The Edge of Reason

January Days

I don't like snow. Really. I don't like it. After living in Wisconsin for seven very long, very cold, very white winters, I seriously do not like snow. And yet, a couple of weeks ago I found myself wishing for snow. It astounded me. Where did that come from? Seriously. I do not like snow. But when the temperatures hit a record breaking 72 degrees in the middle of January, something is wrong. 72 degrees does not feel like winter. In fact, 72 degree weather makes me long for summer. And January in Virginia is a long way away from the summer days that I love so very much. I don't like being teased like that. Thus, my convoluted wish for snow.

Yesterday, my wish came true. The forecast was for a few hours of snow turning to sleet and then rain later in the day. Fine. I can handle that, because that is more like the Virginia winters I am used to. And so when I heard the forecast, I thought to myself, "bring on the snow!" And snow it did. All day long. It accumulated quickly and continued to fall. One inch. Two inches. Three inches. Four inches. Almost five inches of snow. Not what they had predicted at all. And, by the way, why on earth were my kids still in school? It was snowing to beat the band and my kids were sitting up at the high school anxiously awaiting the good news of an early dismissal. But the good news never came. They waited and waited, only to hear... nothing... keep working... settle down... pay attention... you are not going home early. Huhn? What was up with that? Our district is notorious for releasing the kids early. They've been known to send them home at the very first hint of the white stuff. Heck, in the past they've even canceled school before snow started falling. That's how overly cautious they are. So where on earth were my kids?

In the meantime, John was scheduled for an infusion, but I had no meds. The meds were sitting on a truck... in the snow. And the nurse - she was calling me asking if she could come early due to early dismissal. Poor girl, driving in the muck and the mess. But since I had no meds, and since my son was still sitting in class, we couldn't make that happen. Darn snow. Eventually, the meds did arrive, as did my son, as did the nurse. But I spent the entire afternoon fretting and stewing as I wondered if the infusion would actually happen.

Today the snow is melting. They delayed school for two hours. Sure. Better make up for their error from yesterday. The news is reporting angry parents. No doubt. It's one thing if this was a pattern. But, no. They deviated from the norm, and people don't like that. As for me, I'm enjoying the blue skies and warmer temperatures while I can because more snow is predicted over the weekend. Yep, that's winter in Virginia... it's a fickle thing.

Before the snow fell, this is what I'd been working on:

Last weekend I decided it was time to spiff up my kitchen. Usually, I add seasonal patterns to my table. You know - snowmen in the winter, flowers in the spring, leaves in the fall. That sort of thing. I'm actually quite anal about it. In fact, I've got quite a collection of placemats and table runners that I've made through the years - lots of things to choose from. But for some reason, I decided to deviate this winter. Color. That's what I need. Bright, sunny, fun colors. And so I rummaged through my stash of fabric and this is what I found - exactly what I wanted... until I ran into a wall. Do you see the multi-striped fabric in the upper left photo? The stuff that reminds me of a circus? Yeah, that. My intention was to use that fabric as binding around the placemats and the new table runner, which I did. And I hate it. ABSOLUTELY, POSITIVELY HATE IT. So I set the project aside. Today I'm contemplating what to do next. The quilt top still needs "quilted", but the placemats are done. Yep. Done. Finished. Complete. Six placemats, ready to use. But I won't. I can't... I just can't bring myself to putting something so garish on my table. And so my options are this: 1) use the placemats and cringe every time I walk into my kitchen (which in my mind is not an option at all), or 2) tear them all out and find a different fabric to use (clearly, the option of choice).

In the meantime, Alyssa's sewing machine is now sitting in the dining room on a chair (I used her sewing machine for this project because it has quilting attachments), my ironing board is still set up in the kitchen, and the finished placemats are still annoying the holy heck out of me. My favorite part of this kind of project is the actual quilting, and I haven't even gotten that far yet because I am so disgusted with the placemats. Phfft. I'm so mad at myself. I should have known that multi-striped, circus fabric was not my style. What on earth was I thinking?

In an attempt to squelch my annoyance, I ran to the bookstore and purchased this book:

A fellow crafter recommended the book, and when she told me she couldn't put it down, I decided it must be a book worth reading. (Yeah, that's how I base my book selections... on what my peers have to say about a book. Not very scientific, but it works for me.)

I finished The Friday Night Knitting Club over the course of two nights. And I liked it. A lot. It was a story that will stay with me for a very long time, because this is a story about women and their strengths. It is the story about friendships and how differing personalities often make for the strongest ties. It is a story of love and motherhood and forgiveness. And although I wouldn't consider the book to be literary genius, I do consider the story to be one worth reading.

A quote at the top of the book cover sums it up perfectly:

"An absolutely beautiful, deeply moving portrait of female friendship. You'll laugh and cry along with these characters, and if you're like me, you'll wish you knew how to knit."            --- Kristen Hannah, author of Magic Hour

And so there you have it - January days. Nothing earth shattering, but I'm keeping busy and these are the little things that make me smile. Because, really... who can complain about a little snow, a sewing project gone awry, and a good book? In my mind, this is what makes winter what it is - a time to nest and settle in as I anxiously await the arrival of spring.

Time: dawdling, dabbling, distracting... DIGITAL!

I'm guilty of wasting time. Well... maybe not so much wasting it... but abusing it, if that is actually something a person can do with the obscure concept of time - because really... what is time? It's not tangible. It's invisible. It's just there, like ether, floating around the atmosphere. But yet, how we spend each day is dictated by the amount of time we allot to the activities we engage in. And therein lies my problem - I abuse my time because I dawdle and I putter and I become easily distracted, which is not to say that I don't have good intentions, because I do. I wake up with a full agenda, but it's a rare day when that agenda is ever the end result. And I blame that on too many interests. I'd like to say that I have too many obligations, but the truth is - I don't. The only obligations I have are in regard to John's medical appointments and treatments. And those do suck up my time. Additionally, they emotionally wear me out. But that's not the real problem. The problem is that I have a serious lack of direction, because, like I said - I am easily distracted and I have far too many interests.

This is something I'm struggling with because I am unwilling to give up anything. I enjoy my books. I love my yarn. I like playing on the computer. I have an on-going affair with television. I like to sew, and listen to music, and scrapbook, and write. These are the things that make me happy, and to give up any one of them would break my heart. And so in spite my lack of direction and organization, I continue muddle through, attempting to fit it all in on any given day.

Last year, I discovered digital scrapbooking. As a disclaimer, I will state that digital scrapbooking is not something I am good at. I look at the magazines and the on-line galleries, and I honestly laugh out loud at my efforts. But that doesn't stop me from dabbling in the digital because I have found that in spite of my lack of talent, I LOVE DIGITAL SCRAPBOOKING. And because I find such great pleasure in dabbling in the digital world, I am over the moon excited about my new toy - the digital photo frame.

When I received this gift, I was a wee bit insulted as I thought to myself, "what the heck am I supposed to do with this?"

I'd heard about these frames, but had not paid much attention to the hype because I thought they were for those who didn't know how to use Photoshop. Yep. That's what I thought. I figured that they were a way to display pictures for people who didn't know what else to do with their digital photos. And surely that wasn't for me, because (gasp) I am a digital scrapbooker, and I am above plopping my pictures in a frame. My pictures deserve better than that (or so I thought).

I was a snob. A digital scrapbooking snob. And I'm not even good! What was I thinking?

My husband, on the other hand, saw the bigger picture, because what he saw was not a frame where pictures were scrolled. No. He saw an album where the pages were turned and the artistic efforts could be displayed and enjoyed. What he realized, that I had not yet come to know, was that instead of sitting in an obscure and hidden file inside my laptop, the digital dabbling I so greatly enjoy now had a home - a home that is no longer hidden inside a little metal box. Brilliant! And I give him full credit for looking at things in a way I would have never thought of.

So here we go - a sampling of what I've been playing with.

The pictures are a bit blurry because I neglected to change my camera settings from macro to portrait. But the actual pictures on the digital screen are crystal clear - in fact, they make my weak attempts at digital scrapbooking look like artistic genius. And I like that. I like seeing all those dawdled hours right there on the screen. And every time I gaze at this frame, I am rewarded with knowing that my time has not been wasted at all. In fact, I'd go so far as to say my time has been well spent - and that's a good feeling for a person who admittedly wastes hours every day.

What started out as this:

becomes this:

And the bonus is that people actually LOOK at the pictures! My kids are amazed by what I've been doing with my time. They had no idea that I actually do something productive when I sit down and stare at my computer screen for hours on end. And they can't comprehend the fact that my attempts at digital scrapbooking are weak, at best. According to them, I am a wonderful digital scrapbooker. They don't care that my pages are not trendy or cutting edge. They don't care that I didn't come up with the design ideas on my own. All they know is that I took the time to showcase THEM, and in a teenager's world, that's all that really matters.

The specifics for the frame I have are as follows:

• Brand: Philips
• Model: 9FF2M4
• Size: 9 x 6.75 (actual frame); 6.5 x 4.5 (screen image)
• Interchangeable frames
• High pixel density
• Smart Album
• Memory-Card Manager
• Memory: A lot! I have 60 pictures only, plus 32 digital pages stored in my digital frame (the memory is now full)
• Cost: $259 (rebates available - final cost was under $200)
• Files: unlimited file folders can be programmed based upon how the user uploads the pictures from the computer to the frame - meaning the user can program the frame to scroll a specific grouping or subject at any given time. I have a pictures only folder, as well as a digital page folder. I could add a John folder and an Alyssa folder if I were to shuffle my pictures into separate files.

In order to create a digital page specifically for this frame, I set my canvas for 6.60" width by 4.40" height (678 x 438 pixels). Then I designed the page at 300 dpi. The next step in my adventures with framed digital scrapbooking will be to make a few pages at 200 dpi with the purpose of testing whether or not the clarity of the images is compromised on the digital screen. By using lower dpi, less memory will be required and I will be able to store even more pages in the frame.

In addition to creating digital scrapbook pages, I was able to upload some of the storyboards/collages that I have made for the blog. I like those - lots of pictures grouped together to tell a story. And they look good in the digital frame, which means the time I spend creating them is not wasted at all.

The bottom line is that a digital photo frame is a necessity for any digital scrapbooker. Not only does the frame become an album, but the frame also stores the pages that have been so lovingly created. And for someone like me who is not very timely with printing every single page I make, the digital frame becomes more than a place to showcase projects - it is the answer in how to do so.

More often than not, guilt takes over and I beat myself up knowing that I am a hopeless dawdler and I am a sucker for new toys. And yet, in this instance, all guilt has been removed. Who knew when I started to play with my pictures and dabble in digital that there would come a day when my kids would say thank you and my husband would find a way to support my distraction? It's a happy ending to a story I was ashamed to admit existed. And in the end, happy endings are the very best kind.

I've stepped away from the digital frame for a while, and this week I'm sewing... another thing I like to dabble in.

