All! I've been so anxious to be back with you again after last week's somewhat epic and lengthy post about me buying a car with a manual transmission without actually knowing how to drive it.
Yeeeaaaaaaahhhhh. That was really stressful.
But I've gotten some things out of this process, and not just the ability to now drive the car. Let's settle in and chat!
Friends...last week was LONG. There were swear words (real bad ones, too :0). There were tears. There were so many setbacks. There was an overwhelming feeling that I would never get it right and learn how to drive this car. I barely slept. I lost 2 lbs. This was FOR SERIOUS.
On Saturday, I gave long suffering Mike a much needed break, and went out with my mother-in-law to a big, empty parking lot for about 2 hours, just practicing getting the car going from a dead stop. That was the foundational skill I was struggling with the most, and indeed, the one most people struggle with when they're learning to drive a stick shift. She observed that I was releasing the clutch pedal too quickly, thereby causing the car to buck around violently even if it did manage to get it going, or stall if I didn't simultaneously give the car enough gas. Once we honed in on that, and fine tuned a few other things (I wasn't waiting for the clutch and gas to "catch" together before releasing the clutch slowly and easing on more gas) I noticed that I was getting the car going smoothly. Once I was getting the car going smoothly with some consistency, I began to realize that my feet were doing A Thing and that what they were doing could be duplicated again and again and again. Each time I did The Thing, I did not stall, or buck, or generally cause the car considerable angst.
Suddenly, I felt that magical moment deep down in my feet when the clutch and gas pedal met in perfect symphony, and the car would begin to move forward. If I then eased my left foot off the clutch, rather than rushing it, like I *had* been doing, I was GOLDEN. It truly was a matter of feel, and once I felt it, I committed it to my muscle memory. I practiced it another 300 times just to be safe ;-) but I knew a breakthrough had been made: I had learned how to get a manual transmission car going from a dead stop into 1st gear, and I had learned how to do it consistently. THAT is the key. Not really understanding what works and what doesn't on a consistent basis, not having The Thing going on with your feet, causes you to lurch and stall. Lurching and stalling causes you to become frustrated and anxious. Becoming frustrated and anxious causes you to lurch and stall even MORE. It's like learning to drive while on a continual, evil loop down in Satan's School of Driving and Minion Training. You know. In HELL.
After what felt like the 90th loop around the parking lot, I drove confidently to the exit and put on my right blinker. I was ready to drive out in traffic, and I knew it.
We drove around for about 30 minutes, coming to tons of stop signs. Each time I got the car going with ease, and upshifted from 1st through 5th gears with no problems. I had it, and an enormous weight had been lifted from my chest.
Granted, my downshifting into turns still needs some work, and I still have never driven on the highway. Being on an incline and rolling back before moving forward again makes my heart stop beating. I'm certain that I'll still go through some small setbacks along the way until I have a lot more experience under my belt. BUT. I've come a long way, baby. I can drive myself places now, and I've been doing so ever since. It's going to take a lot of experience before I can get in the car without butterflies, but I can officially say that I have learned how to drive a stick shift.
So, on our progress chart, we have this:
Week 1 - F bombs. Sobs. Throwing of self onto steering wheel in despair. Stalls, stalls, stalls.
Week 2 - Butterflies. Pep Talks:
"You can do this, girl. You can totally do this!"
"Go little Fit, Go! That was a good one!"
Hopefully, people think I'm simply using the Bluetooth to talk on my phone. :0
Surges of hope. Feelings of accomplishment. The joy of knowing that I truly am not too old to learn new and challenging skills.
I know it's just a car. But it feels like a really big deal to me. I took something that I'd always wanted to learn, something that did not come very easily to me at all, and I worked at it until I could do it. This is something that could apply to so many things in life, yes?
