Here's my Damn New Years' Resolution

I had a conversation with the almighty Nicole a few weeks ago...it went something like "don't be absorbed by your job and blah blah blah." As per usual, the almighty called my bluff. I am utterly OBSESSED with my job. Lucky for me, it's because I love it. I can't really explain what it's like because I didn't really notice it until recently. I can only compare it to saving the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm getting close to doing just that at my job. Dramatic, sure, but it's in these times where I'm feeling the most lost that I dive in further and I disappear for a while. Maybe it's the thought that being childless isn't really being childless with 125 kids of my own to take care of every day.

This obsession has come with its fair share of victims, namely most of my friends, my husband, my dogs and, as if they were people, my many hobbies. I am not exaggerating when I say that there were literally 10,000 new blog posts in my bloglines and the famous giant embroidered peanut pillow remains half complete just as it was on the beach in August. For Christmas, I was given three beautiful embroidery/craft books that are sitting in my bathroom. I flip through them every day with the best of intensions knowing full well that some scandinavian crewel seat cushions aren't going to happen, not even close, until the peanut pillow is complete.

So, in the spirit of being balanced, I've joined a really crazy (like, scary crazy) kickboxing class and the peanut pillow is out, ready for its first stitches since Labor Day. I've cut out the appliques that I intend on stitching onto a shirt that I bought in July, I purchased the fusible interfacing and I've picked out the thread. I made a date with Katelyn for our monthly painting club where I'll (finally) finish my mixed media painting (of course it involves embroidery) without cancelling...except maybe if there's snow...uhm...tomorrow. I'm going to have a life. That's what I'm doing this year. Finally.

I'll call you Thursday, Nicole. :)

Tell Me a Story, Idgie.

If I weren't totally overwhelmed, utterly sick and undeniably in over my head (again), I would tell you about the fried green tomatoes I made tonight. I'd tell you about how the tomatoes had been hiding, perfect and green and smelling like the sun, in the back of the garden behind the eight (yes 8!) foot tomato plant. I would probably also post a photo of how perfect and round they were and then describe how I should probably write to Martha about them so she can put them either on tv or in glossy print. '

Here's hoping life comes back soon.

Jes

FINGER PANTS!

I've been filling in for Captain Busy this week on the Busy Boat, so I haven't had time to update. I thought I'd stop by in a solitary moment of down time to let you know about a first period trend that will hopefully make your day just as it usually makes mine.

My first period class is made up of pretty much the worlds greatest humans. One of these humans is a freshman with an imagination and a flair for drama. He decided that he would do everything he could to design and construct a pair of pants...for his fingers. And he did it. He made them out of paper and whenever anyone starts to lose their cool, he brings out the finger pants and diffuses the situation. Man, I love those finger pants.

Here's hoping your day is full of happiness and well dressed fingers,
Jes

Stay Fierce

Despite the precautions I've taken...the double shot neti pot sessions, the endless amounts of sleep I've been forcing my body to perform and the various witchy pills that I've taken that claim that I'll jump higher, run faster, lose weight, gain sleep, lose bags under my eyes, roll around in a wheely chair with great enthusiasm all the while fighting things as ferocious as H1N1 (I know, no longer a stylish virus, so very passe), I'm overcome with something that is rendering me a bit helpless. So, while I drag my body around behind me for the next few days, I'll continue to weigh the purchase of a very stylish neti pot in some kind of school district-created decision making framework. That's just how we do things, us robots. (And really, just because we shove it up our nose doesn't mean it shouldn't be stylish.) Am I right?

Are you in the market for a calico neti pot too?


To Mystery Viruses and the Children that Harbor Them,
Jes

The Sun Has Gone To Bed and So Must I....Goodbyyyyyyye

I'm wondering how my body is going to handle 190 days of teaching when I'm already feeling like I'm going to die of exhaustion. Like I even need a cute sleep mask like this one from Origami Revolt.

Sweet Dreams,
Jes

Fashion Week GWHS Style

I'm putting the Fall 2011 shows up with the projector tomorrow in fashion class. I like to try and make the room feel like fashion week and I hand out little note pads so the kids feel like they're front row celebrities. I loved Jason Wu's collections almost as much as I loved the fact that he was inspired by brazilian artist Beatriz Milhazes. Seriously, who wouldn't be. I love her work with all of its color and life. You just want to live in it! Wu wu!

Local Legends

(Forgive me for the terrible photography) My family has a running joke about me and olives. Dan told them once that the reason he goes grocery shopping instead of me is because I'll spend $30 on olives. (To this day, I get a card from my grandmother on my birthday with some cash and a note that says" buy yourself some olives".) I'm not sure where he got his data, for I have never spent $30 on olives before, but he is right that they will always make their way into my grocery cart in all of their salty deliciousness. I'm afraid grocery store olive fare is small potatoes, however, when compared to that of Millville, NJ's reigning pickle kings. I picked up my $7 jar (yes, it was Zumba class or olives and I chose olives) of Duker T's cheese stuffed olives at the Collingswood Farmers Market this morning and I felt no guilt. After all, they're only available 6 months out of the year, so it is only wise to get 'em while they're hot. They're sortof what dreams are made of. I also picked up some of their famous pickled tomatoes just because I deserve it.
Don't worry, Danimal. I also got some produce, which included this one very alien sweet potato that, for all I know is trying to phone home, and a head of romaine the size of Pete (tragically, not pictured).

Man, I love this town,
Jes