Time Suckers

My New Year's Resolution for 2008 was the same resolution I made for 2007... and for 2006... and for 2005. The resolution is simple: respond to emails in a timely manner. Clearly, this is a resolution I struggle with, because here it is, January 7th, and I'm already failing miserably.

Last year I decided not to open emails unless I had time to respond. Phft... that strategy didn't work at all, as I LOVE getting emails and I couldn't stand not peeking at what people had to say. And so even though I held off reading them for a while, I eventually caved in and read them in one giant read-fest. It was like Christmas, and by the time I was finished reading my mail, there was no time left to reply. So there went that approach. This year, I decided to tackle my resolution using a different method - an approach that involved the reward system. Today it hit me - the reward system is not working at all. Not only is it not working, but I unknowingly set myself up for failure before I began. Case in point: I decided that I would not allow myself to write a blog entry until I caught up on the emails I received in December. Ha! What a joke that turned out to be, because while I continued to procrastinate responding to messages that are now very outdated, more emails began piling up. What is so funny is that the emails I'm now receiving regard one single subject, "Please update your blog." Thus, the reward system backfired in a way I had not considered. The emails are still sitting there, the blog has been sorely neglected, and rather than having a single problem, I now have two. And so it's back to square one for me, because come hell or high water, I am determined to overcome the email dilemma. Anyways... there you have it - Kelly's Guide to New Year's Resolution Failure. I don't suggest following my system because it is severely flawed!

So what the heck have I been doing all these days and weeks that I've been away from the blog? Time suckers... that's what I've been doing. In addition to my parenting duties for John, who is currently fighting some demons of his own, I have been playing with new toys - toys that suck the time right out of the day.

This toy has sucked at least twelve hours out of my life. But it's cute! And I like cute. I also like PINK, so I'm not complaining too much, other than to state that I have no freaking clue how to work this thing.

On December 15th my cell phone died. I didn't drop it. It didn't get wet. It wasn't abused in any way. It just got old and died. It was a sudden death and took me by complete surprise. Since this happened so close to Christmas, I was unwilling to buy a new cell phone until after the first of the year. And so on December 31, I ordered a new phone. It arrived on January 3, and my cost was ZERO! The problem is, I have only owned one cell phone in my life - the one that died. I don't know a darn thing about cell phones. The only thing I know is that I want them to work. And now I know something else: saving numbers to the phone instead of the SIM card is a very, very, very bad idea. I ended up losing over 150 phone numbers when my old phone died. So now I'm starting from scratch. I'm in the process of learning how to use this new phone and hunting down all those numbers, which is taking up a ton of time, and which is also frustrating the heck out of me. Of course, I only discovered the SIM card memory thing AFTER my old phone died, and AFTER I spent an entire afternoon and evening trying to figure out why my new phone was not reading my SIM card. And this explains why it is that I feel old and cranky when trying to figure out new technology.

Last week, as I anticipated success with my NY-Resolution of answering an in-box filled with emails, I was in the process of making a new blog banner for the new year. That was until I received yet another email. This one was in regard to Book Club. YIKES! I had totally forgotten about Book Club, which meant no new banner, no emails answered, no blog entry, but instead a reading marathon because I do not want to get kicked out of Book Club! I read The Boleyn Inheritance in three days (in between watching the America's Next Top Model marathon on VH1 and the bowl games on all the other channels). My thoughts on the book are that I enjoyed it more than The Other Boleyn Girl, but had I not read The Other Boleyn Girl first, I doubt I would have enjoyed this book at all. The Boleyn Inheritance is very much a continuation of the story of the Boleyns and King Henry VIII's rule, and in spite of the "off with their heads" theme, I liked how the story came full circle.

Before I read The Boleyn Inheritance, I was merrily marching along reading this:

John gave me The Dark Materials Trilogy for Christmas because he knew that I was dying to get my hands on these books. I will admit that I enjoy teen literature. There are several reason for this. Namely, I like to know what it is that my kids are reading and discussing. But I also just plain enjoy the genre of teen lit and I often find myself browsing the teen lit aisle at the bookstore. Additionally, these books are highly controversial and I am the kind of person who prefers to form my own opinion before passing judgment on whether or not books should be banned. Okay... that's not true. I don't believe in banning books for any reason. However, I do believe in being educated as to why others wish for books to be banned. In the case of these particular books, I now understand both arguments. I still don't think the books should be banned, but I do respect parents who choose to remove the books from their homes. As for me, the books will remain in my personal library because 1) my kids are old enough to understand that fantasy is just that... fantasy, and 2) my kids are of an age that is well past book censoring. Side-note: I really enjoyed the trilogy... but it did suck a lot of hours to read all three books back-to-back. I became thoroughly caught up in a world of mysterious fantasy where bears can talk and people can move between two worlds. And the time when I should have been doing other things (such as responding to emails) was sucked right out of my life.

Speaking of time suckers, my husband gave me the ultimate time sucker as a Christmas gift. He knows me well, and he knew when he gave me this gift that it would become one of my favorite new toys. But what surprised me is that *I* had no idea I needed one of these things. I've ignored all conversations about them for months. I don't know if that was due to ignorance, or to fear, or maybe even stubbornness... probably a combination of all three, because once again, this is new technology and although it entices me, it also scares me. Therefore, I found myself saying, "That's not for me." And as always, I later stand corrected when I say, "How did I live without this for so long?" The toy I'm talking about is the digital photo frame. Seemingly simple. Seemingly innocent. And seemingly NOT a time sucker. But there's the rub. For a person who dabbles in digital scrapbooking, a digital frame is just another form of a photo album, and when the frame is approached as an album, the concept then takes on a life of its own.

I've got several thoughts and opinions on the digital frame. But since I've overextended this entry, I will save them for another day. Suffice it to say, the digital frame is a big time sucker, but it is honestly one of the most fun toys I've played with in a very long time. And although it's sucked hours from my days, I'm having a blast setting it up exactly how I want it. (More pictures to follow.)

Until then, I'm back to tackling those emails. If you sent me a message, I promise it's been read. What I can't promise is a response date. Just know that I'm making a strong effort to overcome the procrastination issue, and that I love getting emails and I love hearing from you. But those darn replies... I'm blaming the lack thereof on a time sucker, because I'm not kidding when I say that these toys seriously suck up the hours in my days.

Miracles

Last month, Alyssa and I celebrated my birthday by attending an art fair at the expo center in our area. While there, we decided that I needed to find the perfect birthday gift for myself. The picture of the painting in the graphic image above is the selection I made. I've met the artist on numerous occasions in the past and I have several of her pottery pieces scattered about my house. This woman is an inspiration as to the power of positive thinking, and I always enjoy talking with her and hearing about her philosophy, which is to surround yourself with things that are colorful and cheerful because it is these things that cultivate a positive attitude. This year, the artist extended her line by adding canvas paintings. The small canvas was one that I could not pass up. I fell in love with the colors, and I think the sentiment is a perfect reminder that miracles happen every single day; it is up to us to look for them, to see them, and to expect them. I had the canvas framed and it sits on a side table in my kitchen, and every time I look at it, I smile.

People don't talk about miracles very often, but I believe they happen all the time. I also believe that most miracles are never noted as such. People tend to pass miracles off as coincidence, serendipity, or good luck. As I've aged, I've learned that there is much more to coincidence than a matter of chance or good fortune; many coincidences are actually little miracles that touch our lives. And I, for one, am ever in awe of the miracles I've been blessed with.

Today as I was searching for my eyeglasses, I once again looked at the canvas painting that I recently acquired, and again, my thoughts turned to miracles. I love that... I love that this painting reminds me to look for miracles. What a great way to start and end each day! After I found my glasses, I sat down to read my email. The quote I added to the graphic is what I found in my mail. Serendipity? Coincidence? Good Luck? I'll let you decide. As for me, I choose to think of it as a little bit of all those things.

Weekly Rating: Very Bad

If it weren't for the Season 4 premiere of Grey's Anatomy, I do believe I would consider this entire week to be a bust. As it is, I'm hanging on by my fingernails, and the only reason I don't let go is because I keep telling myself there is light at the end of the tunnel (that being a new season of Grey's).

I don't know about you, but I think that my car breaking down in the parking lot of Safeway with a trunk full of groceries (some of which were frozen at one time), a dog fight in my very own kitchen (ending with a little dog that can't move or control her bladder and a big dog that is banned to the kennel), three trips to the doctor's office, a kazillion phone calls to the insurance company, two nights sleeping on the floor by the dog bed, and an entire afternoon spent in the Principal's office at the high school (John made it all of seventeen days this school year before getting sent to see the principal, whereby I ended up being called at home to join him, thus spending three hours of my life defending my son and begging for help from the administration).... I think these things justify rating the week as very bad.

When the guidance counselor at the high school saw me, she said that things could only get better. I'd like to believe her, but I think the only reason she said that was because I was close to tears as I walked into her office looking like something the cat drug home... I had dog fur and dog sick all over me. My shorts had a hole in the seat, and I was wearing an old tee shirt that has "Scrap Girl" printed across the boobs (tacky, to say the least). I had not showered and my legs need shaved. My hair is greasy and my eyes are swollen. My fingernails are chipped and my ponytail was falling out. Needless to say, I did not present myself in the most appealing manner, nor did I look like a mother who had her act together. But, hey! I was there, just as I was summoned, because that's what a mother does - she sets aside all aspects of dignity and vanity and she runs at breakneck speed when her child is in need. So there I was. Take it or leave it. And now I'm home. I still want to cry. But I'm afraid if I let myself do that I will fall apart, and that would mean that I would miss enjoying the one season premiere I have been waiting for all summer long.

Thank God for Grey's Anatomy. At this moment in time, it's all that is keeping me hanging on, because to be quite frank, it's been a very, very bad week.

Tell me how you really feel...

Kelly,

Please, Please, Please update your blog.  Every time I hope something new is on there, all I see is Harry Potter.  Okay, I realize you love the books, but please take a few minutes and talk about your camera, CHA, next weeks road trip, mom being gone, Kenzie’s new hair cut, hell explain that you are a Big Brother junkie, just get rid of Harry.

Love,
Jen

Jen is my sister... I am assuming that she feels she has the right to say what others are probably thinking as well. So, tell me how you really feel? Sick to death of my Harry Potter entry? Admittedly, I am a blog slacker during the summer months.

Keeping that in mind, the abbreviated July update is as follows:

1. My little travel camera broke at CHA and I didn't get one picture the entire trip. Note that this has me up in arms.
2. Prior to CHA, John went on vacation with his best friend's family. He was extremely sick for five days while on the vacation. I spent the entire time afraid that he would end up in the hospital. When he returned home, a huge burden was lifted.
3. Alyssa is becoming a driving fool. She anticipates taking her driver's test before school begins. In the meantime, she is my chauffeur. My blood pressure rises to an unprecedented level when Alyssa is behind the wheel. Not because she's a bad driver (she's not nearly as bad as she once was), but because I am not ready for her to make this final transition from childhood.
4. I finished Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows on Tuesday. I'm now reading it a second time. Did I like the book? I LOVED the book! I now have Post Potter Depression (PPD). Saying good-bye to Harry is like telling an old friend farewell.
5. Jen is right, I'm a Big Brother junkie... darn live feeds - they suck me in.
6. Alyssa and I are going on a road trip next week. We will be touring Virginia colleges. I'm excited for her, but having a hard time accepting the fact that she is a senior and this is the beginning of the end.
7. More on CHA: I had a blast during the after hours (so many friends, so many memories, so much fun), and I am in love with the new Luxe collections. I hope to post some photos soon (photos that were not taken at CHA, but that I will take at home).
8. Summer is super busy, but relatively uneventful. Why is that? Not much happens, thus not much to report.