Sunday I went to Piercing Pagoda with my friend Brandy to get her ears pierced. Brandy had never had her ears pierced because of a very deep seated fear from her childhood. She had always wanted to do this, but thought she wouldn't be able to because the anxiety felt so debilitating, like something she could not overcome. I relate very much to debilitating anxiety, and so this weekend we took on some scary new things together. Brandy got her ears pierced. Afterward, I got very emotional and cried, telling her how much I loved her and how much it has meant to me to have met her and become her friend. How much she inspires me to try new things, things that I am afraid of, things that make me learn and grow as a person. Yep, right there in the middle of the mall. :0
I felt God's hand in all of this. Maybe I needed to get Fit so that I could challenge myself in this new way, and become a stronger person, a lifelong learner. Perhaps it'll inspire courage in me at some future point in which someone really needs me to be brave. Perhaps it was so that I could be there for Brandy, so that we could face fears together and grow from that. Perhaps it's so that I will continue to grow in empathy and charity towards others. I suspect that it is ALL of these things.
It was a good weekend, a really good one, filled with faith, family and friends. We went out to dinner with my in-laws on Saturday following the 5 pm vigil Mass at our parish, in which Henry served on the altar (I drove us!). It occurred to me that this truly is the good life.
That's my week in review. Work is pretty intense right now, but it's going well. Our teaching for the semester will be done in early November, and I'm really looking forward to that. I'm headed to the NY Sheep & Wool Festival next weekend, and I'm REALLY looking forward to *that*!
I miss chatting with you all in Tea Time. We'll be back to that soon enough!
How are you all doing? Do you have any stories to relay about learning things that actually apply in multiple ways? Let's hear them!
Showing posts with label car troubles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label car troubles. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 10, 2017
Wednesday, October 4, 2017
"WHY have I never learned to think things through more?!" *tears!* Adventures in ill advised life decisions :0
It's been quite a week since the last time we talked. Remember how I mentioned the stressful car repair situation? Well, that took a somewhat surprising turn. The past 6 days or so have been a blur of emotions and prayer, let me tell you. You got time to chat? I need it. Let's get our beverages!
So, last Thursday, right after I last posted, I got a call from my mechanic about the part my aging Honda Civic needed. I had been feeling anxious about hearing from him, because the car was really in bad shape, and I didn't feel totally safe driving it. I get a message from him, and call him back between classes. When he hears that it's me, he says:
"Oh yes. Well. This isn't going to be cheap."
This from the man whom I regularly pay $600 at a time for various and sundry car-related reasons.
I braced myself for the total, now that he had the part actually lined up: $1700.
😱
My car is nearly 18 years old. Now that the number was concrete, Mike and I agreed that it just wasn't worth it to get it fixed. We fretted about coming up with the money for the down payment, but we have savings for this very reason. We'd look for a lease we could afford and hope for the best.
I suppose that's where the worrying process began, but ironically, money turned out not to be the main concern at all. :0
I had my heart set on a Honda Fit. When I bought my Civic back in 2000, they didn't yet have the Fit in their fleet. The Fit is the perfect size for me, and I ADORE hatchbacks. I had one in my very first car, a Nissan Sentra from the 80's, and the thought of having one again really appealed to me. I can put the seats down, get my dance paraphernalia in there, giant Scentsy boxes, the Christmas tree... ;-) They also get great fuel mileage, and are incredibly adorable. Plus, they're less expensive than Civic. Win/win, right?
Well. It's the end of the model year. The great leasing deals are on the 2017 vehicles, not the new 2018 ones. There aren't many 2017 Fits left to be had anywhere, and throughout Central and Western New York, all the way down to Erie, the only vehicles remaining all had manual transmissions.
"Do you know how to drive a manual, Tiffany?" you reasonably ask. Not exactly. But yet, what is sitting in my driveway at home right now?
YEAH. What can I say? I had a bold moment. I suppose some people would just say that I've lost my mind.
In fact, at this moment, *I* think that I have lost my mind. But Mike drives a manual and loves it, and is SO EXCITED to teach me. I suppose true love made me do it?
"Hon. This bold side of you is really...NICE."
*meaningful look*
Is this a guy thing? 😳
Pretty sure it is, but right now, I have LOTS of other things occupying my little brain.
I have been driving for 25 years. Until Saturday, I had never driven a car with a manual transmission. But guess what? I now have no choice. This not-quite-middle-aged mom, librarian and belly dancer has to learn how to drive a stick shift. And let's just say that it's going a tad rough:
"OK, what the *%;#! with this clutch/acceleration thing to get started?! How did cars even evolve like this? WHO ever thought this was a feasible long term model?!"
"All right. I got it that time. I'm doing better, right? Now...Wait, what just happened? CRAP!!"
