A Sassy Yellow Pillow

It's currently 1:19 in the morning, and yet, I'm still awake. I'm not even really sure why I happen to be awake; I'm usually the type of person who's done with living around 10 p.m. I need eight hours of sleep a night to be considered fully functioning. No, we don't have kids, and as mentioned in the previous post, my sweet Tallulah would sleep all day if we didn't force her to get out of bed and walk around the house.

I had been so discouraged with the whole sewing thing that I decided to sit down tonight and make something I knew would be successful...a new pillow cover for one of our pillows. We needed some new spunky pillows for our lavender room, and I am smitten with this fabric that I picked up from Joann's. I'm hoping it will make its appearance in my first ever attempt at a quilt.

So here you have it...a sassy yellow pillow.

Not too shabby for 1 in the morning...oh, and that cute little chair? My husband refinished it for me and upholstered it with leather for our "leather" anniversary last year. :) He's a keeper.

Rainy Days and Tuesdays

It's raining here today. Actually, I think raining is kind of an understatement. Can monsoon be a verb? If so, it's monsooning here. The wind is ferocious and has whipped my two little outdoor trees off my porch and down my steps. What is there to do other than stay bundled up in the house and spend countless hours on Pinterest? Well, I could "undeck" my halls and take down all my Christmas decor, but I'm just really not feeling that right now.

Hank stayed up late painting furniture for our laundry room redo, and he's still in bed with sweet Tallulah Jane. I assure you, those two would sleep all day if it were an option in life.

Yesterday, I attempted to get crafty. My cousin, Emily, is with child...baby girl child, to be exact, and her shower is on Saturday. I got in my head yesterday that I would go ahead and sew up some of her gifts. The sewing thing is still coming along, though I'm starting to feel like I don't have that natural knack for it that my mother seems to possess. Sewing a straight line is sometimes difficult for me. However, I successfully created a monogram taggie toy after an unsuccessful attempt. Today's goal is to make some burp cloths. We'll see how it goes.

I've Gotten My Read On...

Near the end of 2010, my husband looked at me one night during dinner and said, "How many books do you think you've read this year?". I honestly had no idea. Since I read all the time, I imagined it would be a lot, but I wasn't sure. One of my goals for 2011 was to read 52 books over the course of the year. I reached that goal in mid-June, so I expanded it to 100. I'm currently reading my 100th book of 2011.

A lot of what I have read has been young adult lit. I'm guessing that's a casualty of the job, but I'm always trying to find books that my students will read and enjoy. Some of it, however, has been great.

I will always plug The Hunger Games, but I actually read that near the end of 2010. If you haven't taken the time to read it, get your hands on it and read it soon...at least before you see the movie.

Two of my top favorite YA books I read in 2011 were If I Stay by Gayle Forman and The Sky is Everywhere by Jandy Nelson. Both are stories of terrible loss, but they also dig into the stories of those who are left after another family member (or more than one) is gone. If you're at all interested in YA lit, please give them a read. They are most excellent.

Both pictures are courtesy of Amazon.

So this is Christmas...?

While there are many reasons I love being a teacher and being married to someone who works in the school system and "gets" my frustrations, some of my very favorite teaching moments are the built-in breaks we get. It's even more fun that Hank and I get to spend them together. Of course, there are times when we have to find something else to do because our nerves are shot from too much "together-time," but for the most part, having a very similar schedule has been good for us.

With that being said, we're obviously on two weeks of glorious Christmas break. No work, no papers to grade, no necessary early mornings. All of that is enough to bring out a chorus of rejoicing!

Today, we ventured to the country to meet up with our friend, Fennel, who works in law enforcement for us to shoot our gun. This is something my sweet husband is very into. We quickly discovered it's not really my thing. Other than shooting a BB gun with my daddy when I was little girl, I had never actually shot a gun before today. It jumps and smokes and all that jazz that just isn't for me. Hank had a blast though, hitting cans and targets and generally making a whole lot of noise.

I think we're probably still on the search for a "couple hobby" because this one most certainly wasn't it.

Christmas is...

Ever since I was a little girl, Christmas has been my favorite time of the year. There's just something magical in the air. People are nicer. It's the season of giving and loving and caring. And for one moment, it seems the whole world is aware of the loving miracle that is Jesus Christ. Do I foolishly believe that every person celebrates Christmas as the birth of Jesus Christ? No. Do I even get caught up in the lights and gift-giving and snowmen? Yes.