And that, my friends, is the short version of life in the House of Edge. I will make it a priority to post some summer photos and write a more "Kelly-like" entry in the next day or so. Alyssa and I are going to the outlet mall today - maybe something blog-worthy will happen!

In the meantime, if further proof is required that I am alive, here is a YouTube video that shows me working at CHA last week.

A Change of Attitude

I woke up this morning in a really bad mood. I'm sure my mood had something to do with the ninety-six degree hot and humid day the weather forecasters had predicted, coupled with the fact that shortly thereafter I discovered our air conditioner was leaking. This happened last year, and I still remember how miserable we were while we waited for the A/C guys to come out and fix the problem. Reliving that misery is not something I wish to repeat.

My to-do list for the day was lengthy, and the first item on the agenda was to take Alyssa to Best Buy so she could purchase a new video game for Matt. The game was released today, and according to Alyssa, it was going to fly off the shelves. So off we went to Best Buy at 9:45 a.m. It was 84 degrees when we left. Thirty minutes later, it had reached 90. The air conditioner problem was ever present in the back of my mind as I watched the temperature rise.

And so when Alyssa pulled a "senior attitude" in the car , I was none too pleased. I remember being a senior in high school, and I distinctly remember having a "senior attitude." What I don't remember is acquiring the attitude one week after completing my junior year. Nor do I remember constantly telling my mom that I was old enough to do this, and old enough to do that - referring to things that I most certainly was not old enough to do. Apparently, times have changed, because Alyssa has the attitude BIG TIME. All I can say is she chose a bad day to try it out on me. It didn't fly. But I know this is only the beginning. My hope is that we will find a happy medium during her senior year and that the "senior attitude" will not permeate her otherwise bright personality, because today, her "senior attitude" did nothing to improve my "cranky attitude."

After taking a deep breath and telling myself that Alyssa was just testing her limits and that she still stumbles now and then, and after telling myself that the A/C will either work or it won't, I decided to take a minute to read a bit from the current Guideposts Magazine. Wow. What an inspired decision that turned out to be. As I was leafing through the pages, I came across this brilliant quote - it turned my day around!

"Anger is only one letter short of danger."

I decided right then and there to do everything I could to get rid of my bad attitude and to lose the anger that was building up inside me. Things happen... the weather turns hot, air conditioners conk out, kids test limits. Not every day is going to be a cake walk. That's life. That's what makes the journey interesting. And that's what builds character.

As I thought about this, I realized that the reason I woke up cranky was because I was not looking forward to working around interruptions from two teenagers all day. I've become very spoiled and am used to working in peace and quiet for hours on end - things are different in the summer, and my fear was that I would not be able to give my work the attention it required. But today as I worked with the new Luxe paper and pretties, I made a pleasant discovery: instead of spending the day stressing, I spent the day putzing with the product while I chatted with John. For some reason, John is fascinated with the 1970's, and he is constantly asking me questions about how things were when I was a teenager. Today we talked about music (he loves classic rock, so this is a frequent topic of conversation for us). We talked about clothing styles (he can't get over the fact that girls wore pants that tight!). We talked about classes and grades and teachers (he was shocked when I confessed that I actually received an F in a class when I was a junior). And then we talked about dating and curfews (my least favorite topic of conversation with teens) - all the while, I continued to work on Make and Take project ideas and designing pages. The time flew by, and my stress level was zero all afternoon.

Tonight as I sit down and contemplate the day, I can't get over how much difference one small quote made in my attitude. Had I not read the quote, I may have continued to be cranky throughout the day. And because I was not too happy with Alyssa, and I was freaking out about the air conditioner, and I was stressing like a fool about the CHA projects, I was definitely on the verge of anger, which is just short of danger. I don't want to spend my summer angry - because that truly does cross the line from safe parenting to dangerous parenting. I am not a good parent when I am cranky - my temper is short, my patience are nil, and my coping skills are weak. The quote served not only as a wake up call, but also as a turning point. And when all is said and done, I'm so glad that the D lurking behind the anger was brought to my attention. I caught it in time and my afternoon spent with John included moments that I will cherish for a long time to come. And heck, now that I know "senior attitude" is in the house, I'll be better prepared the next time it rears it's ugly head.

random bits of {life}

Ahem. Tap, tap. Is this thing on? Okay... yeah, I'm here.

Apparently (insert warm fuzzy), there is a small contingent of people who are wondering where I've been and what's going on in my life. So, keeping that in mind (the fact that there are people who actually care what's happening in my little corner of the world), I've decided to take a minute to share the condensed version of my month of June thus far.

The last blog entry indicated that I had laryngitis. Well, the laryngitis was actually bronchitis and pneumonia. It hit when I was in Texas and became increasingly worse as the trip progressed. I marched myself into the doctor the minute my flight landed back home in Virginia. My new favorite doctor (who reminds me of Doogie Howser - how can someone so young be a real doctor?) set me up with some strong antibiotics and promised I would feel better in a week. Pffft. The crud lingered for ten days and it knocked me on my butt. The timing could not have been worse, because the first weeks of June are always a busy time - not only work and travel sort of busy, but also busy for the mother of end of the school year teenagers who seem to think that the entire universe revolves around them (in their mind, they are their own planet, and all other planets depend on the survival of the world in which they inhabit).

So, in a nutshell... here's where I've been this month:

• Arlington, Texas, where I taught six classes and hosted three crops.
• Home in bed, with no voice, meaning I parented via a pass-the-note method.
• The land of Harry Potter... lots and lots of Harry Potter. I've made good use of my sick time and have tackled the entire series. Gotta say - it's even better the third time around!
• Chantilly, Virginia, where I taught four more classes and hosted three more crops - and yes, I stayed in a hotel because even though this convention was on my home turf, the fourteen hour days made it impossible for me to drive back and forth from home to show.

And here I am. Rather boring, if you ask me. Well... the classes and the crops weren't boring, nor has Harry Potter been boring, but life in general has been relatively uneventful considering I've spent most of June in bed or on the road. We did, however, successfully close the door on Alyssa's junior year and John's freshman year at DHS. *Sigh* Time continues to fly, and I can't seem to slow it down to match my pace.

Oh, yeah... there was a prom that happened during my absence. Alyssa had the time of her life, and based upon these pictures, I know that every prom dream she ever imagined came true this second time around. She managed to pull it off without me, and she did so with much grace and great dignity. I could not have been more proud of her. This was the night that I had hoped she would have - she felt like Cinderella and she looked like a princess. Matt's mom took the pictures, and I was once again reminded that it takes a village to raise today's teenagers. I was so thankful that Matt's mom was willing to step in and take over my mothering duties. She did a fantastic job, and I will forever be grateful that we have these pictures for Alyssa to remember her special night.

Which brings me up-to-date. Now we have arrived at Alyssa's birthday week. She started the countdown at the beginning of the month (possibly fearing I would forget the date, as I did forget to mail birthday packages to my sister and my nephew, as well as forgetting my husband's birthday this month - but hey! I remembered Father's Day, so all was not lost). Alyssa has asked for all sorts of BIG things as birthday gifts this year.... things like the new iPhone ($500), and a car (several thousand), and lots of money (she's asking for more than I have to donate to her cause, which goes back to the car). After seeing me do the eye-roll with each and every BIG request, she has scaled back and asked for a trip to visit her Grammy in Washington state this summer. And that is what I think she will get. This is the final summer before she heads off to college; a trip to Grammy's will remind her that she has a very loving extended family who believe in her and who support her in whatever choices she makes in the future. In my mind, a Grammy trip is the perfect gift for my beautiful (almost) seventeen year old girl.

So there you go. Life and all it's randomness is alive and well in the House of Edge. Thank you to all who inquired within while I was absent. And a special thank you to those who took the time to send prayers and well wishes while I was fighting pneumonia. Things are looking up now: school's out, summer is in full-swing, CHA is just around the corner, and I finally have my voice back. And when I stop to consider all I have to be thankful for, I know that life is good in spite of the random nature in which it is served.

Addiction {equals} Passion

I have a somewhat addictive personality. I like to think of my addictions as passions. It's a softer, more gentle approach to defining the things that consume my days. Regardless of the how a person defines it, there are certain things that take over my life at various intervals. Addiction? Passion? You be the judge.

Currently, there are three things that have grabbed my attention. I'm riding the wave, because I have no idea how long it will last. Past history has shown that most of my addictions run their course and don't last forever. That's a good thing, because if my addictions lasted forever, I would have so many addictions that there would not be enough time in the day to feed my habits.

And so with that in mind, I'm going to share the three things that I can't seem to get enough of this summer.

Fountain Soda. For some reason, I have become single minded in my quest to find the perfect fountain coke. I wake up in the morning and begin counting down the hours until I can get in the car and make a fountain soda run. I prefer Wendy's or McDonald's fountain coke, but have discovered that Chick-fil-A will work in a pinch.

In my mind, certain criteria must be met when it comes to finding the perfect fountain soda. One of the most important things is the size and shape of the container. Not only does the container have to be easy to handle, but it also must fit in the cup holder of my car. Additionally, the container must not be slippery. And therein lies the problem. My favorite container shape is the cups that Wendy's uses. But those containers get really sweaty and slippery in hot weather. I don't like that. And although the shape of the McDonald's cups is not my favorite because it is too wide at the base, the McDonald's cups do hold up well in hot weather. I like that. And then there is the Chick-fil-A containers. Styrofoam. Bleck. I don't care for styrofoam - not for my coffee, and certainly not for fountain soda. But on a hot day, there is nothing that compares to styrofoam when it comes to keeping a drink icy cold.

Another thing to keep in mind when selecting the perfect fountain soda is the ice. If the ice is bad, there goes the experience of the fountain soda. Crushed ice... not good. Watery ice... even worse. Big, chunky ice... I don't like that either. Too little ice... not the perfect mix. Too much ice... not enough soda. Squared ice... perfection. Thankfully, most places use square ice, and so I don't have to get worked up about the ice very often.

Straws make a difference too. My preference is the McDonald's straw. They have the perfect opening - nice and wide, allowing for a great, big gulp of soda right from the start. I will go so far as to admit that when I place my order inside McDonald's, I grab extra straws before I leave so that I can stash those in my car to use when I go through the Wendy's or Chick-fil-A drive throughs.