"I'm not going to stall this time. I'm determined not to. We'll just give it a little more gas..."
*SCREECH SQUEAL JERK!*
*delicate clearing of throat*
"See? That was...'better.'"
"Look! It's moving! Oh God. There's another car! I don't want him to come near me!!"
My poor, poor husband. But he, and everyone else who drives a stick shift, tell me that I'm:
"...already 80% of the way there since you already know how to drive!"
Um, NO. I don't feel like I'm 80% of the way there. In fact, I feel like I'm 16 years old and that I'm learning how to drive all over again. I am here to tell you, good and gentle readers, that this is NOT a very pleasant feeling.
Sunday night, after an outing with more stalls and jerks back to a start than I could possibly count, I was in tears. Mike keept reassuring me that I'm coming along fine, that it takes WEEKS to get comfortable with a stick shift, and that this is all a very normal part of the learning process. But I tell you, dear readers...this is HARD. I mean, I'm certain not everyone finds it all that difficult to learn how to drive a stick shift, but this is hard *emotionally*. It is a humbling, humbling experience to take something for granted, something that you've been able to do for decades, and suddenly be thrust back into Beginner Land, complete with honking horns, angry faces, and overall truculent nostril flares by others who do not realize what you are going through.
I haven't been able to sleep, and in the evenings, I cannot knit or otherwise relax the way that I used to. My mind is constantly racing with my fears that I will never master this skill, that I will continue to embarrass myself in public, that I made a huge mistake which I will regret every single day for the next 3 years, and that I'll never regain the independence I once enjoyed when I felt comfortable driving.
Monday morning I woke up emotionally fragile. I felt like a loser, a Manual Transmission School Drop Out. I drove my in-laws' automatic to work, fearful that I wasn't ready yet for longer journeys. I felt shaky and apprehensive about everything I was going to face that day. I had moved office spaces on Friday, and so Monday morning before my 9 am class I opened the door to my new office for the very first time, feeling a surge of hope that the clean, refreshed space would lift my spirits.
There was a man standing in my window.
People, I could not make this stuff up. :0
*SPLAT!*
While I watched incredulously, he schlacked some goo from the metal tool he was holding onto the bricks on the outside of the library. This was actually happening. I had a brick mason over my shoulder, in my window, for the entire day. While I lesson planned. Ate lunch. Graded student work. My buddy was there. A guardian angel of sorts? Likely not, the entire thing felt incredibly awkward. An omen of things to come?
😨
Even worse, I knew that I had to get back on the horse. The paperwork is signed, the deal is done. I'm stuck with the car. I love her, she's adorable and precious, she just scares the s*%! out of me right now.
I left for the day braced for my evening practice session.
I did not want to get back in that car. But I knew that I had to. The fear was only going to fester the longer I let it go.
After dinner, Mike and I headed out. I was still stalling the car, but somewhat less often. Unfortunately, this meant that I was overcompensating on the gas pedal and jerking the car forward with a squeal quite a bit. But not stalling boosted my confidence, and I needed that VERY badly. We made it out onto slightly busier roads than the side streets we had stuck to before, and I managed all right. I kept it together and didn't stall. Mike said that I was ready to drive myself to my fitness class later that evening.
I want my Mommy.
I didn't want to, but I knew that I had to. Fit and I headed out to the dance studio.
I stalled backing out onto the street. But I got her restarted like a champ, and bumped my way along. The rest of the way there, I did some jerking and squealing, but I did not stall. I made it to the studio alive, and I call that a huge win given the circumstances. The way home was even better. I was freaking out because the house I parked in front of had people outside, and I knew that if I stalled or squealed my tires they would see me. But I didn't. I got it going well and even eased into a left turn in 2nd gear with no problems. No stalls at all on that trip. Things were still fragile, but they were improving.
Yesterday, I had my best trip yet (relatively speaking :0). We went out on busier roads, and I didn't stall AT ALL. Well, unless you count that crazy situation with the Bobcat digger thing pulling unexpectedly out into traffic, which I do NOT. 😎And my jerking starts are getting decidedly less bad. Suddenly, I can feel a difference on the pedals. I've realized a few things about how to let up on the clutch and depress the gas pedal, and it's showing. It's still not anywhere near 100% smooth starts, but I've clearly improved. For the first time, I feel hope that I actually will learn how to drive this car.
