The Cult of Laura

All in all, I'm a simple girl. I don't have a big house, just a small 60-year old cottage that keeps me safe and warm. I don't buy expensive clothes. In fact, my mother constantly marvels at my ability to always find a sale or deal on clothes. I don't particularly like to eat out anymore since food standards are not what they would be at my home. I drive a Chevy, not a Lexus. So you get the point, I'm easy to please in most venues.

However, I do have a few luxuries I allow myself as a treat. They include:

Overpriced, but awesome chicken salad at Fairfield Grocery (very seldom)
European chocolates (Ritter Sport being my favorite)
Australian black licorice (much more flavorful)
Vera Bradley (but only on sale)
Scrapbooking toys and paper (also, only on sale)

....and then there's yarn. I like the good stuff. I crave the good, handpainted stuff. I NEED it. All my life I wanted to learn to knit. I'm like my grandmother, I love crafty stuff. I finally learned a few years ago. Basically I knit scarves. I've tried the complicated stuff but don't really have the patience for counting stitches, etc. I like the zen of scarf knitting. I don't have to think to do it. I just knit and when the row runs out I start another. Not fancy, I know, but great therapy for a self-stressed chickie like me, and they make good Christmas presents. Now then, the good stuff. I love the individuality of handpainted yarn. It's all one-of-a-kind and usually quite striking, even in something as simple as a scarf. Currently I am knitting with a hand dyed sugar cane yarn that is so silky! But never is it cheap.

So here's the part where my friend Laura comes in. I went to school with Laura Murphy. Who knew she would end up to be my yarn goddess? She's teaches fine arts at the college level way out west in Colorado. But more importantly, she makes yarn. Some she paints, some she spins and paints. And the colors of her yarn. I salivate each time I look at her Etsy shop. http://www.etsy.com/shop.php?user_id=89689. So now, my piggy bank is filling so I can buy her yarn. But I can already tell it won't be a one-time buy. I might have to take a second job to fill my cravings for Laura's fiber...

Two Weeks and Counting Down

Two weeks from now it all begins again. Approximately twenty little faces will walk into the door of my classroom home. They'll be there in person for nine months, but they will stay with me long after that time. As I drove through the torrents of rain today to go to yet another workshop I was thinking about my feelings each year at this time. I am certainly not ready to give up my summertime freedom. But then again, I'm a trifle bored and ready to get going again. This is crunch time. Teachers are working in their rooms, boxes are stacked around the hallways, and, occasionally, you can hear laughter make its way down the hall.

How do I feel at this time? Excited, more so than the children, I imagine. Although, they always walk in the door with eyes wide and sense of adventure about them. I look forward to spending more time with my work friends, too. I don't see most of them during the summer as I tend to hibernate in my house, away from noise and conversations whenever possible. I also feel a bit frightened. It's a serious job I do, one that has an impact on lives forever. I remember my 4th grade teacher, Mrs. Moore. I loved her class. It was the year they taught us speedreading. I still read that way. Students remember me, too. Most of them fondly, I hope. More than anything I hope they remember that I cared about them, that I helped them believe in themselves. That, not testing or accountability, is the first, most important job of any teacher. I take this seriously. I take it to heart. I can't wait to see what this year brings...

rainy days and mondays always get me down.

*solipsism - extreme preoccupation with and indulgence of one's feelings, desires, etc.; egoistic self-absorption.*

That's what blogs are to me, an extreme self-indulgence. After all, who really cares what most people have to say. The only person who really cares is the person doing the writing. Wouldn't it be nice if the whole "blogosphere" (as in the blogs of the world) really couldn't be accessed by the rest of humanity? That way you would never have to tell a friend "Oh yeah! I read your blog all the time" and then rush to read it and catch up in case you are questioned. I am actually predicting that no one will see this insignificant blog because the only place I have listed it is on my facebook page where I expect no one to notice it. At least, that's what I hope.

As for the entry title...I do hate rainy days, but after all the extreme heat, I'm not complaining so much. And Mondays, well, this one wasn't bad, very productive and hopeful...

I listen to him too much...

I do. I listen to my husband Dale far too much for my own good. He's always been the one I turn to for sage advice. If he comes up with an idea, I always try to carry it through. Needy? Maybe, but then he does the same for me so, if it's true, then it reciprocal neediness. I prefer to think of it as loving and respecting each other. I wouldn't have married him if I didn't like his ideas.

Now then, as we drove along the inner or outer loop, I'm not sure which is which, he said that I needed to start a blog so that I would write more and eventually write that book he and my mother harass me about.

So I took his dare. I signed up for this blog. I hope he reads it. I think he will since he wants to find out what I say about him.