So, so, so angry

I don't even know where to start. Maybe I'll start with this disclaimer that states: This is gong to be more of a maybe-I-don't-want-the-whole-world-to-read-my-journals-when-I'm-dead journal type entry so feel free to back slowly out of the room to a safer place. If you are still here, I will start by telling a story.

Once upon a time I thought I would go to nursing school. This was not decided on a whim, it was percolating in the back of my mind for decades, but the idea stayed nicely in the back of my mind as I got on with other things in life. Like getting married, having children, having more children, and having yet more children, staying home to raise them, and occasionally taking a class here and there. Don't misunderstand me here: I did exactly what I wanted to do for my career. I fought long and hard with a husband who didn't have experience with women who chose to stay home and raise a family and could hardly believe it was possible to live with one income. To his everlasting credit, he sucked it up, exercised enormous amounts of faith, and supported me in what I know was the right thing for our family. We now have the "I'm so glad you stuck to your guns and we did it the way we did" conversation although more often than not, I feel like I am on the other side of the argument with "I wonder how screwed up my children are because they had a crazy mom at home in their face their whole lives growing up?" But that is a story for another day.

When the older kids were in college I thought that it was finally my time to start but just when it came time to commit to a program, life again jumped in the way and I thought, "Well, that was fun but I guess it's not what I'm to be doing."

Fast forward 3 years and through a series of what I can only call miracles, I was accepted into a nursing program that has turned out to be the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. It's hard for so many reasons but here are a few:

1.  It's an accelerated program that is mentally overwhelming. I feel sometimes that I haven't taken a single class to prepare me for what we are learning and that everyone is speaking a different language. Add to that a couple of outright insane teachers and a time frame that expects me to learn a semester's worth of information in one month. Reading a 1,200 page textbook in a month has become the norm. But, with lots of prayers and a very supportive and forgiving family, I have been able to spend the necessary time to keep my straight A average.
2. It is physically exhausting to be a nurse. Here again I have been so blessed to have a doctor that began mentally kicking my behind last year and has helped me lose weight and get fit. I have good shoes (seems like a small thing but I always have had foot issues) that enable me to work 12 hours a day running, standing, walking and never once have my feet hurt. My legs get tired but it's no worse than anyone else in the program is feeling and they are mostly 15-25 years younger than I.
3. The stress level is more than I have ever experienced. There are so many ways to be dropped from the program that I have to be vigilant on all sides at all times to maintain the testing average, class average, additional computer program testing average... Every time a class finishes, I find myself sleeping on and off for  2 days and then it's time for another class.

The hardest thing of all is the inability to do the mom/grandma things that I love above all other things. I missed two college graduations this year, my daughter-in-law had repeat cancer surgery and where was I? Not there. My other daughter-in-law has been dealing with her own struggles and can I help? No, not with time or mental energy. Girls call from college and I find myself distracted by my own worries and stuff. I go days sometimes seeing Allan only because he is asleep in bed next to me while I'm studying into the night, but not having time or energy for a real conversation. Grandchildren are growing, being born, do those Texas boys even remember who I am? I am writing this bawling because the sacrifice seems too much, but every time I think it's time to stop, I am prevented in ways that let me know that Heavenly Father has a different plan. I am not alone, He watches over me and has allowed opportunities for other family members to step up into my place and serve each other while I cannot. That is perhaps the greatest blessing of all.

This month's course is very laid back with class only once a week and the rest of the time quite easy with zero stress. I decided that I would sneak off to Texas to meet a boy I haven't met and spend time with two wild children and their parents. It was going to be a surprise---just show up at their door. It's not often I feel like that can happen but Kit is going there the day after, Allan and Kacey are driving through 2 days after that so I knew they would be home. I have been getting so excited and haven't allowed myself to call or talk with them because I didn't trust myself to not say anything that would give it away. Today, I left the house at 4:00 am and arrived at the airport ready for my trip only to get to the counter 3 minutes late. Three minutes? The woman at the counter seemed to feel the need to teach me a lesson about being on time to the airport. She said that in those three minutes they had given away all the standby, it would take too long to go through security (and if you know Fresno, you can get through the whole process in 10 minutes) and were nearly loaded and ready to take off and the flight was closed. The end. What? What? I stood there unbelieving and was in such shock that I could only hang my head and cry, gulping back sobs. She did offer me the one seat on the 6:00 flight for a mere $1,000 dollars more (this is a flight on a propeller airplane to LA---something wasn't right) or I could leave at 2:30 this afternoon and arrive at midnight, 8 hours of travel and a terrible arrival time. In the end, she graciously changed my flight until tomorrow, "But you must be at least 30 minutes early" (insert grumpy face here), all the while I can barely talk having tears streaming down my face.