I'm still not driving it to work yet. Yes, I know that I need to just do this and that's how my learning process will reach it's zenith, but I'm being kind to myself. I'm getting there, I really am. I want to nurture my confidence for a few more days. We're going to do a practice run tonight.
I know that I may experience a setback at some point. After steadily improving, you may stall again at a very inopportune time. It happens. But my motivation and determination are high. I want to learn this. I can do this.
Jesus, please take the wheel. :0
This has all reminded me of something very important. When I was in library school, I had an instructor for my Reference and User Services course who was very serious about professional librarianship. She did not like shortcuts and lazy librarians. I remember very clearly her saying to us once:
"Always bear in mind that not all answers can be found THE EASY WAY."
*stern look*
Sometimes, challenges are good for us. Granted, learning to drive a stick shift is hardly some important act of public service, or a larger spiritual goal. But allowing ourselves to be lifelong learners, and not always making the comfortable choice, makes us better people beneath the surface. This can then lead us to step forward in situations that DO have a larger spiritual or charitable component.
I was listening to a podcast yesterday morning, in which Fr. Roderick mentioned that:
"Fear stifles exploration. And exploration is a GOOD."
It is, it really is! I certainly have moments when I wish I had just gotten a different car, so that I could have just gotten an automatic transmission, and I wouldn't be going through this stress right now. But this has been good for me. It has made me realize that I'm not too old to try new things, to have confidence that I can master an unfamiliar skill. I still have a long way to go, but I have faith that it's going to work out just fine.
All right. Let me hear from you. Who thinks I have lost my mind?! :0 More importantly, who here drives a stick shift?! I need some words of commiseration!
So, last Thursday, right after I last posted, I got a call from my mechanic about the part my aging Honda Civic needed. I had been feeling anxious about hearing from him, because the car was really in bad shape, and I didn't feel totally safe driving it. I get a message from him, and call him back between classes. When he hears that it's me, he says:
"Oh yes. Well. This isn't going to be cheap."
This from the man whom I regularly pay $600 at a time for various and sundry car-related reasons.
I braced myself for the total, now that he had the part actually lined up: $1700.
😱
My car is nearly 18 years old. Now that the number was concrete, Mike and I agreed that it just wasn't worth it to get it fixed. We fretted about coming up with the money for the down payment, but we have savings for this very reason. We'd look for a lease we could afford and hope for the best.
I suppose that's where the worrying process began, but ironically, money turned out not to be the main concern at all. :0
I had my heart set on a Honda Fit. When I bought my Civic back in 2000, they didn't yet have the Fit in their fleet. The Fit is the perfect size for me, and I ADORE hatchbacks. I had one in my very first car, a Nissan Sentra from the 80's, and the thought of having one again really appealed to me. I can put the seats down, get my dance paraphernalia in there, giant Scentsy boxes, the Christmas tree... ;-) They also get great fuel mileage, and are incredibly adorable. Plus, they're less expensive than Civic. Win/win, right?
Well. It's the end of the model year. The great leasing deals are on the 2017 vehicles, not the new 2018 ones. There aren't many 2017 Fits left to be had anywhere, and throughout Central and Western New York, all the way down to Erie, the only vehicles remaining all had manual transmissions.
"Do you know how to drive a manual, Tiffany?" you reasonably ask. Not exactly. But yet, what is sitting in my driveway at home right now?
YEAH. What can I say? I had a bold moment. I suppose some people would just say that I've lost my mind.
In fact, at this moment, *I* think that I have lost my mind. But Mike drives a manual and loves it, and is SO EXCITED to teach me. I suppose true love made me do it?
"Hon. This bold side of you is really...NICE."
*meaningful look*
Is this a guy thing? 😳
Pretty sure it is, but right now, I have LOTS of other things occupying my little brain.
I have been driving for 25 years. Until Saturday, I had never driven a car with a manual transmission. But guess what? I now have no choice. This not-quite-middle-aged mom, librarian and belly dancer has to learn how to drive a stick shift. And let's just say that it's going a tad rough:
"OK, what the *%;#! with this clutch/acceleration thing to get started?! How did cars even evolve like this? WHO ever thought this was a feasible long term model?!"
