Me Time

I am in dire need of some Me Time. I absolutely love my job. I love the kids I work with every day, even when I don't. But I'm tired.

My band is taking a trip to Seattle this week, courtesy of a fabulous CD we sent in that won us the chance to give a showcase concert at a music convention. We found out back in April, and 95% of my life since then has been focused on our upcoming concert and making the trip a reality. I'm happy to do it, and I'm more than glad to be a part of one of those lifetime memories the kids will make up there in the rain. :) But I'm tired.

I am incredibly thankful for this trip. It has given me a focused purpose these past 7 months and in the process helped me handle the past year just a little bit at a time instead of stewing in my own emotions. I am so thankful for that because in a weird way in the insanity that comes with the trip has kept me sane. :) But I'm tired.

my overly bounteous purchase

SO TIRED that when I went to Barton Springs Nursery a couple of weekends ago and bought 12 new plants (shouldn't have done that...) I've only managed to get 7 in the ground. I've currently planted 2 mexican sages, a mexican mint marigold (the second died before I could plant it...), a winter senna that looks strange, 2 almond verbenas (yum!), a rock rose, and one of 3 somethings that I can't remember what it's called. Many of them replaced plants that didn't make it through the summer. Several though have required a bed extension that I'm super pumped about!!!!

I also bought some bamboo muhly that I got very excited by but have absolutely no idea where I even want to put it.

Here is one of my extensions that is still in the process of being created. I spent about 2 hours tearing up the crap grass that was growing there, removing all of the old roots and rocks, and preparing the soil for real plants. The Mexican Sage has already grown a lot since I took this picture, and hopefully I spread them out enough that they won't crowd my Hot Lips Salvia come spring. Just FYI... the bit of fencing was just to keep the dogs away, and the rock is testing how I feel about that look.





This is another of the projects I've started. Nothing grows in this part of my yard, aside from the rogue crape myrtle that I have finally just accepted is going to grow here after 2 1/2 years of trying to get rid of it. I usually have a few adirondacks in this corner which get a great view of all the yard work I've done, so I thought I'd do a little "masonry" project by laying some brick to create little seating area. This is my first round of bricks that is pseudo finished. It will eventually be brick and crushed granite in at least 3, maybe 4 rings. Lots of work, but a lot of fun in the process.

 As for all of the indoor projects Dad completed to the point of me needing to finish... that'll have to wait until I actually get some of that Me Time after this trip.

Thanks, Dad!

Last weekend my family came to visit and hear my band's concert, and luckily Dad made it a working visit! Thanks for the Man Job help!

The hole in the ceiling is gone!

I have baseboards on either side of the fireplace now!

The "squirrels, be gone!" hole in my closet is patched after 2 1/2 years!

The rotten baseboard in the bathroom is replaced. 

AND, the molding is up in my toilet room! 

Holy Raindrops, Batman!

After 9 months of virtually no precipitation, I am happy to report that I got wet, my rain barrel is full, my yard is muddy, and my dogs peed in the house in protest. :) 

I don't remember a time in my life (early childhood doesn't count) when I was beyond excited to see rain. It had absolutely nothing to do with the drought either... I mean, yes, my plants are happier with rain and the dirt less difficult to maneuver, but I don't believe that is what elicited my response. 

The last time it really rained in my corner of the Austin metro was the night we went to see the King's Speech. We decided kinda last minute to drive down to Regal Arbor. I had wanted to see it for a long time. Colin Firth has been an open crush of mine for nearly a decade, and mixing his nerdy sexiness with the British monarchy is a recipe for awesomeness in my book. Roger also wanted to see the movie, but I couldn't get him to move quick enough that day. We left later than planned in a downpour. Traffic was moving too slowly for my taste, and I was outwardly frustrated. I cursed the rain, damning it for choosing that moment to flood the streets when we were obviously in a rush. When we got to the theater, there was no parking... We had to park a couple of streets away and walk through the rain to buy our tickets. I stepped in a huge, invisible puddle that soaked my shoe and pant leg. I was angry. Roger was frustrated that I was being vocal about being angry. Our date night was off to a bad start. 

Once we got our tickets I went into the theater to get our seats. 98% of the audience was over the age of 65, and there were no seats left together. I was even more frustrated... I finally found a sweet couple that moved over so I could get a seat for Roger and I. Most of the previews were over by the time Roger got out of the concessions line. The previews were "the best part", and he had missed them. 