And so I'm mad! Mad at the lack of compassion and ridiculous officiousness of airport personnel. Mad that I was late. Mad that I could only stand there crying. Mad that my short 5 day visit is now cut down to 4 (was it really too much to ask for?). Mad that I can't quit crying and just get over it. I tease that this program is causing us to have PTSD, but it's not really a joke. I spent the week before last crying over every single little thing that happened. And now this. I should feel grateful I still get to go. I should feel happy that we have the money for this opportunity. I should have perspective that it's a minor set-back, no big deal, whatever. But I can''t generate those feelings. I crawled in my bed, have been crying all morning, and am at the point where I just don't care anymore (see what I meant about the whole reading my journal stuff?) I have no reserves left. 11 months of nursing school has taken a toll that I am incapable of overcoming at this minute. I'm pretty sure that will change in a few hours and I'll find perspective, but right now, I'm just mad. And so, so, sad.

How I spend my Saturday mornings

 

Yup. This is how I've spent most of my Saturday mornings since school has begun: watching Jr. High football. I love it except for the fact that it has been near or above 100 degrees for every single game and the stands always seem to face the sun (but what doesn't face the sun in California?) and as uncomfortable as I am, I get a little worried about the players, especially #71, my favorite starting center.

 

 

 

Lining up for the play and staring down the other players. That's his third favorite part of playing.

 Here's his second favorite part: the thrill of the snap!

And here is his favorite thing of all: blocking the players even when they are twice his size.

 He held this player off through the whole game

 

 

 

 

 

 Not MY favorite thing to watch but he sure does love it and is getting so much better at it. He's earned several "hammers" for his helmet this year. When I asked what that meant he said (I swear!) "Hard head".

 

Me: You get a hammer sticker for having a hard head? Uh...

Him: No mom, it's for hard hits.

Me: Oh. Well then... 

 

 The front line's had several plays where they've completely cleared the path for long runs straight up the middle and even a touchdown or two. When the runners brag about making the touchdown, Joe (gently I'm sure) reminds them who helped them get that touchdown. 

I never thought I'd love watching my own kid play football so much, especially when he comes home with bruises and cuts all over his body. By the end of the season his arms and legs are nearly solidly bruised.  I never thought I'd see a kid of mine proudly pointing to each bruise and explaining how he got it. Can you really get that giddy over hitting and being hit? I guess so, if Joe's anything to go by. And just a little shout out to all his siblings who helped him learn how to take a beating and still be laughing about it while in pain. I guess you all get a lot of the credit for who he is on the field.

 Go Team!

Be careful what you wish for...

So, in getting the wish of all wishes (for me anyway) my emotions have ranged from being higher than a kite, to dragging myself through the (metaphorical) sewers. You know the saying "It's all fun and games until..." Well, I found out what that "until" means. It means that you get to dream your fantasy dream about being a nurse until you hit the ground and have to spend the next 4 weeks at a flat-out run trying to get everything on the admission's list done "or you will be dropped from the program." Jeezelouise.

Try finding your immunization card when you had immunizations almost 50 years ago. So then you get to do the titer tests and pay an ungodly amount of money for someone to say "yes, you do have immunity for that." Then try to find a place that will do the immunizations you must have updated when your family doctor doesn't do them and the county health department doesn't offer them to adults.  Then get a TB test done, background check, drug testing (that's a whole nuther story in itself but note to self---don't do this on your birthday or on the day you start your period. That's all you get from me about this), get a physical, arrange for malpractice insurance, do the HIPAA training, sign-up for and start two classes you didn't know you would need before the end of school, figure out and finish financial aid junk, and on, and on, and on.  I'm exhausted and keep wondering what the heck I was thinking. You may think me shallow (I think I am also) but the one thing that has kept me going was one little paper included in my packet. It was the page that showed the various styles of uniforms I could order. I makes me so happy for some reason. I mean some of them are really cute! Then there is the page that outlines the classes I'll be taking. Gets my heart beating a little bit faster. Every. Single. Time. Let's start already!!!!

The results are in...