"All right. I got it that time. I'm doing better, right? Now...Wait, what just happened? CRAP!!"
"I'm not going to stall this time. I'm determined not to. We'll just give it a little more gas..."
*SCREECH SQUEAL JERK!*
*delicate clearing of throat*
"See? That was...'better.'"
"Look! It's moving! Oh God. There's another car! I don't want him to come near me!!"
My poor, poor husband. But he, and everyone else who drives a stick shift, tell me that I'm:
"...already 80% of the way there since you already know how to drive!"
Um, NO. I don't feel like I'm 80% of the way there. In fact, I feel like I'm 16 years old and that I'm learning how to drive all over again. I am here to tell you, good and gentle readers, that this is NOT a very pleasant feeling.
Sunday night, after an outing with more stalls and jerks back to a start than I could possibly count, I was in tears. Mike keept reassuring me that I'm coming along fine, that it takes WEEKS to get comfortable with a stick shift, and that this is all a very normal part of the learning process. But I tell you, dear readers...this is HARD. I mean, I'm certain not everyone finds it all that difficult to learn how to drive a stick shift, but this is hard *emotionally*. It is a humbling, humbling experience to take something for granted, something that you've been able to do for decades, and suddenly be thrust back into Beginner Land, complete with honking horns, angry faces, and overall truculent nostril flares by others who do not realize what you are going through.
I haven't been able to sleep, and in the evenings, I cannot knit or otherwise relax the way that I used to. My mind is constantly racing with my fears that I will never master this skill, that I will continue to embarrass myself in public, that I made a huge mistake which I will regret every single day for the next 3 years, and that I'll never regain the independence I once enjoyed when I felt comfortable driving.
Monday morning I woke up emotionally fragile. I felt like a loser, a Manual Transmission School Drop Out. I drove my in-laws' automatic to work, fearful that I wasn't ready yet for longer journeys. I felt shaky and apprehensive about everything I was going to face that day. I had moved office spaces on Friday, and so Monday morning before my 9 am class I opened the door to my new office for the very first time, feeling a surge of hope that the clean, refreshed space would lift my spirits.
There was a man standing in my window.
People, I could not make this stuff up. :0
*SPLAT!*
While I watched incredulously, he schlacked some goo from the metal tool he was holding onto the bricks on the outside of the library. This was actually happening. I had a brick mason over my shoulder, in my window, for the entire day. While I lesson planned. Ate lunch. Graded student work. My buddy was there. A guardian angel of sorts? Likely not, the entire thing felt incredibly awkward. An omen of things to come?
😨
Even worse, I knew that I had to get back on the horse. The paperwork is signed, the deal is done. I'm stuck with the car. I love her, she's adorable and precious, she just scares the s*%! out of me right now.
I left for the day braced for my evening practice session.
I did not want to get back in that car. But I knew that I had to. The fear was only going to fester the longer I let it go.
After dinner, Mike and I headed out. I was still stalling the car, but somewhat less often. Unfortunately, this meant that I was overcompensating on the gas pedal and jerking the car forward with a squeal quite a bit. But not stalling boosted my confidence, and I needed that VERY badly. We made it out onto slightly busier roads than the side streets we had stuck to before, and I managed all right. I kept it together and didn't stall. Mike said that I was ready to drive myself to my fitness class later that evening.
I want my Mommy.
I didn't want to, but I knew that I had to. Fit and I headed out to the dance studio.
I stalled backing out onto the street. But I got her restarted like a champ, and bumped my way along. The rest of the way there, I did some jerking and squealing, but I did not stall. I made it to the studio alive, and I call that a huge win given the circumstances. The way home was even better. I was freaking out because the house I parked in front of had people outside, and I knew that if I stalled or squealed my tires they would see me. But I didn't. I got it going well and even eased into a left turn in 2nd gear with no problems. No stalls at all on that trip. Things were still fragile, but they were improving.