Regardless of the container, or the ice, or the straws, I am currently addicted to fountain soda, and I am passionate in my quest to find the perfect combination. It doesn't matter that I have cases of coke in my pantry. That's not the same... and I won't even begin to discuss cans versus fountain. There is no comparison.

And then there is this: Confessions of a Pioneer Woman.

I believe I might be the last person on the planet to discover this blog. Maybe that's a good thing, because I've spent more hours than I care to admit drooling over The Pioneer Woman's photos - the pictures capture my heart and soul, and are some of the best photos I have ever seen in my entire life. In fact, the night I discovered this blog, I dreamed of stampeding horses.

Since that fateful day, I've spent entire evenings reading about ranch life in Oklahoma. Dare I confess that I want to be her best friend? This blog is far and above the best blog I have ever stumbled across, which is why I am going to pass along the link to anyone who has not yet discovered this amazing site: Confessions of a Pioneer Woman. Be forewarned - it's a time sucker. And if you like recipes, The Pioneer Woman Cooks is the site for you. Alyssa spent over an hour studying the recipes last night. I see Chicken Spaghetti in our near future. Yum.

Hat's off to Ree, the woman who is The Pioneer. My creative juices overflow every single time I open her blog and gaze at her pictures. Inspired does not begin to describe how I feel when looking at her photography and reading about her passion for life. This is one addiction that I plan to fuel for many years to come. 

And finally, there are the Mini Albums. I've been making them for years. But for some reason, I thought that I needed a reason to make them, i.e. a gift, or an important event. I had not yet wrapped my mind around the idea that mini albums were fun to make just because. In fact, I did not grasp the just because concept until I went to Jennifer Moody's house last winter and noticed a huge wicker basket sitting on a beautiful table in her living room. The basket was filled with mini albums. And tucked inside each and every album was a piece of her life. It was at that moment that I fell in love with making minis. And it was then that I decided that mini albums were an absolute must-do class to add to the curriculum I will be teaching this year.

On Tuesday, I head to Dallas to teach the concept and the foundation of the minis I can't seem to get enough of. And although I won't be teaching this particular album in Arlington, I'm excited about the classes we've put together and I'm looking forward to my sixth year of teaching at the Great American Scrapbook Convention.

Here's the thing about addictions: maybe they are not addictions at all... maybe addictions are really an extension of passion, because when it comes right down to it, my passions turn into my addictions, and my addictions define the person I am at that moment in time. Coke-a-cola and me... we go hand in hand. Confessions of a Pioneer Woman... her pictures inspire me and her life delights me. And Mini Albums... pieces of my life are exposed every time I create a little book.

Which leads me to conclude that healthy addictions are perfectly acceptable, because when a person is passionate every day, it becomes the most enjoyable way to live out loud.

Diary of a Crazy Lady

My mom sent me an email today telling me about some technical difficulties she had recently encountered. Namely, her student eligibility had expired and she was unable to log on to the internet site of her college to take her final exam. (How cool is that? My mom is taking online college courses! I am so proud of her.)  Here is a portion of what she wrote:

Okay, now I am in a horrible dither due to the fact I went to my little transcription student log-on program, only to find out that I had been deleted and had to be re-enrolled.  Well, I guess I didn't read the fine print of the contract that talked about one year enrollment.

No charge involved but I have to get going with this extension.  Mainly, I need to coordinate with my librarian who is the proctor for me to take that final. The rest is ready to happen after I do some mighty fast practice on what remains to get done.

I was sick at heart, due to the fact I was afraid I would have to retake the course, after all the work and trouble I have encountered in doing all this, what with traveling and then Norm's setback.

I've come to conclude that everything we do on these computers is a pain in the rear. Today I spent four freaking hours trying to download one single song from iTunes (clearly, iTunes had a problem, because I download music all the time and it has never taken four hours to buy one measly tune). All I wanted was the Up! song from the Shania Twain Up! album. Keeping in mind that I own the CD, and that before I tried to download the song, I spent one full hour searching my house and my car trying to locate the CD - well, suffice it to say, I really wanted that song.

And so off to iTunes I went. While I was logged on to iTunes, I decided just to replace the whole darn album (all for one stinkin' song). And while I was replacing and spending, I decided to have some fun with my crop girls next week and download some dance tunes for them... you know... songs like The Macarena and Cha Cha Slide and The Chicken Dance... silly songs that I can throw in every couple of hours to urge them to stand up and get the wiggles out. The all day crop lasts for ten hours and I am going to be digging deep to entertain a ballroom filled with hard working scrapbookers for ten long hours - the dance tunes are my way of shaking things up a bit.

Anyways, four hours later, I finally had my songs. And that is not accounting for how the rest of my day was spent making a Crop Tunes Playlist on my iPod. The Playlist has 8.7 hours of music on it - which adds up to 185 songs - which means that is how many songs I had to transfer from one place to another. This has been a HUGE project and I am sick to death of it. My goal was to make a 10 hour Playlist, but I'm not going to reach that goal. I am out of songs and out of ideas. I've got Beach Boys songs, and songs from Footloose and Dream Girls and Grease. I've got a ton of country songs, and I added a whole lot of pop and rock music into the mix. 185 songs is a lot of music! Every single song is upbeat and fast - nothing slow, or these croppers will be uninspired. And based on past experience, I have discovered that music can make or break a crop. Therefore, I was very discerning when putting together this Playlist, which is the reason it took so long - I had to listen to at least a portion of each song before it made the final cut.

Good Lord. Is anything ever easy? I just hope the girls in Dallas like the songs I selected for them. If they don't, I will have to refine the Playlist for the Chantilly, VA girls before I host the crop at their event later this month, because I am bound and determined to have a perfect Crop Tunes Playlist before this summer is over. It's become a mission.

So, yeah... I get it. I get that the computer can drive a person bonkers. And I get that when we want it to work, we want it to work. I also get that when we are in the mood, we want to do it now and not later. I am so sorry that my mom is dealing with a mess regarding her enrollment. No wonder she is in a dither. I was dithering like a maniac working with iTunes today. Yep. I definitely get it.

Okay, on to other stuff. John had an infusion today and I screwed up royally. He wanted me to pull him out of school really early so that he would not have to participate in P.E. before he was infused all afternoon. But I wouldn't do that. I made him go to P.E. and then I picked him up. Our temps are in the 90s. We are under a Code Orange Warning (not as severe as Code Red, but the next highest pollution warning there is). Yep, I made him go to P.E. Before his infusion. When I picked him up, he was beat red and sweating like a pig, which translates to extremely overheated and nearly dehydrated.

When Nurse Debbie arrived, she took his blood pressure. It was low. Very, very low (as in 80 over 52). She made him drink a giant jug of Gatorade and then she took his BP again. It was up, but not yet at his normal pressure. She added an IV bag of saline solution (I think that's what's in those bags) and dripped that into him. She later told me that his blood pressure was almost too low for her to give him the infusion. If the Gatorade and IV bag would not have helped bring the BP up, she would have had to reschedule. As it was, the infusion took longer than it usually does because she had to infuse into the vein much slower than standard procedure to insure that John's BP remained stable. To say that I felt bad is an understatement. John kept saying, "I told you so, I told you so, I told you so." He was so smug and smart about the whole P.E. thing. My bad. My bad, bad, bad.

And that, my friends, is the accounting of my day in a nutshell.

You have got to be kidding me.

Oh my gosh! What is up with these pants?

Every so often, I receive what I call Dream Girl catalogs in the mail. These are the catalogs sent to me by designers and manufacturers that I often dream of buying from, but have never done so due to budget purposes. Tiffany & Co. sends me a Dream Girl catalog every holiday season, but then, I've purchased gifts from them, so that makes sense. Mercedes sends me a Dream Girl catalog once a year, which totally surprises me considering I have never stepped foot in a Mercedes dealership. Gucci sends me Dream Girl catalogs sporadically. I suppose the reason is that fifteen years ago, I purchased a coin purse at a clearance sale. There are countless big name companies that have me on their mailing lists. How these places get my address is beyond me. All I know is that these catalogs keep showing up in my mail.

Regardless of the how or the why, I have come to love my Dream Girl catalogs because when I look at them I like to think about what it would be like to be a millionaire with an unlimited amount of money to spend on designer clothes and cars. This is a great source of entertainment - it breaks up the monotony from the fliers and brochures that fill my mailbox every day of the week. Those are actually useful... what fun is that? Plus, I think it is good for the soul to dream every now and then. These catalogs are a fun way to visit another place and time. And even though it is all a fantasy, I find it to be a really good way to clear my mind of the everyday mundane that is so much a part of being a mother (i.e. meals, laundry, homework, curfews, etc., etc., etc.).

Today I received a Dream Girl catalog from Lilly Pulitzer. I love her clothing. The styles are classic and timeless. I think it is the flowers motifs that draw me to her lines - the bright floral prints take classic and timeless styles and funk them up a bit. Whatever it is about her designs, I am always happy when a new Lilly catalog shows up at my house. I consider the pages to be eye candy for the soul.

This afternoon, I took a minute to sit outside on the porch so that I could thoroughly enjoy my new catalog. As I was leafing through the pages, I was once again dreaming of lawn parties and soirees... just letting my mind wander and my pretend world evolve.... when all of a sudden, I turned the page and saw the pants shown above. What in the world is up with that? I had to look again. And then I looked again. And then I ran into the house and showed Alyssa. I asked her if paisley and fish patterned men's pants were now considered fashionable, because [in her mind] Alyssa is the foremost expert on fashion and upcoming trends - who  better to ask? Her immediate reaction was a gasp, and then a giggle, and then a, "What the heck are you looking at?" When I told her it was the new Lilly Pulitzer summer catalog, she gasped again, and then she informed me that clearly Lilly had gone mental.

All I could think about was that I felt downright sorry for the male models who had to pose wearing these pants. How humiliating. And I cannot believe that large paisley print or giant lime green fish swimming on a sea of fuchsia is now considered fashionable design for men's slacks. Give me a freaking break. If this is what men's fashion is coming to, I'm going to have a hard time not laughing out loud in public places. Talk about over the top... this blows the top clear to Mars.

So tell me, would you let the man in your life wear these slacks? Additionally, is it just me, or are these pants as hideous as I'm making them out to be? I think in all the years I've been a fashion watcher, I have never seen anything as horrendous as these slacks.

I'm taking Lilly Pulitzer off my Dream Girl list. She blew it. And if I ever come across a million dollars, I will not be in the least bit tempted to buy her clothing line, because really... it looks as though she may be moving away from the timeless classic styles that she is so well known for. All I see here is a ghastly trend. Let's hope it doesn't take off, because if and when it does, I will not be allowing my son to wear this style. How could I? I'd die laughing.

Crazy Busy

May. The month I look forward to all year. And the reason is simple - May means one thing: May Sweeps, that time of year when all my favorite televisions shows build upon the excitement of the television year to culminate in the season ending grand finales. So many shows... so little time. What's a girl to do? I've got the TiVo set. I've got the television in the kitchen dusted and ready to watch any overlapping shows in real time. And I've got my remote control at my side, just waiting to rewind, review, and re-watch everything that tickles my fancy. I'm ready. Let the fun begin!