We started the movie in silence, not really acknowledging one another's presence except to share the cherry coke Roger bought. There is one really great scene in which Colin Firth lets loose an amazing string of profanities that had the whole audience doubled over laughing, us included. Despite being late, wet, and frustrated, we were having a good time. I reached over and squeezed his hand as a sort of silent apology for being a high-strung turd. 

As we left the theater, we didn't talk about our previous state of pissy-ness but excitedly discussed what a wonderful movie that was and that it should definitely win the Oscar for best picture... Surely it could beat a movie about Facebook... The rain had ceased (thank god), but there was a beautiful glow everywhere from the lights of the city reflected in the streets. Roger took me to Michael's to buy some new yarn, and we made a Chick-Fil-A run before going back home. What started as an unnecessarily stressful date night ended pleasantly and appreciated, as it should have started. Of course, everything is more pleasant and appreciated in retrospect, rain included. 

Droughts extend beyond the literal weather. Rain is a good place to start. 

Waiting for Sprinkles

I am emotionally driven by the idea of rain. 

It's been a lazy Saturday morning (thank god), which I've needed more than anything. I woke up late-ish: 8:30. The girls spent about 30 minutes nuzzling me, convincing me to get up with little kisses. A bowl of cereal and cup of coffee with gingerbread cocoa mixed in helped me to muster up some energy while browsing the day's news online. But despite riveting stories of how I'm losing more money in my investments, how our politicians are still too damn proud to frickin work together, and a few video clips of Steve Jobs's commencement speech, I found myself compulsively checking weather radars. 

This drought is taking a serious toll on my project therapy. Another coral honeysuckle meets it's end.

One of my most impressive specimens, one of two 6 foot+ butterfly bushes, hasn't died and is actually  sending out new leaflets in the "cooler" temperatures but is draped in wrinkled, burned leaves from the summer. Several of the branches have died, but I'll prune those when when fall actually shows its face.

 My raspberry salvia greggi has chosen to bloom for the first time since maybe March, but it's neighbor - a dwarf silver sage that used to produce the most beautiful bright blue flowers - shriveled up despite being watered.

My red bud's foliage is taking on interesting stress patterns. I have babied this tree for 3 years now, and strangely enough, even with the horrible drought, my constant attention has allowed the tree to keep leaves all the way into October! Both previous summers the leaves turned black by July and fell off well before fall ever arrived. 

I AM A GARDENER!!!!!! But I can't bring myself to garden when I know my efforts are futile.

For about 2 minutes, it rained hard at my house. When I heard those first few drops on my chimney, my eyes actually welled up a bit I was so excited. I literally ran out to the back porch so I could feel the drops in my hair, on my face, through my shirt. A few seconds of standing in the rain and I got to see something I haven't in almost a year: water shooting out of the gutter spout! When we bought the house it was gutterless. $800 later our house was equipped for the torrential flooding we will apparently never see. My rain barrel stands without purpose. Does anyone else have fingers crossed for category 5 hurricane? How is it possible that virtually the entire state of Texas is seeing rain or has seen rain in the last month or so, and Austin is still being savagely punished? 

I'm going to continue with my lazy Saturday but with the TV muted and the music stopped in case I am so lucky to hear a few more sprinkles. 

Cabin Fever

an exact replica of my front yard

I am suffering from some serious cabin fever brought on by the debilitating heat.

Here I have my big list of projects I want to complete, but I'm not really interested in painting right now, and my personal trainer is absorbing my extra money that would ordinarily go toward buying light fixtures, etc. All that leaves me are my outdoor projects, and I have no desire to work in this extended summer heat. I can't plant anything. It's too darn dry. And I definitely don't want to start my landscaping renovations while sitting outside breaks a sweat.

I've already made the conscious decision to pretend it's fall by wearing scarves and sweaters to school despite what temperatures it might be outside my band hall walls. Trying to time taking my doglets out on a walk is hard with my school schedule while still waiting for it to cool down enough for their low to the ground tummies not to rotisserie on the pavement. AND my electric bill is crazy as I require 69 degrees for a proper night's sleep.

I am sooooo over this weather.

A Decade Revisited

I realize I'm a day early, but my mind is thinking of it now, so I'll explore it now.