Here's what arrived in my inbox yesterday:

Dear Karen Barros,

Congratulations! The Admissions Committee of National University’s Department of Nursing has thoroughly reviewed your application for admission to the Nursing Program for the deadline ofJuly 13^th, 2012. You have been choosen as one of our selected candidates for Cohort 9, beginning in November 2012 term.

Can I get a Woot Woot!?

I have no other words. Pretty sure I'm in shock because I'm not feeling much of anything except the full weight of what I'm a now committed to. But for today, I'm gonna just chill and enjoy being wanted and qualified.

Summer Fun???

So...
For the last few months I have been working towards applying to a nursing program in Fresno. I thought that I was not ever going to pursue this again but after two years away from school, I one day just felt I needed to start looking into it again. I spent several unproductive weeks talking to the community college and several technical colleges about maybe starting with an LVN program but things just didn't work our there. The state colleges still have huge waiting lists (up to five years in some cases, straight lottery in others), I couldn't get the final classes I needed for the program for another year, and by the time I finished with that, I would have timed out some of my classes and would have had to start taking them from the beginning. None of that was going to work. Heck, I'll be fifty at the end of this month and there is no way I can take the time to start all over. That seemed like an answer to my question of should I or shouldn't I. But one day out of the blue (or whatever!) I thought about looking into National University. The next day I went to talk to an admissions officer and here is the gist of that conversation: You can start on Monday (it was Friday that we were talking) and take one class for each of the next three months and that will put you only 10 days from the deadline of applying for the November cohort. If you hadn't come in today, you wouldn't have made it and would have to wait until January to apply and then start in April. Whoa, so I had a whole day to decide if I could commit to a program that costs $1400 a course, and started in 3 days.

Speedy decisions are not my strong suit but both Allan and I were overwhelmed with excitement and good feelings. He because he knows how happy and content I am when I'm in school and me because I could finally, maybe, sorta, see a way to reach a dream I've had for many, many years. Seriously, every road block I threw in the way, every obstacle I could invent was blown away by minor and major miracles. Financial worries? No problem, let Me email you about a program you might not know about. Driving back and forth in that big clunking car of ours? Hey, why don't you look into getting a car from the Fresno Mission? Don't think you can do the math? Let me give you the best and easiest stat teacher on the planet.

So I took the classes, and applied for the program. Next came the biggest hurdle to date: the TEAS test. I bought the book, purchased the practice test and proceeded to completely melt down. I swear it was like I'd never taken a science, math or chemistry class in my life. But I studied and studied and studied. One night I was outlining one of the study books and it was as though I could see myself in the very situation that I had first learned the concept I was studying. I don't know how to describe it but for example, when I was reading about the periodic table I could see myself in my chem class listening to my teacher explain it. That was a very powerful experience. but even with all that help, I still couldn't get over a 74% on any of the practice tests. But the night before, I had an overwhelming feeling of peace and was relaxed and calm. Come what may, I thought.

20% of the application process was based on an essay written on the day of the test. The school offered a free seminar on essay writing and I was going to attend but that morning one of my visiting teachees called and asked if I could take her to the temple that morning. "No! I need to study!" was in my head but my mouth said, "Yes." My heart prayed that somehow I would be blessed for this sacrifice but I had little faith. A couple of days before the test I decided to spend the day writing an essay on a random subject relating to nursing school and had Michayla and Tori edit and critique it. I choose to explain some of the experiences in my life that had led me to nursing as a profession. Imagine my surprise and awe when as I watched the proctor write on the board the prompt for our essay: Question #2---Describe some of your life experiences that have contributed to your decision to become a nurse. I'd say the Lord allows tender mercies for even those of us with barely a little seed of faith.

The day of the test: First was the one hour time to write our essays, then we had 4 hours for the test. I took nearly every minute of the time, checking and rechecking and guessing at the answers to the questions. I was one of the last in my room to finish, about 50 of us. When you finish the test, you immediately get a score and print it and hand it to the proctor. I was not pleased with my 83.4%. There is no way I could complete for a spot in the program that admits only 20 of approx. 120 applicants with that low of a score. I gathered my stuff and trudged to the front to hand it in. the woman looked at it and said, "Great score!" What? She said that it was the highest she'd seen all day. What? Yeah, good job. That's when reaction set it. I barely made it down the stairs and to my car while sobs were building in my chest. By the time I got in, I was full out bawling and sat there for over twenty minutes blubbering and sobbing. I didn't think I was that stressed, but apparently, I was and the relief of just having it done and out of my hands was overwhelming. Looking at the printout, I was shocked to see that I was in the top 94% of the national average and 85% of the program average. Maybe I had a chance after all.