For me, Christmas has always been magical. It's a time of warmth and happiness and love. As my husband and I were driving home from the beach the other night, we passed a small little rundown house that was draped in gaudy Christmas lights. I pointed it out to him and explained that when I was little, I thought that type of thing was gorgeous. My parents would load us in the station wagon (not sure if that's a proper noun or not...what car maker even patented the station wagon?), and we'd ride around for hours searching out Christmas lights. It is one of my fondest Christmas memories that I hold close to my heart.

Though now that I'm older, I prefer the simplicity of some nice white lights and wreath, there's something about those huge multicolored lights strung haphazardly around a house that make my heart smile. There's a house near us that is simply nearly in shambles,steps detaching themselves from the house, tin roof rusted and aged, but each year, the owner pulls out her Christmas lights and for a season, it's one of the happiest sights in our neighborhood. To me, gaudy Christmas lights do to that house what Christ does to our lives.

Let's face it, we are ugly people...covered from head to toe in the filth of our sin, but when we let Christ shine through us, the dull ache of our lives vanishes and is replaced with an unmistakable glow. The light of Jesus Christ transforms us in the same way the Christmas lights can transform any old house. Let's let our transformation be for more than just a season.

Casual Introductions

I'm not entirely new to the Blog World. I've been a blog stalker for a few years now, and I've attempted starting my own blogs from time to time, but they never "stick." I'm hoping this one is different.

I'm a 27-year-old English teacher who lives in a small town in a cute house with a precious husband. I obviously have no problem with prepositional phrases. I am currently in my fifth year teaching, and I absolutely love what I do. Very rarely do I wake up and feel like I'm going to "work," but I do wish school started at ten. I think I'd be a much better teacher if it did!

My husband and I will be celebrating our fourth year of marriage at the end of the month. During the past four years, we've acquired a sweet pup who is the best thing ever, lived in an apartment so small I used to study locked in the one bathroom, purchased our first home, eaten a whole lot of food from our local Mexican restaurant, argued and made up more times than I can count, and somehow figured out this whole "living comfortably together" thing.

I know this is where most people give you some kind of update about what their blogs will be about, but I simply don't know. My day to day is kind of boring, but I love it. That doesn't make it blog-worthy. I don't have kids. I'm only semi-crafty. I do read, but a lot of people don't care about that either. I'm hoping this becomes a place for me to record the goings on of my life and share some exciting news from time to time. I guess we'll see.

Unkie

The day before I was scheduled to take my National Board assessments, my mom and I went to Columbia and stayed the night so we wouldn't be pressed for time trying to get there in morning work traffic. Shortly after we found the building where I would be testing that night, my mom got a call from my aunt telling us that my dear sweet Unkie had passed away. If you trace back on my blog a little ways, you will be able to read all about Unkie. In short, he was my grandfather...or the closest thing I'd ever had to one. Both of my parents' fathers passed away before I was born, and Unkie (my grandmother's brother) moved here from Florida just three months before I was born and stayed here until he passed away this month. He was 92. That wasn't old enough. Before he died, in the words of my cousin, Joy, I never imagined a world without Unkie. For some reason, I thought he'd live forever. I know that's not logical, or even vaguely intelligent, but I wholeheartedly believed it.

As I sat back and remembered all the good times with him, I cried and cried...not just because my Unkie was gone, but because my babies that I haven't had will never know him. That breaks my heart.

“Elegy for Unkie”

To the world, he was Clifford Bergstrom.
To all of us, he was our Unkie.
And to him, many of us were “Charlie.”

He was a veteran paratrooper who fought for our freedom,
And a kindhearted soul who loved us more than life.
When we were kids, anything a hug couldn’t fix,
A pack of M&Ms could,
And we knew we would find them in Unkie’s drawer.

When summer came, he cleaned the pool,
preparing it for the wave of children
that would soon run around Lois Street.
Rides home from school with Unkie
were like trips to the amusement park,
careening over the 378 bypass
at speeds our parents would never go.
Perhaps he learned to drive
from watching Mark Martin.

Unkie loved a lot of things…
Hamburger Helper, Chicken McNuggets, lemondade,
donating to charities, races at Daytona, piano music.
He could put the world back together with a tube of super glue.
And no one knew Young and the Restless like Unkie.