I really can't believe that September 11th was 10 years ago. I, like most of you, remember exactly where I was at the exact moment I heard. I was a sophomore in college, in the shower of my dorm, getting ready for my 9:30 Geosciences class. The shampoo was in my hair when I heard a girl run in to tell her roommate, who was brushing her teeth, that we had been bombed... well not bombed, but hit by a plane. I heard this and couldn't understand what exactly that meant... We'd been hit by a plane? The girl was almost unintelligible because she was talking so fast, but my first thought was 'Are going to war?' followed immediately by 'Are we going to start a draft?' I was thinking solely of my boyfriend at the time, wondering if he would be sent away to some foreign country against his will because someone hit us with a plane... I still didn't understand what that meant.

I rinsed out my hair, didn't bother with conditioner or anything else (which if you've read my curly hair page you know is just wrong), and wrapped myself up in a towel so I could go into the commons room on my floor where probably 20 girls were crowded around the big screen TV watching the news. Everyone was silent. I was only in there for about 10 seconds before they replayed the video we've all seen probably 1000 times too many - the first plane hitting the tower. I was not the only one seeing it for the first time, and we were differentiated from the rest by our sudden gasps and subsequent holding of breaths. The others merely continued watching in shocked silence. It wasn't long after that the silence turned to tears for many of the girls as we watched the second plane hit and the reports of the other two rogue planes were linked to it all. Contrary to what we all quietly hoped, this was not a horrible accident, and the world would be eternally different.

Not a week before, I had been talking with my boyfriend and some of our friends about how every generation has their war. We wondered if we were finally at a point in civilization that our generation would skip that. It's funny how the universe chooses to wait for those "knock on wood" phrases to escape our lips before acting... not that I truly believe that conversation was the catalyst for a decade of tragedy, but on more than one occasion that day I eerily thought back to our words just days prior.

Gas jumped 80 cents to $1.88 in a few hours. I remember this because, unlike the mob of crazy people that instantly decided they needed to stock up on gas, I was running on fumes and had to wait in line for more than half an hour just to fill up. I didn't have a cell phone to talk to my parents while I waited, so I was forced to listen to the radio reports and replays of the mornings events. It was bizarre and surreal and more than my 19 year old frame of mind knew how to process.

As I consider where I was 10 years ago, I have thought a lot this week about where I have been in the 10 years that followed. First of all, you know you are a full-fledged adult when you have an abundance of clear memories from 10 or more years ago. :) I feel like even though we label childhood and adolescence as "the formative years", the past decade has shaped me in ways the first two could not even reference.

I saw my first national tragedy, had my heart completely broken for the first time, and took my first stab at the reinvention of Darcy. I took on my first students, long before a piece of paper called me a teacher, and realized reinvention was merely growth. I got my first B, took my first (and last) attempt of holding two jobs, and got fired for the first (and last) time. I experimented for the first (and also last) time with dying my hair, and although I will probably never do that again until I encounter more than the occasional grey hair, I do make a good red head. I went to Europe for the first time, following that up with 4 other trips, and made my first legitimate effort at using a foreign language for real. I got my first tattoo and pierced my nose for the first time (oh yes, there will be a second... even if it's when I retire). I accepted my first "real" job, lived alone for the first time, and bought my first new car. I had my first experiences of dating as a working adult, got married (for the first time...), and took out our first mortgage. I got my first dog, decided a first wasn't enough, and got a second... and a third. I went to the Smithsonian for the first time, won my first contest, and painted the first of many walls. I learned to make my first crochet chain. I got my first power tool (a circular saw) for Christmas. I put down my first pet. I learned for the first time just how untrusting one can be of "the system". I lost my first husband and learned a whole lot of firsts with that. I bought my first DSL camera and took the first picture where I thought I knew what I was doing. I learned to make my first t-shirt necklace and bought my first voluntarily-purchased dress. I, for the first time, am feeling pressure in my job that I honestly need help to alleviate. AND... I saw my first muscle in my arm the other day. :)

The last decade has left me at the point that I actually feel like I kinda know who I am, what I stand for, and maybe more importantly what I absolutely do NOT stand for. I realize that virtually none of this has anything to do with the actions of terrorists, but it is where my mind takes me as I contemplate one of only a handful of days I will never forget.

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Project for the day: unpack everything I packed when I though my house might burn down and pack up a lot of what I decided was okay to burn to give to Goodwill.

I am the master of my fate

Poetry is rarely my outlet, but I serendipitously found this poem last night that, while slightly more graphic that I would necessarily write, embodies much of what I have found in myself.

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the Pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll.

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.

                  -William Ernest Henley