We were told that results of our applications would be sent out at the end of the month so imagine my surprise when I got this email the next week:

Dear KarenBarros,

Nursing Program applications are reviewed on a point based system. We look at four major areas: 1) number of attempts to pass your core sciences and statistic pre-requisite courses, 2) math and science based GPA, 3) the TEAS score and 4) the proctored essay. Each section is weighted to determine your overall admissions score.

The Admissions Committee of the National University Department of Nursing has thoroughly reviewed your application for admission to the nursing program.Unfortunately, your score is not high enough to be included in the top twenty, chosen to be in the November 2012 cohort.

You are welcome to apply for the next application deadline, which isJanuary 18th, 2012.

I was shocked. The rest of the email was about ways in which you can reapply, etc so I spent a few minutes looking it over and wondering if this was a final answer: NO. About fifteen minutes later I went back to my email and found this waiting: 

Hello Student,

My Email account just sent you a denial letter. Please disregard!!! It malfunctioned and send every applicant a denial letter. AGAIN, please disregard. I don’t have the top 20 students selected yet.

Oh. My. Heart, you may begin to beat again, thank you very much.

So, that is my summer adventure so far. I am still waiting for an answer and even though I don't expect it to come until the end of the month, every time I open my email, my heart skips a beat or two. I can't imagine not getting into the program, and I can't imagine getting in. So I'll probably be happy and depressed either way. Not sure how prepared I am for a program that lasts 23 months and expects between 60 and 80 hours a week of your time. But every time I think about being in the program, my heart beats a little faster, I can't catch my breath, and I feel like I'm floating. I'm either allergic or in love.

To be continued....

Okay Kristin. I will take your challenge and do the survey. Also not one of my favorite things but it's definitely time for a new post.

1. Blogging? Why?   It is an easy way to share a little about myself. Sometimes it is the not so great things and sometimes it the things I'm most proud of. I spend a lot of time in my head so it's nice to get out of there sometimes.
2. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?   One thing?? Okay. Calm down. It's not a test. On the inside I would be a better friend and be more out there. On the outside I would be skinny. Or just thinner. A little would be good.
3. Chocolate or vanilla? Think about it. We're talking ice cream here I'm assuming. Vanilla. Chocolate ice cream just because it's chocolate doesn't really do it for me. Of course if you add marshmallows, almonds and bananas I would change my vote.
4. What is your favorite movie genre? I'm a huge fan of the chick flick but it has to be more about the story than about the actors. Clean is also a huge plus.
5. What/Who inspires you? I love being around people who get knocked down, fuss and then pick themselves up and do it all over again. There are several people in my life right now that do this. I want to be just like them when I grow up.
6. What is the greatest lesson you have learned this last year?  Easy. God is there and aware of you in every single situation and even though sometimes He lets us suffer and experience pain, He also lets you know He is right there. I never experienced that like I did this last year but now I know it beyond just believing. I know.
7. Gun to your head: Pick one (ONLY one) favorite movie.  One???????? Okay, I can commit to that for about the same amount of time it takes to type this: Two Weeks Notice. I used to watch it once a month but have weaned myself to once or twice a year. Next question, hurry.
8. Where do you see yourself in five years? I will have graduated with my BSN and have been working for three years, some of that in L&D. I also will have a few more in-laws and grandchildren I hope (no pressure guys).
9. Dream travel spots? England/Great Britain. Mountains. Beach. Warmth. Light. Quiet.Wherever Allan is and no work or phone.
10. Random fact about yourself.  I still sleep talk and walk. Did it a lot as a kid and have started up again. Weird and not happy for those who sleep with me.
11. Favorite way to relax. Simple formula for me: Great book, sunflower seeds, coke zero, (Hershey's chocolate with almonds when the situation requires it) air conditioner or great breeze and comfortable bed and pillows. 

Maybe someone else is inspired to do the same survey. I'd like to read it. Try it. You'll like it!

Even I'm surprised at the difference.

What do you get when you buy eight of these beauties at the

thrift store for $20 (I love Ridgecrest thrift stores),

plus some really cute upholstery fabric from JoAnn's?

Yep, that's right: The cutest kitchen chairs on the planet.

I didn't expect that they would turn out this cute but I

am seriously crushing on them. They are comfortable to boot.

