my taste into some respectable categories, but I would be lying. Case in point, I'm listening to Ke$ha's "Take It Off" right now because it's catchy. Do I honestly think it has artistic merit? Hell, no. But the chick knows who to spin a tune . . . or at least her producers do.

Instead of listing all the music that I like - and believe me, there is a ton of it - I'll focus on just ten songs that I don't think my life would be the same without. Yes, I could live without them, but I would be a bigger bitch than I already am (but I did try to find some nice videos for you so I can't be that big of a bitch).

1. "Breathe Me" by Sia - There is something about her voice, the way that she starts by asking for help. I've been known to watch a really crappy trailer for a movie if they use this song or not turn away from a super-depressing commercial about cancer research just to hear it. 
2. "California Waiting" by Kings of Leon - I'm pretty sure that if you've read a few posts, you might know that I love the Kings. I've officially seen them more in concert than any other band, including U2. It is happy, peppy, and, as an added bonus, you can kinda, sorta understand all the words (but I don't like this version that much).
3. "Show Me What I'm Looking For" by Carolina Liar - I love the end of this song, where the chorus breaks the normal pattern and the symphony kicks in and the bells chime. Not quite chill-bump inducing, but nonetheless, it's pretty brilliant. 
4. "Bad, Bad Leroy Brown" by Jim Croce - From the introductory plonk of the piano, I can tell you exactly how my dad would dance with me as a four-year old. Nothing makes me feel like a kid again . . . nothing. But then again, I wanted to be Dorris for the longest time.
5. "The Reflex" by Duran Duran - While we're on this trip down memory lane, let's visit the 80's. There's a special place in my heart for Duran Duran. I loved Simon LeBon and probably would have thrown my bra at him had I been to a concert in their heyday. My first time seeing the Double D's? Three years ago . . . where a co-worker and I nearly got popped for open container in New York City. 

6. "In the Sun" by Joseph Arthur - If you haven't heard this song, go have a listen . . . I'll wait. It was featured in Saved, which is an amazing movie, and pretty much makes the movie extra special. It's not a song that will always make me cry, but it pushes me over the edge. 
7. "Babylon" by David Gray - The first time I heard this song? Heading to Ohio on the Pennsylvania Turnpike, just about to crest the hill where they post the sign that you've left the Chesapeake Bay Watershed. Dave bought me the CD on one of his trips to Canada because it came out three weeks earlier than in the States. 
8. "Thoroughly Modern Millie" by Julie Andrews - Yes, it's a show tune. Yes, I love it. No, I never got to see it on Broadway. I just love this song . . . and I have no explanation for it. 
9. "Life On Mars" by any artist - Prime example of the song being the focal point. I like it by David Bowie, Arcade Fire, Seal . . . hell, I even like it by Popshop and Seu Jorge. And the fact that it was the title of one of my favorite British serials doesn't hurt either. 
10. "Bad" by U2 - Honestly, I could have chosen several dozen, but that would have skewed the list a bit. "Bad" makes feel like I am 15 again, sunbathing on my grandparents' farm, wondering my a certain basketball player had yet to call me. Back then, I was probably moping while trying to look the part of a sunbather; now, I would say, "F**k You!" which is the name of the song by Cee Lo Green that is running on iTunes . . . his asterisks, not mine).

Happy Friday and enjoy the weekend!
- Jill, who just bought a Justin Bieber song . . . but don't tell Mom

The tents are put away.

Back to our regular life.  "Regular" isn't really true.  Our life feels pretty irregular.  We're still having big issues getting to Kindergarten.  For the past two days, we're reverting to First Day Blues.  I'm literally out of ideas.  We've tried everything & nothing is working.  So our new regular life will have to wait awhile.  Until our mornings get a little easier, I'll flip through these pictures.

And if you want to witness more fun, click here.