In addition to several hours of viewing pleasure, it's Book Club week. I haven't read the book though, due to a weird self-imposed rule I have of never reading more than one book at a time. For as long as I can remember, once I begin a book or a series, I will not interrupt the flow of the story to read something else, regardless of whether that something else is for book club or not. For the past month, I've been reading the Earth's Children Series by Jean M. Auel. This is the seventh time I've read these books (because I love the series that much), and they are long books - thousands and thousands of pages in this series. These are books to be savored and enjoyed, not books to be rushed through and skimmed. I thought I'd have them done in time to squeeze in my book club book, but alas, that was not to be. And so this month I will show up unprepared and thoroughly lost as we have our monthly meeting of the minds.

And then there are the classes I'm working on. Writing and designing classes is one of my favorite parts of the business. It is also one of the things I struggle with most, because I am always hyper-sensitive to the fact that I am preparing material to present to scrapbookers who have taken time out of their busy lives to take a class. People who have high expectations. People whom I so greatly want to please. That's a tall order, and so I always approach writing classes with a great degree of seriousness. This week, I am putting the finishing touches on the classes I will be teaching for Luxe this June at The Great American Scrapbook Convention in Arlington, Texas, and Chantilly, Virginia. I'm to the nitty-gritty part now... the part that can take class from being okay, to taking the class to being WOW! I always pray for a WOW class, and I'm hoping that the WOW factor is with me this week as I work and rework the classes trying to get them just right.

And finally, the big event: it is Prom Week at my house. On Saturday, Alyssa will attend the first of two proms - his and hers. This weekend she and Matt will attend the prom for Matt's school. He's a senior, and this is it for him. They are both flying high with anticipation as they anxiously await the big night. We've got the dress (we are actually on the second dress because the first dress was unalterable). We searched high and low for jewel bedazzled silver shoes, and we finally found the perfect pair. The appointment for the french manicure has been made. Today we bought new make-up and purse personals (you know, the breath mints, the tiny compact, the lip gloss, the small spritzer of perfume - those little things that make all the difference in the world). On Wednesday, she has her first hair appointment - the one that includes trim and a color retouch. On Saturday she will return for the actual up-do appointment. And then on Saturday evening, her Prince Charming will come and sweep her off her feet, and off they will go to a night that high school memories are made of.

Whew. Deep breath. Sit back. Relax. There's a lot of behind the scenes work that goes into getting a daughter ready for the prom. Thus far, there has only been one little glitch in the ordeal... the bra. What a pain in the rear. I am bra shopped out, and we still don't have a bra. I keep telling her to skip the bra because the dress has built in cups. But no. She will not even consider skipping the bra. So that means we still have more bra shopping in our future (and time is running very short). I am keeping my fingers crossed that Victoria's Secret all of a sudden revealed a new design this spring, because if nothing new has been released in the past two weeks, we are out of luck, and that means I will have one pissy little missy on my hands.

I came across this quote in Guideposts Magazine this morning. I thought it perfectly summed up what I hope this week will be as I help Alyssa prepare for the night of her teenage dreams:

"Each day of our lives, we make deposits in the memory banks of our children."
                                                                                                          -Charles Swindoll

And so it goes in the House of Edge. It's a crazy busy time of year. It's been said that busy people are the most productive people. I'm hoping that is true, because I really don't have any time to spare this week - not if I'm going to complete two classes, send a daughter off to the prom, and still squeeze in all those hours of television that I have planned.

odd, wierd, quirky, unique... it's all the same to me

Wendy told me I could blame this entry on Jessica,  but I've not known Jessica as long as I've known Wendy, so this one is all Wendy's doing.

Here's how it goes: six random weird facts about myself. Any topic. Any category. Just six things. Gotta tell you - I had a hard time coming up with six odd facts that I have not shared with the world, because when all is said and done, my life is pretty much an open book. Everyone who knows me is aware that I stay up all night long, and that I love to take naps. Lots of people know that I forget to eat, sometimes for entire days at a time. My friends are well aware that I am overly anal about organization and details (it annoys the heck out of them). I have openly admitted that I am addicted to television, and that reality t.v. is my downfall. I am constantly writing about the parenting challenges that I face, and often fail. I have confessed that my son is a teenage rebel, and that in spite of his rebellion I adore him. People know that I'm a mamma's girl, and that I miss my mom every single day of my life. And then there are the things that I would never in a million years write about on a public forum, because some things are not open for discussion, and I really do need to keep a few secrets about myself. So what does that leave me? Not a whole heck of a lot.

Keeping in mind that by nature I am weird to begin with, here are six more things that add to my already quirky self.

1. I have not had a glass of milk since John turned one. That is fifteen years without milk. I hate milk. It makes me gag. I only drank it while I was pregnant and nursing because that is what the doctor told me to do. I do, however, love milkshakes and ice cream.
2. I refuse to wear sandals if my toenails are not painted, and I am rarely without nail polish on my fingers. I feel naked without polished nails.
3. I get the hiccups when I am stressed, and I get hives when I am scared. I had the hiccups for three weeks following 9-11, and I had hives last week before I boarded the plane to Detroit.
4. I have never tasted a Skittle or a Peep. The crunch-squish of Skittles does not appeal to me (and I know they crunch-squish because I've stepped on one before). Peeps actually give me the creeps.
5. I am one of the luckiest people I know. Good things happen to me, and I win things all the time. This has been happening my entire life.
6. I am blind as a bat. I have to wear prescription glasses over my contacts when I drive. And when I am teaching, I can't see anyone in the class. When I travel, I can't read the signs in the airport, so I constantly have to ask people for directions. My poor eyesight has caused me to walk into men's rooms more times than I can count.

So there you have it - six oddities that make me uniquely me. My kids think the Skittles thing is just insane. Alyssa swears by the sandal rule, and she follows it as strictly as I do. No one questions my aversion to milk because it's been so long since I've had any that it would be shocking if that were to change now. If I had a bit more courage, I would have laser surgery to correct the eye problem. But that's another weird thing about me - I will never let someone mess with my eyes. The hiccups and hives are a dead give away as to how I am feeling - sort of like blushing. And now that I've announced that good luck follows me, I've more than likely jinxed my winning streak forever.

In order to follow the rules of this tag game, I get to pass it along to some of my friends. Since it all goes back to Jessica, I am pretty sure that everyone will be willing to play along. I mean, really... who doesn't love Jessica? Amy, Angela, and Robyn... YOU'RE IT!

Late Night Commentary

I am an afternoon and evening tea drinker. Now that the weather is warming up, I decided to stock up on fruity teas for the season. Apple & Cinnamon is nice. Perfect Peach is light and refreshing. Orange & Spice is my personal favorite. But this new Pomegranate Pizzazz... well, it is awful - absolutely disgusting. Unfortunately, after my shopping trip I am now the proud owner of one box of 19 tea bags that will never be used (I tried one, and poured it out after the first sip). I don't even think this stuff would make a good sun tea. The next time I stock up for the season, I am going to stick with my old favorites, because clearly I am not ready for a trendy change when it comes to tea.

I have a crush on Apollo Anton Ohno. I realize that I am old enough to be his mother, but every time I see him, I find myself catching my breath and eyeballing his fine physique. It doesn't matter if he is skating or dancing - either way, I like watching the man do his thing. There is just something about a finely toned athlete who has a little bit of bad boy image that makes my heart go pitter patter. Watching Dancing with the Stars this season has become one of my guilty pleasures because I really like how he moves.

The credit card bill arrived in the mail yesterday. This has caused quite a brouhaha in my house, because although I knew the bill was going to be rather high this month, I guess I neglected to mention that to the bill payer. He was not too happy. In fact, he is throwing a big fit. And that makes things around here very uncomfortable. I told the kids not to say the words mall or shopping for at least one week. We three are going to lay low until the bad vibes go away. But here's the deal: the current statement has charges from John's birthday, it was used to buy prom dresses and accessories (yes, two formal gowns - one is going back). I took Alyssa to Tysons Corner a few days ago, and she and I splurged just a tad. And then of course, the current statement includes several trips to Target. For some reason, Target has always been my go-to place when I need retail therapy. I've been doing that for years. Why, all of a sudden, does this come as a surprise? I don't get that. And what I really can't understand is why this man still does not realize there are teenagers in the house. Has he not figured out that teenagers cost a fortune? Does he not get the fact that there are a handful of months each year that cost more than others? August is an expensive month because of back to school shopping. December is an expensive month because of Christmas shopping. And with kids, April is an expensive month because of spring clothes (they do grow, ya know?) and now prom. There's no way around it - it's been like this forever. Okay... the prom thing is still kind of new, but still... we had a big bill last year at prom time... I remember... because he threw a fit then too. But for some reason, the man has yet to figure out this law of parenting. No matter how patiently I explain it to him, he doesn't get it. And so we are all walking on egg shells. I will admit... this has me irritated, and I rarely get irritated over this stuff because I learned a long time ago to let things go. But this time around, my patience seem to have disappeared. *sigh*

Sometimes a girl just has to rant - tonight was one of those times. The tea thing really bugged me. The Apollo Anton thing makes me feel kind of old. And this credit card statement situation has me steamed. So there you go... I deviated from my normal entry style and showed my true colors. By tomorrow, I will be fine. In the meantime, I'm going to watch last week's episode of Lost, because to be completely honest, Sawyer makes me feel the same way that Apollo Anton Ohno does.

{the happiest place on earth}

Ten years ago I made my first scrapbook page, and at that moment, I discovered my passion. At the time, I had no idea what this passion would lead to. All I knew was that I had stumbled across something that helped me define the woman I wanted to be. And if someone would have told me all those years ago that someday I would travel the nation sharing my passion with others, I would not have known what to do with the thought, because back then, people didn't travel to teach women to play with paper and pretties. Back then, only a handful of people were involved in the industry that has become known as scrapbooking. Back then, all I wanted to do was play with my paper and pretties and make a few friends along the way. Back then, I had no idea that playing could be so much fun, and I had no clue that by doing so, I was beginning the journey of a lifetime.

What I discovered on that fateful day, was that for the first time in my life, I was excited about something new and different - something that was a perfect fit. In the years since then, my passion has continued to grow, and my love of this craft has become consuming. And best of all, I have made hundreds of friends along the way. This thing called scrapbooking defines me, because it is when I am creating that I am best able to express myself. But even more than the creativity process, I have learned that it is when I am sharing my passion with others that I am most fulfilled. This hobby has become a lifestyle. And I truly can't imagine a day without paper and pretties.