Before and After

Here they are. My lovelies lined up at the counter waiting each day for

someone to sit down and enjoy breakfast in style and comfort.

And, I used up more of that overwhelming craft stash.

That's two points for me. Yeah me!

Okay, so...

After a lot of thought (ie: procrastination) I decided to deal with the craft stuff. I ended up throwing some stuff away, giving away some, and keeping some (less than half thank you very much). It made organzing my sewing room a little easier and neater and well, just made my life a lot less full of burdens. Also, my resolve to not buy new craft stuff until I use up, get rid of, or give away what I already have is still holding. Yeah!

So I am moving on in a little bit lighter, freer, and happier way.

Who says people can't change?

I have this problem. Well, I don't think I'll call it a real problem, just an issue, really. I like crafts. I really, really do. I love looking at them. I like looking at books about them. I like watching people do them. I like dreaming and creating an idea about them. I love the challenge of figuring something out, a new way to do something, a new use for something old, and I'm pretty good at it. But when it comes down to it, I don't think I love doing it for any great period of time. Well the same one anyway.

I have a room that is filled to the gills (well, the edges of the room anyway) with a certain craft project that after doing it for several years, I'm kinda over it. I'm over the room that it takes up in my house for storage and to actually do the project. I'm over the huge amount of time I invest in planning and preparing and actually doing the thing. I'm over wondering what I'm going to do with the end result. This last one is so stressful for some reason: I always factor whether or not someone else would want what I'm making, either to receive as a gift or to buy, and so far only a few have been given away and none sold because I am paralized as how to do this.

The real problem is this: once I find a great idea I can't just get stuff for one or two of them. Noooo. I have to get supplies for 10 or 15 or 20. Everywhere I go I look for great deals on supplies and find them and buy them! Now I have a closet and 4 huge boxes filled with parts. I'll make 5 or 6 items, then the parts and supplies become an overwhelming burden that my brain seizes up and I can't go forward with any sense of fun or joy that the original creation provided. All of the sudden I have a job. A non-paying job so not only am I invested financially, I feel the burden to make up some of the money in sales. But again, the stress of selling.....

So now what? Do I force myself to do something that I am now hating for all the reasons stated above? Do I get rid of the supplies (I haven't invested a great amount of money so this option would not be awful, it just seems such a waste)? Do I hang on to the stuff in case I recover my desire to start up again, maybe, someday? Or would that be like all those hoarders I watch who can't let go of anything because a some point they might need it? We call my craft room the hoarding room because it frequently looks like something from that show. Can you be a hoarding when it's only one room? And a closet or two? After spending two hours yesterday cleaning it, I almost couldn't stop myself from continuing on and getting rid of everything in there. Sweet freedom from stuff! But here's the other question: Would that open the door on other craft projects? Right now I don't shop for any new ones because of what I have here, but if everything was gone, would I want to rush out and fill the void?

So many questions. So few answers.

The REAL reason for the tears

So if I said I knew it would you believe me? I know many people "know" things after the fact but this time it's true. Here's the story:

When I first saw the lump on Sarah's neck when I visited after Derek was born I was in total agreement with her mom: get that checked.

After after all the testing and the biopsy that revealed the suspicious nature of her thyroid and the possible outcomes I decided to do my own online research. I read through as much literature as I could and was cheered by the positive outcomes for so many people but as soon as I read the part about it spreading to the lymph nodes I felt that this was the path we (is it presumptuous to say we when I'm 1500 miles away? I hope not) were going to be on. It's not something I could say out loud because everyone, and I mean literally everyone from the people at the wedding reception to the nurse/practitioner at my annual gyn appointment said the same thing: It's the best cancer and the easiest to cure. Just take it out and maybe one treatment of radiation. So who wants to be downer-debbie and say, I think it might not be that easy.

But the surgery seemed to prove me wrong and really maybe my pessimistic nature was just taking over, I needed to chill. So when Sarah called today and said it was in the lymph nodes I just cried (I'm very sorry Sarah to not always be so tough). I cried because I realized those feelings were promptings or maybe warnings,and although it would have done no good sharing them before, I was sad. And also humbled to again recognize our Heavenly Father's hand in our lives. He knows us, and loves us, and it is His hand guiding our lives. And for that I have no end of gratitude.

Is there anyone out there?