Of course, he had lots of hobbies…
following NASCAR, working in the yard,
carpentry, and hanging with Uncle Temus,
but Unkie’s favorite hobby was us.
He was a family man, evident from his bedroom
wallpapered in our photographs
to his constant attendance at family dinners
until just a few weeks ago.
He never tired of our neighborhood-wide
“Happy New Year,” and he was always around
for weddings and babies and birthdays.

He was a hero, not only in his service to this country
but in his service to his family,
A family that was forever changed when a sweet
little man moved to Nanny’s in 1984,
Living one of the fullest lives we could ever imagine…
even if 92 years just weren’t enough for us.

Come On, Summer!

As established in my earlier post...I love my job. I could even use the word adore on most days. In fact, I rarely get up and feel like I'm going to "work," unless it's a week I have morning duty. At 7:30 in the morning, I am in no way a happy camper and I find high school immaturity less than cute.

Regardless of how much I love what I do, I also love that I get a summer break. And at this point, I am super-ready for it. I overdid myself this semester, and I've paid for it. Now, I'm just ready to wake up later than 5:45 a.m., spend my free time with my husband, and get my house somewhat in order.

I'm ready to embrace my summer. :) Bring it on.

Teaching

My profession has been heavy on my heart lately for a variety of reasons. For one, I am in the middle of writing up my responses to the Teacher of the Year questions. One of the first questions asks why I became a teacher. I'm supposed to write two double-spaced pages, but I can sum up my response in much less than that. I am a big believer that I didn't choose teaching, but instead, it chose me. Some are called to study law, some are called into medicine, and I was called to teach; it is as much a part of my DNA as my eye color. I honestly consider it one of the most honorable professions in the world. Sure, there are jobs I could work and get paid much more money or have much more prestige, but I'd rather sit in my classroom and shape the lives of young adults over money and titles any day of the week.

Last night in my graduate class, one of my fellow classmates (and a teacher) shared with our little 618 family that this would be her last year teaching. She's not retiring and hasn't been laid off. After three years, she's just decided teaching is not for her. I am devastated to say the very least. I've seen her presentations in class, heard her talk about her students with such passion, and now I feel like our field is losing something great. Denise Hildreth-Jones, one of my favorite Christian speakers, is also a novelist. She often tells the story of how she never believed she could be a writer until someone told her that she needed to write a book. Her response was, "I don't write," and the person said, "Yeah, you do." After publishing several novels, she tells this story to reference the power other people have to call us into our destinies. I wholeheartedly believe that teaching is mine.

When I was a little girl, I often had to be my sister's student while she played school. I desperately wanted to grow up and have either a younger sibling or a classroom of my own so I could teach real people instead of stuffed animals. My parents assured me a classroom would be the more likely of the two. I remember racing in the door from kindergarten, eager to teach my daddy the letter "J" and all the j-words we had learned that day. A love for learning had ignited even then, and it has continued to grow.

Are there bad days in teaching? Sure, there are. Do I often leave school at 5:00 exhausted and lugging home a night's worth of work to grade? Of course. Sure, I'd like a job that allows my day to end when I leave my place of employment, and there are days I'd practically kill for a decent lunch instead of whatever the cafeteria staff has dreamed up. But at the end of each and every day, there is nothing I'd rather do than teach. It is who I am.

Me with one of my favorite students on her happy graduation day.

Relaxation

Oh sweet Lord, how I needed Spring Break. I have entirely used this week the way it was intended when God looked down on teachers and said, "My word, by March or April, they're bound to be crazy." I relaxed. That is all I've done. And it has been nothing short of miraculous.

My sweet husband, on the other hand, painted our entire kitchen in our cute little fixer-upper and did some landscaping work. Last night he stayed up late folding a mountain of laundry. I woke up all sleepy-eyed, wondering just what I'd done right in life to deserve someone like him. He is the epitome of what a husband should be, and I am so thankful for him even on our worst days.

Of course, my relaxation came with a price. I currently have until 4:30p.m. tomorrow to get three projects completed for graduate school (two of which have not been started). Was it worth it? Most definitely.

A First

So today while I was sitting in my graduate class, anxiously ready to go so I could make a trip to Hobby Lobby, I got a text from my husband. He usually doesn't text me during class unless it's something important like he just won the lottery or he doesn't want me to forget his pizza on the way home. This message was highly unusual and said, "I just killed our first snake of the season." Excuse me, what?

Now, I grew up in the country, and I was even a counselor at a kids' camp where it was considered typical to kill a snake a day. But...we are talking about my house that sits in a cute little neighborhood about 2.5 minutes from a WalMart. When we signed the papers to purchase it, I didn't think we were buying snakes, too. Apparently, I was wrong.