So many opportunities have presented themselves since I pasted my first picture on a piece of paper, and I consider myself to be one heck of a lucky girl, because today I am living my dream, and this road that I am on is better than I ever imagined. Last week, I traveled to Detroit with Luxe to teach mini classes at CKU. Wow! CKU. I've attended as a student before, but I've never been on the other side. I've gotta admit, being on the other side is every bit as fun as attending as a student. There is just something about CKU that makes me smile. I call it Disneyland for Scrapbookers. My first experience teaching at CKU was nothing like I expected it to be - it was better... not scary at all! CKU is truly the happiest place on earth. It's a playground for grown ups. And at the end of the day, that's about the best thing a girl could ask for.

The Ache

The mood in Virginia is somber. The killings on the Virginia Tech campus have shaken us to the core and we are a state that is grieving. My heart aches as the news brings more terrible details to light. This hits so close to home. And now we find out that the gunman went to high school not far from my town. My kids play sports at that high school. That is too close for comfort, even for a bizarre and senseless crime.

Alyssa is understandably upset. Some of the fallen students were close to her age. Her friends have siblings at Tech. Additionally, VT is located fifteen miles from the college she wants to attend. So  yeah, she's upset. Last night, she asked if she could stay home from school today. She told me she was scared. After I tried to assure her that her school was safe and that she had nothing to fear (did I lie?), she went to bed where she tossed and turned all night.

Knowing that I was unable to take away her fear literally broke my heart, and I, too, was tossing and turning. Not surprisingly, I did what I usually do when a national crisis occurs: I stayed up all night glued to the television, trying to learn every fact and detail available. Today I have thought about why I do this, because clearly it is not healthy. After much consideration, I have concluded that the reason I feel compelled to watch every minute of news coverage is because I believe that knowledge is power, and when something as horrendous as a college campus massacre occurs, I feel helpless. The one thing that I can control is the amount of information I learn about the event. I can't control anything else... but I can control what I learn, and for some reason, that helps me makes sense of senseless acts.

After staying awake all night, I found myself to be very emotional this morning. I tried to watch the morning news programs, but that was more than I could bear. This event is so horrendous that I think maybe there is no sense to be made at all; we will never be satisfied with the answers as to why this man shot more than 60 people and killed thirty two of his victims. And regardless of the facts that are learned, our country will always mourn the loss of life that occurred on the campus of Virginia Tech. Sometimes, bad things happen and the only thing we can do is move on, which is not to say the event less heinous, but rather the event is such that no matter what information is gained, nothing will erase the pain or take away the evil act.

And so it was that I grabbed my car keys and drove to the bookstore this afternoon. The bookstore is my breath of fresh air. Walking along the aisles and gazing at books filled with millions of words gives me comfort. Touching the spines of hardbacks, reading the author's names perfectly alphabetized, looking at shelf upon shelf of books categorized by genre and subject, the scent of coffee wafting from the cafe, the sound of pages turning, a mother shushing her child... it is these things and more that offer peace of mind when I am in a bookstore. Books pay tribute to the living and to the dead because it is in those pages that their stories are told. Maybe that is why I was compelled to go there today. I don't know... I just know that I felt better after spending two hours walking amid the books. My ache is still strong, but the pain seems more bearable.

Tomorrow I leave for Detroit. I'll be away from home for less than 48 hours. And yet tonight I feel as though I am abandoning my children in their time of need.  And I feel guilty for leaving the state of Virginia during this time of mourning. I know that life must go on, because after all, life is for the living, and the pain that we feel makes us aware of how very fragile life is. Maybe the ache means that the wound is beginning to heal. Or maybe... I am just numb.

Campus Nightmare: The State of Virginia in Mourning, A Nation in Shock

Tonight my heart is heavy, and it is aching over the senseless loss of life that occurred on the campus of Virginia Tech today. I pray for the families and I pray for the surviving students. I mourn with my state. And I am in shock with our nation. This is Columbine all over again. And even though our nation has come together in grief before, it doesn't make it any easier to do so again. In some ways, it is even more difficult this time because we remember... we remember Columbine. We remember the Amish children in Pennsylvania. We remember when someone takes a gun into a classroom and opens fire on our youth. And the fact that this happened again, makes me sick. And it scares me, because schools are supposed to be safe havens for our children. But the truth of the matter is - schools are not safe. Mass shootings seem to occur in schools more than anywhere else in our nation. And I hate that. I hate knowing that schools are every bit as dangerous for our children as riding in fast cars and doing drugs. When did that happen? How did that happen? Why did that happen?

As the mother of teenagers, I want answers because my teenagers are asking me questions. They turn to me for comfort. They expect me to know why this happened. They want me to be able to provide some sort of explanation that will alleviate their fear. But I can't give them answers, because I don't have answers to something as senseless as murder. I want to know why as much as they want to know why.

And what makes me sad is that this event has opened dialog with my children - dialog that I am not prepared for; questions that I had not previously considered. My teenagers have asked me who to text message for help if this happens when they are at school: do they text me, or do they text the police? And how, exactly, does a person text the police? Does 911 accept text messages? These are valid questions - questions I don't have answers to. Additionally, we discussed how to dive under a desk, and where the safest place in a classroom would be. They asked about jumping out of windows and hiding in closets. They are concerned about living in dorms on campus when they go to college. They want to know if morning classes are more dangerous than afternoon classes. They asked where to hide in a cafeteria and where to hide in a library. They asked questions about what to do if their cell phone doesn't work. They asked who to call if they couldn't reach me. They have asked me hundreds upon hundreds of questions - some of which I have answers for, but most that I don't. And that's sad. It is sad that my kids are forced to think of these things. When I was a teenager, thoughts like this never entered my mind. I lived in my own safe world, doing my own safe thing, without ever a concern about whether or not I would survive. I never thought about guns or shooters. I didn't know what the word terrorism meant. I was oblivious to anything that was frightening or scary because back then, schools were safe, our nation was safe, and we lived in a [false] utopia of security.

Not anymore. And that makes me sad. And so I find myself asking why. That's all... just why?

I'm still here

Humph. Seems as though I have nothing to write about lately. In a nutshell, I am boring. What surprises me is that there are still people who read this blog, in spite of the fact that I have fallen off the update bandwagon. And what surprises me even more, is that those people actually want to know about the nothingness in my life. So for the handful of people who are still out there... this one's for you - random thoughts that are bouncing around in my brain:

• What is up with this weather? I'm tired of the cold and I'm not in the mood for snow. Please pass spring immediately.
• Last week I had food poisoning. It knocked me on my butt for days. I don't remember ever getting that sick so quickly. It has taken me a full week to get back on my feet.
• Due to said food poisoning, I was unable to make the trip to the District to see the cherry blossoms. I am so disappointed that I missed the festival.
• Teenagers baffle and confuse me. John's latest desire is to shave his head. Stay tuned, because the plan is to cut the curls off this afternoon. I pick my battles, and this is one that I am unwilling to fight (it's only hair, after all, and it will grow back eventually). I will, however, admit that I am going to miss his blond curls, and that I have serious reservations about how John will adjust to the change. My guess is that he will want a do-over.
• Don Imus <--- the man disgusts me. I am not only appalled by his comments regarding the Rutgers girl's basketball team, but I am also deeply offended. There is no excuse for anyone in our society saying something so utterly degrading and insulting about women. As a female, and as the mother of a teenage daughter, nothing less than firing will appease me, and even that will not do much to repair the damage he has wrought.
• I am drawn to reality television due to an odd fascination with watching how other people live their lives and handle adversity. But I often feel guilty when I catch myself getting lured into yet another season of The Bachelor, Dancing With The Stars, America's Next Top Model, and The Amazing Race - not to mention my longtime addiction to Survivor and American Idol. At times, I feel like a voyeur, and still... I can't seem to get enough of people who open their lives for the world to see. Would this be considered a character flaw? My guess is that the answer is yes.
• Last week my kids were on spring break. Because I had food poisoning during the first part of their vacation, the holiday turned out to be a bust. By the end of the week, Alyssa was in a snit because of the boredom factor. Not only was she in a snit, but she was not her usual cheerful self at all. In fact, she was short tempered, moody, and downright cranky for days. By the end of the week, I could not stand her bad mood one second longer, and so I offered to take her to Target. Would this be considered a bribe? Because, even if shopping falls into the bribery category, it worked like a charm - she was happy the remainder of her break.
• Some people have comfort food - I have comfort books. These are the books that I turn to when I feel as though my life is out of control. And just as certain foods offer comfort and stability in times of need, my favorite books offer me the same sense of serenity. Currently, I am reading a series that I first read in the 80s. This is my seventh time reading these books. They are like old friends, and they have helped me step away from the everyday as I enter another place in time. I love books even more than I love music and television - and that is saying a lot!
• My kids have medical/dental/counseling appointments every single day this week. I have discovered that time spent in waiting rooms are good opportunities to talk to Alyssa and John about thing they otherwise would not discuss. For some reason, waiting rooms cause them to drop their guard and open their hearts. I have begun to cherish the time I spend with my kids while waiting for their appointments.
• Next week I am going to do something I swore I would never do: teach at CKU. Grant it, the class is only a 30 minute class, and I will be teaching the same material eight times throughout the day... but still... I swore I would never teach at this event, and the reason is simple - too scary. I guess this could be considered stepping out of my comfort zone. That, or a nightmare.
• And finally, no one in my house wants me to take their picture. I have not used  my camera for over a week. First came the food poisoning, then came the snow, and then came the lack of subject matter. And so I finally had to resort to taking pictures of my dogs. This one makes me laugh out loud. Misty usually runs and hides when the camera comes out, but on this day, she was very curious as to what I was doing. Maybe because I was laying on the floor when I took the shot?

~*~ a celebration of spring ~*~

It's my very favorite time of year - Cherry Blossom Time. The cherry blossoms never last long, and they bloom at different times each year, but as soon as they appear, I know that winter is gone and sunshine and warmth are not far away. The cherry blossoms are fickle - sometimes they bloom at the end of March, sometimes they bloom during Easter, and sometimes they don't bloom until mid-April. And so every spring I play a guessing game of when the trees will begin to blossom. And every year, I anxiously await sighting the first buds. This has been one of my greatest joys of living in northern Virginia. I have fallen in love with the cherry blossoms.

Last week I was in Boston. It snowed six inches while I was there. The snow took me by surprise because I'm in cherry blossom mode, and I was not prepared for winter to reappear. When I returned from my trip up north, I noticed that the branches of the cherry trees had begun to swell. They were filled with little tiny buds just waiting to burst. Exciting stuff for a cherry blossom girl. And so all this week, I've been on the lookout for the first blooms. By mid-week, they finally began to appear! After a long winter of looking at the dull, brown landscape, I could not resist walking outside and looking at nature's splendor close up. Every year, I take pictures of the cherry trees, because I am truly amazed at the wonder of spring, and for a girl who loves color, spring is the time when the world turns from stark muted brown to a rainbow of hues that transform the landscape into a world of vivid color and brilliance. How could I not love spring?