So, I tell myself that I blog to keep a record of my life--sorta. A small and very incomplete record, but a record nonetheless. But I've found that I miss the comments that used to come my way. I guess I have more social needs than I thought. Maybe it's the lack of pictures or music or the soporific effect of my posts that keep people away. You all don't have smell-o-vision do you? Well, whatever it is I hope it passes and life as I knew it returns to normal.

And for those of you who need pictures this is for you:




(Who's needy now?) Sorry it won't let me upload any pictures today. I've been trying for 20 minutes and it's time to get on with the rest of my life.

Next time?

Jesus Took the Wheel

Here's something I don't like but have gone through six times now: Teaching a child to drive. The law says they have to have a gazillion hours of experience before they get their licence and are deemed ready and competent to be foisted upon the driving public at large. Does anyone think about the poor soul who has to sit in the seat next to them as they as learning and practicing? What of their fate? Today I had a small taste of what that fate could have been.

As Kit was driving home from Fresno today along Ave. 9 (I was the poor soul in the seat next to her) we were having a lovely time chatting and listening to the radio. I was relaxed because she was doing a great job driving, for once not cringing and slowing to incredible speeds as cars approached her or as we came to a curve in the road. But as everyone knows who has driven that road, it narrows cruelly and the edges are rough and frequently torn up with small drop offs. We were almost to the freeway when Kit went off the shoulder of the road into the dirt. It was a pretty good drop-off and nearly at the same time (although she has no recollection of this) I yelled that she was off the road and she overcorrected back on. We were thrown into the oncoming lane fishtailing like crazy, but she overcorrected again and we headed to the right side of the road again straight towards a telephone pole. We were literally seconds from hitting it head on, but mostly on my side of the car and all I could think was, "Wow, I always wondered about those people who die hitting a telephone pole and now I'm going to be one of them. Ironic." But here's the part I can't explain. The front of the car was suddenly beyond the pole but the back tire hit it and we were off in the other direction again. She finally pulled off the road and slowed to a stop. The whole time this was happening, Kit was yelling, "What do I do? I don't know what to do!" Even when we were stopped, she said it over and over and then busted up crying. I kept saying, "You're okay. You did just fine. We are fine." Then I got out and on shaking legs looked to see how bad the back of the car was damaged. Nothing. Really, the back hubcap was off, the tire rim was full of weeds but not a bump or scratch. (I think because it was the camry and it has taken 15 years of abuse from many a kid and accident and it's kinda hard to see what injuries are new, but I pretty sure).

As we drove on home, I laughed a little shakily about Kit yelling what to do over and over. She laughed too because she thought that she was only thinking that, not saying it out loud. She said, "I couldn't think what to do so I just let you do it," but I didn't touch the steering wheel. I have to say one of my all time favorite songs to mock is Jesus take the wheel. Really the dumbest song ever. But I have now experienced something like the sentiment of that song. We were not in control of the car, but I am sure someone else was. I am sure it was He is who has held me together for the rest of the day and only now, at midnight, do all the what-ifs come pouring in and I can't sleep.

Here's what I am grateful for tonight:

1. I am home, safe and sound only worrying about what could of happened and not what did.


2. I have a 16-year-old daughter who doesn't have to bear the scars of causing a serious, if not fatal accident. Although several times today I have told her I'm not going to forget that she almost killed me today.


3. The car that had been sitting on our rear bumper for 8 miles previously had for some reason fallen way back only minutes before so that when he passed us, we were safely on the side of the road.


4. There was no oncoming traffic.


5. I don't have to deal with expensive car repairs (insignificant in the scheme of things but a burden nontheless).


6. A loving Heavenly Father who watches over us, even when we don't feel worthy or are even aware that we need watching over.


7. There is only one more child to teach to drive. Maybe by the time he's old enough, I'll send him to one of his siblings for lessons. Not sure I can do it again. At least not today.

Spring Spring Spring

So. Time has flown and dragged significantly since the last time I posted. The more time had passed the less I was inclined to write anything or post any pictures. It's not for a lack of subject matter by any means because there have been a million things happen this year. Not sure why I put off writing but it finally got to a point where I decided I'll see if I can go a year between postings but I can't. See how bad I am at reaching goals? I can't even stick to a year long procrastination but quit a month early. I am pitiful.