I called to get the details (after my class was over, of course), and I was told by a very excited 28-year-old that the snake was on the front porch and that when he came back with the shovel, it was slithering (hate that word) into the bushes in front of our house. When my husband attempted to kill it, it apparently started biting the shovel. Why? I don't really know.

He's attempted to lure me into the yard to look at it because he "saved it" for me, but I can't get down with snakes.

Tallulah Jane

Growing up, I never had a pet. Well, one time I bought a sea monkey kit from Spencer's, but I accidentally spilled them down the drain, so I don't think that really counts at all. I couldn't love and cuddle them or walk them down the street unless I carried their container in my arms. I wasn't really that into them anyway.

I had always wanted a puppy, but my mom wasn't having it. When I got to college, my desire for a puppy increased exponentially, but as an RA, sneaking a dog into my dorm room wouldn't have been a good thing for my job, and my job paid for my housing. You see the dilemma...obviously.

From college, I moved into an apartment that was not conducive to animals because they "made too much noise," even though the lady who lived beneath us had children who made more noise than an entire pound full of animals. Anyway...for years I had been following Mustard Sandwich, which I maintain is the best place from which to adopt a dog. Anyway, I was looking one day and saw this cute little Chug (Chihuahua/Pug mix). She was a girl, and she was absolutely precious. I immediately e-mailed her picture and description to my husband, and he convinced me that we could get her and keep her quiet in our apartment. We got her, and though she wasn't always quiet, we never were asked to get rid of her. Now, we're obviously in our own house, and she has free reign of the place.

Before we got her, I never realized why people were so crazy about their animals. I actually thought it was kind of loopy. Now, though, I know. She is a bright spot of every day, and I am still completely smitten over her.

Yes, I realize I should fold those clothes, and there probably shouldn't be blinds in the middle of my floor. It's Spring Break; get over it.

Monday Musings

On this Monday, I have so much to be thankful for...
-Good friends who keep me laughing.
-My sweet Tallulah who is currently perched on my leg because she's missed me all day.
-My patient husband who is tireless painting our kitchen just the colors I wanted.
-The fact that I have a personal Savior who cared enough to die for me.
-A job that gives me Spring Break. Hallelujah!
-A great rug that was cheap at Ross.

Stretched too thin...

I often end up stretching myself way too thin. It's something I've always had a habit of doing, and since high school, it has never changed. This semester I have truly taken on far too many responsibilities...National Board, teaching full-time, teaching part-time, three Master's classes, yearbook, and working on the house. I am definitely geared up and ready for Spring Break.

Several times this semester, I've found myself asking why I've done this. Why in the world did I think I was capable of doing it all? Honestly, many days I run through the door, change my clothes, brush my teeth, and crash into bed. While I'm thankful for all these opportunities, I realize that for my health and sanity, it's definitely not worth it.

A few weeks ago, my husband and I were headed to our favorite little Mexican hole-in-the-wall restaurant for dinner. As he wheeled into the parking lot, I asked him to please pray with me before we went in. He looked concerned, so I explained that I was just overwhelmed with everything I had going on and that I desperately needed peace. He grabbed my hand, and with a very serious look in his eyes, he said, "I'll pray for you, but I'm also going to pray that you never ever forget what this feels like so you won't do this to yourself again."

I think his point was extremely valid. How often to get into a bad situation and attempt to pray our way out of it just to blindly walk straight into it again? I know I've done that more times than I would want to honestly admit. What is it about us that hinders us from remembering the bad moments? After we get out of a situation, for many of us we wait a few months and dive headfirst back into it. This is one of those lessons I hope I've learned...and not just endured.

Resolve

I'm usually not too big on New Year's Resolutions. After all, most of the people across the world resolve to change their lives in a given year, yet 365 days later, they don't even remember what they planned to change. I don't want to change too much, but there are some things I want to work on. However, they all revolve around one simple idea: Making more time for myself in 2011.

I am busy. I work a full-time job as a public school teacher, teach in an adjunct position at a local technical school, teach homebound students after school, and am working towards my Master's (taking three classes this coming semester). It goes without saying that there are a lot of "me things" that get pushed aside in an effort to maintain all the other things I have going on.

This year, I plan to take some time for myself and really enjoy the year. I want to devote time to spiritual growth, and I want to be more organized. All of this will help me greatly. Let's hope I can stick with it.