Yesterday, I had my best trip yet (relatively speaking :0). We went out on busier roads, and I didn't stall AT ALL. Well, unless you count that crazy situation with the Bobcat digger thing pulling unexpectedly out into traffic, which I do NOT. 😎And my jerking starts are getting decidedly less bad. Suddenly, I can feel a difference on the pedals. I've realized a few things about how to let up on the clutch and depress the gas pedal, and it's showing. It's still not anywhere near 100% smooth starts, but I've clearly improved. For the first time, I feel hope that I actually will learn how to drive this car.
I'm still not driving it to work yet. Yes, I know that I need to just do this and that's how my learning process will reach it's zenith, but I'm being kind to myself. I'm getting there, I really am. I want to nurture my confidence for a few more days. We're going to do a practice run tonight.
I know that I may experience a setback at some point. After steadily improving, you may stall again at a very inopportune time. It happens. But my motivation and determination are high. I want to learn this. I can do this.
Jesus, please take the wheel. :0
This has all reminded me of something very important. When I was in library school, I had an instructor for my Reference and User Services course who was very serious about professional librarianship. She did not like shortcuts and lazy librarians. I remember very clearly her saying to us once:
"Always bear in mind that not all answers can be found THE EASY WAY."
*stern look*
Sometimes, challenges are good for us. Granted, learning to drive a stick shift is hardly some important act of public service, or a larger spiritual goal. But allowing ourselves to be lifelong learners, and not always making the comfortable choice, makes us better people beneath the surface. This can then lead us to step forward in situations that DO have a larger spiritual or charitable component.
I was listening to a podcast yesterday morning, in which Fr. Roderick mentioned that:
"Fear stifles exploration. And exploration is a GOOD."
It is, it really is! I certainly have moments when I wish I had just gotten a different car, so that I could have just gotten an automatic transmission, and I wouldn't be going through this stress right now. But this has been good for me. It has made me realize that I'm not too old to try new things, to have confidence that I can master an unfamiliar skill. I still have a long way to go, but I have faith that it's going to work out just fine.
All right. Let me hear from you. Who thinks I have lost my mind?! :0 More importantly, who here drives a stick shift?! I need some words of commiseration!
Wednesday, September 27, 2017
When good weeks turn bad...
I'd been having a really good week. And then...well, you know how it is. :0
Monday: I am all aglow from outstanding weekend of dance workshops and performances. My friends came to see me dance, and I feel super confident, happy and floaty. I come to class Monday, and the students who couldn't read the words "My Groups" last week are suddenly rock stars, formulating dreamy research questions and finding solid peer reviewed articles on their topics. I end the day dreaming of choreographing a solo with a vintage Golden Era theme for the winter hafla, and feeling like Super Librarian.
*attaches cape*
Tuesday: I wake up stuffy.
*ominous music cues up in the background*
Classes still go good, and additional classes who struggled last week really shined this week. But I feel worse and worse physically as the day wears on. As well, I had dropped my car off at the mechanic. It was making "a noise" and I was thinking that something was going on with the front brakes. I wasn't exactly looking forward to the bill, but it needed to be done. Well.
😒
It's something else. Something about an arm in the wheel well? Actually, that sounds even WORSE than I intend it to, but needless to say that it's a much more involved fix than the brakes, in both time and expense. The mechanic doesn't even know for sure that he can find the part, because my car is so old.
Don't laugh at her. She's a good old car. :0
So I need to hope that (a) the mechanic finds the part so that he can charge me $1500 to fix this involved and complicated thing, or (b) that he can't find the part and I have to get a new car. Which sounds good, but we really can't afford that right now. So (a) is somehow the better option?
😭
I get home and feel uber cranky. My cold and voice worsen as the night wears on and I go to bed at 8 pm. And did I mention that it's been like 90 freaking degrees here for nearly the past week, and we can't sleep because it's so sticky and uncomfortable? Good Grief.
#IT'SSEPTEMBER! #whattheheck?!
Mike then coughs the entire night and I glare over at his side of the bed, although it is clearly not his fault.
Wednesday: I wake up exhausted after tossing and turning the entire night. I am even stuffier and beginning to cough. There is still no word from the mechanic on the part he's trying to find.
#Grand
I can barely talk during my classes. Oh, and now I'm developing a fever rash.
THIS, my friends, is a good week gone bad. :0 It could be worse, it is true. I'm actually feeling positive overall, just wishing that the suck factor would ease a hair. I'm praying the St. Therese novena, so things can't be all bad, right? ;-)
How is your week going, gentle reader? I hope that it's going better than mine!