I took these pictures yesterday, in celebration of spring and in honor of John's birthday. I used my new little Canon PowerShot SD900 camera set on macro mode. The pictures are unedited. The sky was actually that blue. And the tiny petals on the blossoms were truly as transparent and delicate as they appear in the photos. The tree that I photographed is in my front yard. It always intrigues me how the deep pink of the buds turn to a pale shade of blush when the blossoms burst. I tried to capture the various shades of pink in these pictures. (Double click on the collage to see an enlarged view of the blossoms.)

Next week my kids will be on spring break. The timing of spring break always coincides with the National Cherry Blossom Festival, and for some reason Mother Nature likes to pour rain and blow wind during spring break. Once that happens, the cherry blossoms will be gone. It only takes one windy or rainy day for the blossoms to fall from the trees, and if we don't take the time to appreciate the beauty of the blossoms before the rains come, another year will pass until the trees bloom again. Like I said, cherry blossom time doesn't last nearly long enough - only about a week. I'm hoping to take the Metro to the District on Monday so that I can walk along the tidal basin and see the original cherry trees in full bloom. If the weather report remains true, Monday will be the official day the trees reach their peak. The National Cherry Blossom Festival marks the beginning of a two-week long celebration of the cherry blossoms and the commencement of spring in Washington. This year is the 95th year anniversary of the trees. In 1912, Japan gave our country 3,000 cherry trees as a gift of friendship. Those trees are now considered national treasures. To see them in full bloom and in all their splendor is a sight to behold, and I really hope my kids agree to accompany me on my adventure.

Yes, I love spring. And Cherry Blossom Time is my personal celebration of the season.

the man who would become my step-dad

The first time I met the man who would become my step-dad, I was in the middle of a raging war with my brother. We were teenagers, and we were fighting over music - whose music could be played the loudest, to be exact. My brother was blasting his music from a clock-radio hooked up to giant stereo speakers. I was trying to blast my music from a little tiny stereo. Our bedrooms were side-by-side and neither one of us could outplay the other without blowing out our speakers and so we turned our tunes up as loud as we dared and then pounded on the walls yelling at each other to "turn down the music." This was the never-ending battle of the bands as we knew it in my home. It was not a new battle, nor was it a battle that could be won. In fact, it was a battle that had become so much a part of our daily lives that we didn't stop to consider what those who were not participating in the war must have thought. And so when the man who would become my step-dad entered the war zone, I'm sure he must have wondered what kind of world he had walked into... because as he entered the neutral zone of our battlefield, I stormed out of my brother's bedroom and slammed the clock-radio onto the floor, where I then proceeded to stomp it to smithereens. And there stood the man who would become my step-dad with a look of utter disbelief on his face. This is how I met Norm. He became my step-dad the following year.

The battle of the bands is long over, and many years have passed since I threw the mother of all fits (something my family still talks about every time we get together), and what we all find hard to believe is that in spite of seeing me and my brother in all our [ugly] glory, Norm still chose to marry our mom. Wow! What a guy. He actually knew what he was getting into, and still he chose to become a part of our lives. And because Norm has loved us unconditionally from the very beginning, we have loved him the same. In fact, we love him as our father, and we would have it no other way. He is the man we look up to and he is the one we turn to in times of trouble. For all these years, he has been there for us, through the good and the bad - he's there.

This week, Norm was diagnosed with prostate cancer. We are devastated. It is shocking for me and my siblings to consider a day in our lives without our Poppy. He has become our father. He is our constant. He takes care of our mom. And now he has cancer. I hate cancer. I hate what it does to families. I hate what it does to lives. I hate it with every fiber of my being. Because, as I've said before, cancer is a monster. It is a silent beast that quietly devastates a body and robs people of everything simple and mundane.

I don't even know what to say to my mom to offer comfort. Her world has been rocked to the core, and I don't know what to say. And that makes me sad. I want to take away her fear. I want to ease her pain. I want to tell her that it will be all right. But I can't do that, because those words would be filled with empty promises. What I really want to do is get on an airplane and fly home. I want to be there with her sitting in waiting rooms hoping for good news. I want to hug her. I want to let her cry. And I want to hold her hand as she does. And I want to see Norm. I want to talk with him about sports and books and all the other things he and I like to debate. I want to watch him feed the birds and scare away the raccoons. I want to watch television with him and hear him cuss about the stupidity of the government. What I really want is for things to go back to how they were last week. Last week we felt safe and secure. Last week, all was right in our world. Not this week. Not anymore. And that sucks. It just sucks.

And so now we wait. We wait for more tests. We wait for more opinions. We wait for more news. We wait and we wait and we wait.

I hate cancer.

from not so good, to good, to better, to best

The not so good: Technology and me. Not a good combination. When my toys don't work, I get cranky. All of a sudden, my laptop has begun to act up whenever I open the PSE program. For some reason, this is affecting my Yahoo mail and I've been receiving month old emails for the past week. How PSE and Yahoo are connected is beyond me. All I know is that I've got a problem and I need to figure it out.

The good: Let there be light! Our temperatures finally warmed up and I was able to open my curtains this morning. Additionally, after one full week of canceled classes due to the ice storm, the schools reopened today and my kids were able to go back to high school. We were all experiencing a bit of cabin fever, so the change in temperatures is very welcome.

The better: Because I woke up to bright light and warmer temps, I found a burst of energy that has been sorely lacking for the past several days. My creative juices are stirring and I feel a lot of productivity coming on. The timing for this couldn't be better because later this week I'll be heading off to Dallas to meet with team Luxe.

The best: This is my mom's birthday week. Thankfully, her gift was ordered via the internet, meaning the ice storm didn't keep me from getting to the post office. Unfortunately, due to the storm, I did not get a card mailed to her. But that doesn't mean mom's birthday hasn't been on my mind.

Because it is mom's birthday, I've spent the past several days thinking of her and reminiscing about my childhood. And as I've walked down memory lane, I was reminded of one thing: I had an idyllic childhood. Growing up on a farm offered a lot of opportunities to have fun, and my mom made sure that her kids experienced every aspect of country living to it's fullest potential. Some things I remember from my youth:

I can still clearly see my mom's face lighting up when we asked her if we could ride the horses, because riding horses was something she liked to do too. Five, ten, fifteen mile treks were her idea of a great ride.

I remember her packing a picnic lunch every single summer afternoon as we would don our swimsuits and head off to Peck's Pond or Reber's River to spend lazy days playing on inner tubes and splashing on the shore until it got too dark to play any longer.

I remember mom bottle feeding baby calves and mucking out stalls.

I remember her crocheting rugs and canning vegetables.

I remember her saying, "I love you," and "you are beautiful," every single day I was a child.

I remember that bookmobile day was like a holiday because for my mom, it was an event to head off to the library on wheels. If I close my eyes, I can easily recall her standing in line with an armload of books and I can still see her sitting at the kitchen table reading those books early in the morning - something she does to this very day.

I remember hearing the hum of the sewing machine late at night and seeing new clothes laid out on the ironing board the next morning. Mom loved to sew more than anything else on earth.

Each of these memories make me smile. And as I look back, I realize that it was because of my mother's zest for life that my childhood memories are so cherished and treasured.

As I have thought about my mother and silently celebrated her life this past week, I remembered something that I hadn't thought of for years. This childhood memory pretty much sums up my mom in all her glory:

When we lived on the farm, there came a time when my brothers decided they couldn't live without motorcycles. Since we owned a few acres, there was a lot of space for them to envision riding those bikes, and it was only natural for country boys to want country toys. My brothers begged and begged for the motorcycles. My mom, believing that life is for living, was all for it, because she knew that if you keep kids busy, kids stay out of trouble.

Eventually, the boys and my mom talked my dad into getting a motorcycle. They started out with a Honda 50 and soon worked up to Yamaha 80s and 100s and even 250s, which left that little Honda 50 sitting in the tool shed. It didn't take long for my mom to decide that riding the Honda 50 might be fun. And so wearing a borrowed helmet as she revved up the engine... off she went! I still remember standing there in my ten year old disbelief as I watched my mother ride a motorcycle.

Not long after her first spill (and yes, she fell off several times before she got the hang of how to shift the gears and turn the corners), mom could be found tooling around town on that little Honda. In addition to riding the motorcycle to the grocery store and to the post office, she would ride that motorcycle to and from church on weekdays (she couldn't ride it church on Sundays because wearing a dress and riding a motorcycle did not go well together). And to this day, I remember thinking that my mom was the coolest mom on the planet because she did things that made her laugh - she worked hard and played harder; a lesson that I still remember, and one that I try to apply every day of my life.

My mom taught me many valuable childhood lessons. But the lesson I cherish most is that life is for living - make each day an adventure, which is exactly what she did when she got on that motorcycle and rode for all she was worth.

And so today I wish my mother happy birthday. She is my best friend, my closest confidant, and the person I most look up to. PattyP - this one's for you! Enjoy your year and thanks for the memories. I love you.

What's Up in My World?

Ice. Lots and lots of ice. Alyssa and John have not gone to school since Tuesday morning due to the ice. And it's cold out. Really, really cold. In the teens cold. Freezing cold. Which means I'm cold. It also means that I have been forced to do the one thing I hate to do: close my curtains in order to keep the house warm. Closing my curtains is not good. Years ago, I was diagnosed with Seasonal Affected Disorder, otherwise known as SAD. That means I need light. When we bought this house, we did so because the windows were huge, allowing a lot of natural light in the rooms. When I close my curtains, there goes the light. And when the light goes, there goes my energy level. I have a light box... I love my light box. I've used it for many winters. Currently, my light box is broken. Something about the ballast adjustment. Whatever... all I know is that it won't work. And that's bad for productivity. Not a good thing. I'm ready for spring.

Alyssa is not happy with the ice either. Yesterday, she went tubing with her boyfriend. What started out as a fun adventure soon turned into a nightmare when she took a spill from the tube and did a face-plant, skidded down the ice, and injured her head, cheek, and chin. I think she may be suffering from a mild concussion, but due to the ice, we didn't go to the ER to have her head checked. She was not vomiting, which I took as a good sign. She was, however, severely distressed regarding her personal appearance. She looks beat up, as though she was the victim of a terrible accident. I feel really bad for her. However, when she told me she was going tubing again today, my bad feelings turned to skepticism. What is it with teens? They think they are invincible. She'll learn. And in the meantime, she'll look like an accident victim for several days. According to her, it's a good thing that she won't be going to school until next Tuesday. Apparently, she thinks that her injuries will heal in record time. I doubt it.

In other news, there's that show called Grey's Anatomy. Maybe not news to some, but in my world, this is big. I should be embarrassed admitting that this show has turned me dark and twisty in a way that television has never done before. But I'm not, because I firmly believe that everyone is entitled to at least one guilty pleasure in life. Grey's Anatomy is my guilty pleasure. Unfortunately, as of last Thursday, this show has moved from guilty pleasure to my official sick obsession. January sweeps... this month is killing me - literally killing me. And because I now have the Grey's Anatomy sickness, I will not fess up to how many times I have watched the episodes Walk on Water and Drowning on Dry Land. Suffice it to say, the number of viewings requires more than two hands to add up. Honestly, I should be ashamed of myself, but since it's a true disease, I'm not.