-Erika

"It's Friday & I'm in Love" Labor Day Camping

I'll be very simple with my Favorite today.  I love Labor Day camping.  Done.  That's it folks.  I love it.  It's my favorite time of the year.  It's three days of camping, beer, friends, conversation, & no kids.  That's right, you heard it.  No kids.

Here's a little photo love from last year's adventure.  2010 you'll be a good one.  I can feel it.

{Bags Deep & Susan's Pound Hole=Why Kids Aren't Invited}

-Erika

One of my Favorite Statements

I love when someone says, "There are two types of people in this world."  How could you not love this delicious nugget?  I mean really!  The person in front of you has just boiled down all mankind into two categories.  No gray areas.  Only two types & that's it.  There are the types the love Edward or Jacob.  The types that do that thing in the bedroom & the types that don't.  The types that laugh when someone falls & the types that pretend not to notice.  The types that hope for the David Lee shows & the types that beg for the Sammy shows.  Here's my statement.

There's only two types of people in this world: Poppers & Non-poppers.

You know who you are.  You read it & went, "Well, I'm a _____."  There's no half poppers or barely non-poppers.  It isn't possible.  But if you're delusional, let me help you figure out which camp you're in.  Non-poppers are responsible people.  They know the dangers of infection & scarring.  They're patient people.  One day, a whitehead will form on their neck.  On the following day that whitehead will resemble a second head.  They won't touch it.  They won't even try to carry on a conversation with it.  They'll just ignore it.  Until one day when they're removing their shirt, it explodes all over the place.  That's how Non-Poppers take care of popping things.  They also get the best zits.  Go figure.

 Poppers are different.  "Scarring" & "Infection" are words that don't exist in their vocabulary.  They will try to pop the unpoppable: a butt zit (everyone knows those don't pop) or a mosquito bite just because of its raised formation.  It's fair game & a disappointment they've experienced a hundred times.  Poppers have to be warned when they have newborns.  "Those little white bumps can't be popped" is repeated often during those first months.  Poppers have stories about their conquests.  "Remember that one on Dad's back that came out six inches long & smelled like shit?"  "Remember that one that was in a weird place?  You popped it in the shower & it brought you to your knees."  Remember that one that had to be dug out?"  Poppers have to sit on their hands when they're behind a Non-Popper in church.  Poppers know that a bobby-pin or a key can be useful tools in the art of popping & the tool they sell in Sephora is a rip-off.  Poppers are a determined bunch of folks that pray to have a huge zit.

So which are you?

-Erika
Popper.

Wait . . . You Want Me To Copy That Down?

School started for me yesterday.

I teach periods 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, and 7 with a 30-minute "lunch" at period 4. By the time I make it to 8th period, I am beat beyond belief (alliteration, kids . . . note the repetition of the initial consonants). I sincerely want to take off my shoes  at 8th when I eat a proper lunch, but I know damn well that I wouldn't get them back on again to leave the building, and walking across the parking lot barefooted would benefit no one. Today, we had a student punch another in the stomach. He wound up being internally suspended. When I went in to check on him, he was sitting with his shirt up and his navel exposed. "Boy, is it hot," he sighed. Not that I didn't admire his creativity in solving his heat issues or the fact that he was completely correct in his detective work that is was hot, but seriously, I don't want to see his belly button. I've had eyes rolled at me so violently that I feared they might slide out of the child's head. They openly question why I have give a writing assignment so soon in the school year. But some students belly laugh during a goofy video I used to demonstrate the power of a goal to the point that I questioned if I had the right clip cued up. I'm learning more about the autistic spectrum than I ever thought I would need, and yet I don't feel as if I know a damn thing about it. Already, I've had three students cry for reasons I have yet to determine, and five students from the previous year hug me and ask to be taken back. I look at the quiet student sitting by herself and wonder how long it is going to take for her to say, "Hello," to me or any other breathing human. The boy next to her? I ask God how long it will take for him to sit in silence during a lesson and get it.

Clearly, I took this before I started back to school

This was day two . . . and I still love my job.

- Jill, who will attempt to pick up a camera soonish to take a photograph or two