Anyway. I woke up this morning to another beautiful (I know my Barros relatives are so not agreeing with me right now) day in the neighborhood. Cool weather, 52 degrees, cloudy/sunny skies, clear air. Spring is usually my very least favorite season due to its shortness (sometimes a week or two at the most) and its heralding of summer that is always too hot and too long. But this year? It has lasted and lasted and lasted. A few warm days every once in a while and then right back to cool, wet and windy. It was lovely for long enough to have our trees all get a good set of fruit, the garden is growing and the grass is brilliant green. But cool enough to wear sweaters for more than one month, I'm still okay in shoes and socks most of the time, and long pants feel good. But still, every day I wake up wondering if this is it. The beginning of the end. For some reason my pessimistic nature won't allow me to enjoy it fully. but secretly I cheer and hoot at the beauty and wonder of a cool and long spring.

If this is global warming, bring it on.

What's black and white and red all over?

Right...two new bags that are made from black and white and red suits.

I used the hardware and handles from an old purse.

After using this purse all weekend (I HAVE to see if they are usable or not!)

I've decided it's my favorite one yet.

I love the back pocket: The center stripe is from men's suit pants and

fits my sunglasses and keys perfectly.

The section on the left is the sleeve...

The section on the right is the front outside pocket of a different jacket

and perfectly fits my cell phone. Again---hate searching for it in a hurry.

And see what I mean about the labels?

"Stock Options" So adorable.

The second one here is made with some of the same jacket but the center fabric is a denim twill fabric that is sturdy and so cute---black and white stripe. I added an outside water bottle pocket out of the sleeve of the black and white houndstooth but not sure I like it. Maybe I'll redo it with snaps so that it can be removeable.

The inside is lined with red silk from a thrift store blouse.

I'm trying to figure out how to make a new website for the purses so that that isn't all that gets put on my blog even though it's what is taking most of my time lately. That way you can totally skip it if you want or just click on a link and go directly there.

I don't think I'll stop sewing these purses anytime soon. I have two more cut out and ideas for so many more. A spare closet has my recent purchases hanging there calling me to make them beautiful and wanted again. How can I say no?

Bag Number Two...

So here is the second attempt at making bags out of men's and women's suits. This one was harder to do for several reasons: I cut the pattern and fabric BEFORE I had really figured it out and it took a zillion tries to get it to work the way I wanted to, next time I'll think about it more and sew less; also, the stuff I used as interfacing was a lot stiffer than before and I'm not sure that's what I wanted either but the outside fabric was so soft and floppy I thought I needed it. Now I realize I probably didn't. It doesn't affect the look or use of the bag but was so irritating when piecing and sewing.

Anyway, here's the front. The bottom is a woman's jacket that had belt loops and cute pockets so I HAD to leave them on and add a belt for fun. The top is a woman's jacket also but so soft and yummy with cute zippers on the front and sleeves (look for those in a later bag I have planned). The handles are cannibalized from an old purse and the inside is a pair of men's suit pants that I couldn't resist. I've made it so that all the pockets are still functional so there are several outside pockets that are working well for the phone, glasses, keys, all the stuff I want to get to easily and hate when they get lost in the inside of a purse. Nothing worse than searching among the junk at the bottom of a purse when your phone is ringing and ringing and ringing...

Here's the back. I think it's my favorite part.

Just a cute flap pocket and simple belt and bottom.
The inside with a magnetic closure, slit pocket from the pants and that's it!

One of the interesting things this week is that 3 people tried to buy the red purse from me. Random people at the doctor's and thrift store (buying jacket's of course) and the grocery store. Joe has given me orders not to sell it but the last offer was good enough to consider if I'd only had somewhere to put all the stuff that was inside of it. Next time maybe I'll negotiate a sale if it includes them providing a bag to put my stuff in to take home!

Where old things become new...

Here's a riddle for you: What do you get when you cross McCall's pattern M5599, a long Wednesday morning and two fairly hideous thrift store jackets?

If you answered the cutest bag on the planet then you're right!

A couple weeks ago when we were waiting in Border's for our movie to start (dangerous thing waiting for the movie) I was looking through the craft magazines that I love but can't afford and saw the cutest purses and bags made out of men's suits and thought, "Hey I can do that!" I love men's jackets for the same reason the artist does: The fabric is great, the lining can be amazing and the labels are pure art.

So, as soon as possible, I went to the thrift store and found four or five blazers that were ugly as blazers but looked like good possibilities for bags. Then I found a bag pattern I loved and cut it out of stiff pelon. Then I used the pelon cutout to piece the blazer fabric on until I was satisfied with the result and before I knew it, a cute and unique purse appeared.

So, what was once weird cuffs and lapels,

became cute pockets and decorations.

