Photo now… words later.
Friday 28 February 2014: An Update
So, I’ve had this post open all week on my laptop. And I’ve meant to update it. It’s just been one of those weeks. It’s 8 pm on Friday night, I’m finally off of work for the week — though I have a ton of church stuff to do tomorrow. But it’s time for wine and a piece of my birthday cake (See’s candy IZ buys me each year!) — so why not a bit of review too?
Monday was my birthday and I actually took the entire day off. Scripts arrived for March’s 4th Sunday service: I spent all of 2 minutes looking at them and then put them DOWN.
Folks, that’s amazing for me. Typically, I can’t help myself. I just launch in, and 4 hours later I look up and realize I worked on my day off.
IZ took me out to coffee… twice. Including a nice drive to Cannon Beach to our favorite coffee place and absolutely NO work talk. Instead, I talked about my budgies and my unearthly love of those birds. New Bird was a birthday gift last year, so he’s 1 year old! And of course that warranted a conversation. IZ has started calling me the “crazy bird lady”. Um, kinda.
I baked pizza, hung out with my men, did NOTHING all day. I think there was a trip to Goodwill. It was a lovely way to decompress–especially since the day before was a 4th Sunday service — and those are so much work.
But, taking Monday off means RUNNING all week. And that’s what I’ve done. I don’t think I’ve posted anything anywhere in days. No tweeting, no Facebook status reports, I don’t even think I’ve looked at this blog or Mireio.
Somehow, during this week I did manage to make this little toddler skirt for Barbara Kellie.
It’s made from a shirt I found at Goodwill on Monday: challis. OMG I hate sewing with challis. Never doing that again. I pulled so many stitches I could have made this over twice. But I think it turned out OK. I made it so the black skirt functions as a petticoat for the pink skirt. Remarkably, that worked.
Which means I won’t be able to recreate it. One offs are good, right?
And then there is this:
That would be Sophie, sunbathing beneath the line of an air-compressor. After two point something years of living in a disaster area: the house is finished. And by “finished” I mean, I now have no excuse to not paint. All the doorways are framed. Everything that should have been trimmed, caulked, or finished … is. Can I get a Hallelujah? Of course, having a construction person in the house all week was not without a moment of tears.
The entire process puts me back to the hell-hole that was fall of 2011. It’s a mild form of PTSD: (not to make light of that for folks who suffer!) I’m completely skeptical of anyone who dons a tool belt for a living. And somewhere along the line “make it work” started meaning “let’s half-ass” this. Folks, I’m spinning too many plates. Lots of them drop, but not because I’m half-assing anything. But because I’m giving my all to other plates. It makes me nutty.
But it’s done. I should focus on that.
Someone needs to paint this house now. I’m going to drink another glass of wine and consider telling you about my theme for the year.
Or just drink another glass of wine. See you… soon? (Oh, and I’m 44. That number is MAGIC. The fact my house is done… PROOF.)