And then there's this:

What am I going to do with this kid? He is my challenge and my joy. I think his number one goal in life is to make sure I earn the title of mother. That's the only thing I can think of when it comes to some of the things he does. He tests me every single day to see if I will react. These pictures are just one example of the stunts he pulls. Most of the time, I just go with the flow, which is what I did when he came home looking like a cartoon character gone bad. But on occasion, I have to lay down the law, and it is those days when I question whether or not I will survive the next three and a half years. Needless to say, Alyssa thinks he is a freak, which adds all kinds of joy to the concept of sibling rivalry.

And finally, in spite of the cold weather and darkness in my home, I was able to find the motivation to compose this entry because last week, I had the honor of receiving an invitation from Fiskars to be a guest blogger at their site (Fiskateer's Blog). The past few days have been spent working on a fun project for them. I think it will go up at the site on Saturday. Which is why I was surprised today when I discovered that May had posted an introduction in a separate entry. YIKES. Time to update. And so here I am. Updating with a bunch of banter about nothing.

In my perfect world, the weather would be warm and my kids would be model citizens. Reality is that it's still winter and my kids are normal teenagers doing normal teenage things. And through it all I continue to muddle through, living a make believe life with my make believe friends at Seattle Grace. The one thing that continues to keep me grounded is my work. I can't complain, because playing with paper and pretties is part of my job. And when all is said and done, I think I've got it pretty darn good. Now... if the sun would just make an appearance, my world would be perfect.

The Glass Castle

After a week-long trip, it usually takes me another week to recover from the travel. I used to attribute the long recovery period to my age. But the more I think about it, the more I realize it is probably due to my desire to ease back into a routine. That may be due to my age, since the older I become, the more I like to savor the journey. Either way, my week is almost up and it is time for me to get back to work. As John gently reminded me tonight, "Mom, the laundry is calling your name." He's right. The laundry is definitely piling up (although I don't feel sorry for him, since he is more than capable of throwing a load of jeans in the wash).

During my re-entry days, I have spent my time doing a whole lot of this and that, which adds up to not a lot of any one thing specific. I did, however, manage to eek out a few hours to sit by the fire and read a book, because for some odd reason, Old Man Winter has decided to show up after all. Where was he during the holidays when the temps were in the sixties? Colorado - that's where. Well now winter has moved into northern Virginia and I can honestly say that it is colder this week than it's been any time since we moved here nine years ago. The temperatures have not reached above freezing for days and the forecast is calling for more cold days ahead. In my mind, frigid temperatures and falling snow are good reasons to curl up by the fire and read a book. So that's what I did.

I don't write about every book I read because I am constantly reading and if I reviewed every book I read, I'd be writing daily book reports. This book, however, deserves mention because this was a book that literally rocked me to the core. Rarely do books take my breath away and give me pause to revisit my childhood and reflect on how I was raised. The Glass Castle, by Jeannette Walls, was a book that did just that. And I was reminded that I have been blessed.

Jeannette Walls is a gossip columnist for MSNBC. She is educated, poised, articulate, and a really good reporter. I've watched her on television for quite some time, never knowing her background, and not knowing that she penned an amazing memoir. I guess I haven't paid that much attention to her background, because when I began reading the first page of this book, I remembered listening to an interview with Ms. Walls where she recounted the exact event that was written as the opening chapter of The Glass Castle. Knowing the adult she has become, made her story all the more astounding.

From the very first sentence of the book, I was sucked into reading this childhood memoir. And the more I read, the more astounded I became. There are children in America who actually live like Ms. Walls lived. Children who go without food. Children who fend for themselves. Children who don't have beds and never own new clothes. Children who do not bathe because they have no water. Children who are so used to poverty that they know no other life - they just survive because survival is what makes us human. And sometimes when children are faced with adversity, they overcome and grow up to become amazing adults, which is exactly what Jeannette Walls has done.

I'm ashamed to admit that although I was aware of these things, I had chosen not to think of them. Because by not thinking about poverty, I was able to go about my sheltered little life, doing my own selfish little thing. And I was able to do so without guilt, because by choosing to ignore one of the biggest problems of American society, I was able to live in my own Glass Castle.

When I think of poverty, I think of other countries. When I think of children fending for themselves, I think of children whose parents are either dead or in prison. What I don't think about is children who have two parents who love them the best they know how, but whose love is so misplaced that suffering occurs in spite of that love. Since reading this book, I have gained a better understanding of love, and families, and the ties that bind. My hope is that I will find a way to act upon this newfound understanding.

After reading The Glass Castle, it became very clear to me that the human spirit is a powerful thing. I realized that tenacity is worth more than any amount of money. When I closed the last page of The Glass Castle, I was reminded that the events that occur in childhood most certainly impact the adult a person will become. There is but one thing thing that makes the difference: what a person chooses to do with those childhood experiences will decide whether or not that person will grow stronger or lose hope. Ms. Walls grew stronger, and that is the true beauty of this astounding story.

My Happy Place

As I was getting ready to board my flight to Anaheim last week, I was also talking to my mom on my cell phone. During the conversation, she asked if I was ready for CHA. This was a legitimate question coming from my mom, as she has been my closest confidant, my most patient sounding board, and my biggest supporter throughout my entire life. Mom knows me better than anyone else on earth, and she knew that I was a bit nervous after being away from the industry for almost two years. My response to her surprised me. I told her that I felt more calm than I have felt in months, and that I was mentally prepared for this show more so than any show I had ever worked.

After I boarded the plane, I thought about the conversation I had just had with my mom, and I reflected on everything that has happened over the course of the past two years. And in reviewing the chain of events, I felt at peace with where I am at and the choices I've made. More than that, I felt excitement - a feeling that I'd not experienced in a long time.

As I was working the show, several people commented to me that they were amazed by my enthusiasm and the high level of energy I seemed to have. My response to those remarks was always, "I'm in my happy place!" And it is true - demonstrating, teaching, talking shop, and being around other crafters makes me happy like nothing else does. Doing this work is in my blood. No matter how hard I try, I could never turn my back on the love I have for sharing my passion with others. In fact, I did try - and look where that got me... right back in the game!

This is my happy place - the Make & Take station in the Luxe booth:

I am more at home doing make and takes, teaching classes, and talking to other crafters than I am in my own neighborhood. What I've come to conclude is that we crafters make up a small community, and scrapbooking is my home within that community. It is this community where I feel most secure hanging my heart and being my true authentic self. Everything I have done in the past has led me to this place, and for that reason, it truly is my happy place.

While I was in my happy place last week, I heard some of the funniest things:

1. Apparently, I appear to be much taller in photos than I am in real life. For the record, I am 5'3" and I tend to lean on the puny side. I laughed out loud when people told me that I looked taller in my avatars and blog photos. Considering most of the pictures I post are head shots, I guess that means I have a tall head!
2. I heard over and over again that my voice doesn't fit my photos. I was losing my voice by the end of day two, and I don't know if my friends were referring to the new raspy thing I had going on, or whether they thought my real voice was deep. Either way, I guess I have a deeper voice than fits my appearance. I'm still questioning whether or not this is a good thing.
3. People asked me several times if I was always as happy as I was at the show. The answer to that question is that I was in my happy place, and when I am in my happy place, yes! I am always that happy. Away from my happy place... well, I don't have nearly as much energy.
4. By unanimous decision, it was determined that I suck at email. This is one of my biggest bug-a-boos in life, and I am making a concentrated effort to improve this character flaw. No excuses... just fact - I do suck at email.
5. "Oh, the camera is on video. We need to take another picture." I did this, my friends did this, and strangers who were handed the camera did it. Katrina Simeck and I took self-portraits of ourselves with our cameras and I have a five minute video of us that is absolutely hilarious. I would post it, but I don't know how. Plus, it would be proof of how silly we get after three days of working a show.
6. Many, many people asked me how John was doing. I couldn't believe that strangers would take the time to introduce themselves, and then inquire about my son - especially during a show where so many exciting and wonderful things were happening all around. I was moved to tears more than once as new friends and old told me that they continue to pray for John's emotional well-being and his improved health. To all those who asked and to all those who took the time to offer support - thank you. Your words meant the world to me.

The following photo collage is a vivid pictorial of just how happy I am when I am doing what I love and spending time with my friends. I missed photo opportunities on several occasions, and I am just kicking myself for not being more on-the-ball. Next time... I will add to my friends photos file the next time I am in my happy place. Until then, I'm printing out this collage and putting it in a frame on my desk. It will remind me of just how happy my happy place really is!

Disclaimer: the goofy look on my face in these pictures is the look of pure delight. Our booth was located on the lower level in the New Exhibitor's Pavilion. Almost every one of these people made the effort to come downstairs to see us. Knowing that my friends would take the time to do so during such a large and busy show warmed my heart and filled me with joy.

For the Love of Color

When I was a little girl, I loved four things above all else: kittens, baby dolls, county fairs, and crayons. Back then, there were not many things that gave me a bigger thrill than a new box of Crayola Crayons. I still remember opening a new box and smelling the aroma of the wax. I remember arranging the colors monochromatically in the hues of the rainbow. I remember memorizing the names of the individual crayons. And most of all, I remember selecting the color Cornflower to use first every single time I began to draw.

From my love of Crayons, my love of color expanded to colored markers when I was in college. And due to my love of markers, it didn't take me long to discover Sharpies. To this day, I prefer Sharpies above all other pens. In fact, I own every color ever made, and I have an  entire kitchen drawer dedicated to storing my Sharpies. Because I love Sharpies, my kids have learned to love them too. For the most part, this isn't a problem. But in the past, it has come back to haunt me on a few occasions - like the time John was three years old and decided to draw pictures using a black sharpie... the problem was, he exercised his artistic skills on the hearth of the fireplace. I had to call a restoration company to come out to my home to repair the damage. And still, I continued to love my Sharpies.

Knowing the history of my passion for color in all forms, it didn't surprise me when Thursday night John returned from the Red Hot Chili Pepper concert looking like some sort of crazed fan:

Come to find out, John and his band-mates had gotten into the Sharpie drawer and helped themselves to my chubby Sharpie pens. The look on John's face was priceless when I informed him that Sharpies are permanent and that the face enhancements and chest embellishment were going to linger far longer than the night of the concert. I can only imagine what his English teacher thought on Friday morning when John showed up to take his Language Arts final exam looking like the personification of a rebel rocker.

When I think about the history of how my love of color has progressed, I have no doubt that it has led me to the place I am today. For it is because of color that I fell in love with crafting. And it is because of color that I began to scrapbook. And it is because of color that I have a passion for the work I do in this industry.

Last night, I arrived in California. I write this on the eve of another Craft and Hobby Association winter show. I am here today because of my love of color. When I began my love affair with color at the tender age of two, I had no idea that it was the beginning of the most exciting journey of my life. And because this journey has turned out to be such a great experience, I thought I'd share the blue hues of California:

Tomorrow, I will share the colors of Luxe.