What was once a front pocket became two outside pockets.

What was once the front buttons,

became the inside closure.

What was once a chest pocket and sleeve,

became an inside pocket and water bottle holder.

So all of you unwanted, unloved, ill-fitting,

outdated jackets, come over to my house.

It's where ugly becomes beautiful, outdated becomes sheik,

unloved becomes coveted and where old things become new.

The Coolest Thing I've seen in a While...

The airshow is in town for the weekend so all week planes have been flying in. But that's not the cool thing.

Last night at Joe's ball game one of the huge F-something-or-others flew over the ball fields making what looked like a super slow turn to the airport. It was loud and huge and pretty exciting. But that's still not the cool thing.

When I glanced down at the field to see what was happening in the game I saw every single boy on the field looking up in the sky with their mouths hanging open. That was COOL! Sometimes I wonder about kids and how fast they seem to have to grow up and about the loss of wonder in their lives but that view made me feel so good and surprisingly optimistic about their future. When they can stop playing ball and simultaneously watch a jet fly overhead with those looks on their faces, life is good again.

Wish, wish, wish I had my camera with me!

I looked out the window and what did I see?....

Yeah, you guessed it. Popcorn popping on the apricot tree.

And the plum tree. And almost popping on the nectarine and peach trees.

Cool huh?

Snow Trip Part Deaux

So we attempted the snow trip again last weekend and Yahoo!!! It was a great success. The temperature was in the 60's, the roads were clear and we found a fabulous and fast hill to slide down for several hours. Plus, Dustin and Tara and Lydia were with us! Below are my four favorite faces of the day:

Pookie finally gets to play in the snow. What a strange dog. She caught snowball after snowball in her mouth that we threw for her even after they exploded in her face.

Now that's a much happier face than last time.


What a sweetheart Lydia was. She had a ball squealing up and down the hills: Excited going up knowing what was coming and excited going down. What a nut.

And seriously, who couldn't love this face? I'm a bit fond of it.

Kacey spent most of the day digging this hole.

Don't know why but she was happy and

ended up with a hole that was nearly over her head

Then she sat in it. Hmmmm...

Go to Tori! She went all the way to the top and slide down on her

bottom over and over and over again.

Go mommy and Kacey! Finally got her out of her hole!

An epic snowball fight. What you don't see is the little 8-year-old-girl they are fighting (she had a little back up from her brothers). She was a fearless little thing zooming down the hill and taking on the Barros Brothers alone or with help. She just didn't care!

Even Pookie got to ride down the hill. No willingly and not often.

I did say that it was a fast hill, didn't I?

Go little family! I'm sad this isn't video because you really

could hear her from a long ways away.

Snow Trip

A few weeks ago we attempted a trip to the snow. It was a weekend of wild and wooly weather, but what week hasn't been wild this winter. For those of you who live in the snow this will seem so easy, get up, put your snow clothes on and walk out the door and sled down the hill right next to your house. For those of us living in sunny california it's a bit more complicated. First: find the clothes you haven't used in a year. Figure out what fits and what doesn't. Shop at the thrift stores for what you need to replace the old, too small, or worn out stuff. Next: Pack lunch, boil plenty of water for hot chocolate and cup-o-noodles and pack all into the car. Last: locate the snow discs and board that are supposed to be just inside the garage but really hide in the trailer that is parked 10 miles out of town. After several hours (and only a few bad words) later, we're off to the mountains

We have a lovely drive to the mountains in wet and stormy weather but we are not afraid because we are prepared in all ways for bad weather. Except one. We didn't pack the snow chains. No cars are allowed into the park without carrying chains even though we are assured they will not be needed. So...back down the mountain to get chains: only a half an hour down and then half an hour back. The trip back is different though. The road is completely changed. There are rocks, pine needles, dirt and branches covering the road and tons of traffic going the opposite direction. By the time we got up to the park entrance again, we were informed that the park was closing (how do you close a mountain?) because of strong winds that blew trees over and crunched cars trapping people in the park and out of it. The ranger was even blocked from his home beyond the park.

To make a short story long, that was the end of our snow trip. We drove down the mountain a ways and ate our picnic lunch in the church parking lot. Poor Joe. He had been waiting for a snow trip for two years. Poor Pookie who also loves the snow. Poor mom and dad who had put up with a long and frustrating day with no apparent reward.

Beginning of the day, so optomistic and innocent.

Gotta love the happy face in this picture!