Monday: I am all aglow from outstanding weekend of dance workshops and performances. My friends came to see me dance, and I feel super confident, happy and floaty. I come to class Monday, and the students who couldn't read the words "My Groups" last week are suddenly rock stars, formulating dreamy research questions and finding solid peer reviewed articles on their topics. I end the day dreaming of choreographing a solo with a vintage Golden Era theme for the winter hafla, and feeling like Super Librarian.
*attaches cape*
Tuesday: I wake up stuffy.
*ominous music cues up in the background*
Classes still go good, and additional classes who struggled last week really shined this week. But I feel worse and worse physically as the day wears on. As well, I had dropped my car off at the mechanic. It was making "a noise" and I was thinking that something was going on with the front brakes. I wasn't exactly looking forward to the bill, but it needed to be done. Well.
😒
It's something else. Something about an arm in the wheel well? Actually, that sounds even WORSE than I intend it to, but needless to say that it's a much more involved fix than the brakes, in both time and expense. The mechanic doesn't even know for sure that he can find the part, because my car is so old.
Don't laugh at her. She's a good old car. :0
So I need to hope that (a) the mechanic finds the part so that he can charge me $1500 to fix this involved and complicated thing, or (b) that he can't find the part and I have to get a new car. Which sounds good, but we really can't afford that right now. So (a) is somehow the better option?
😭
I get home and feel uber cranky. My cold and voice worsen as the night wears on and I go to bed at 8 pm. And did I mention that it's been like 90 freaking degrees here for nearly the past week, and we can't sleep because it's so sticky and uncomfortable? Good Grief.
#IT'SSEPTEMBER! #whattheheck?!
Mike then coughs the entire night and I glare over at his side of the bed, although it is clearly not his fault.
Wednesday: I wake up exhausted after tossing and turning the entire night. I am even stuffier and beginning to cough. There is still no word from the mechanic on the part he's trying to find.
#Grand
I can barely talk during my classes. Oh, and now I'm developing a fever rash.
THIS, my friends, is a good week gone bad. :0 It could be worse, it is true. I'm actually feeling positive overall, just wishing that the suck factor would ease a hair. I'm praying the St. Therese novena, so things can't be all bad, right? ;-)
How is your week going, gentle reader? I hope that it's going better than mine!
Friday, October 1, 2010
A game of "What's That Noise?!" and "Where's That Stitch?!"
I guess my "one of those days" from Tuesday has now morphed into "one of those weeks." It hasn't been terrible by any stretch of the imagination, but it's always the little things.
I was feeling tired and emotional yesterday, and I knew that I had Hank by myself for the evening, since Mike had a late class. I had an ambitious after-work agenda: grocery store, public library, fetch Hank, home. Make soothing dinner based on grocery store additions, watch new Thomas the Tank Engine movie procured from the public library with Hank, grab a warm shower, get Hank in jammies, read books with him, get him tucked in and sleeping, greet Mike, knit, bed. It all seemed very doable.
As I trucked away from campus in my little Honda, I gave my car a pat and told him how happy I was that he seemed to be staving off that new muffler that I can tell he's angling for. The car had been a tad noisier than usual, and in small sedans you need exhaust work every 2-3 years commonly. It's been about 3 since my last foray to Mufflerman, so I knew I was on borrowed time, but I buttered Civic up and told him how proud I was of him. Every pay period has been perilous here lately. We've just had a bunch of necessary expenses all hit at one time. Tuition, books, fee for a licensing exam Mike needs to take, taxes, school clothes for Henry, mortgage, etc. I just hoped to have a bit of a chance to recover.
I hop on the highway, and it happened. You know.
*happy putter* *POP* *BBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*
The whole highway turns to stare at you. You slouch down in your seat. You sigh. You may say a very bad word. You get huffy.
I'm so used to this with my car that it doesn't faze me anymore. I've had Civic for 10 years, and like I mentioned, new exhaust work every 2-3 years. I don't even pull over anymore. I just keep driving and pray for Mufflerman to miraculously move closer to my physical position. So, my new evening agenda now looks like this:
Henry. Mufflerman. Public library. Grocery store. Home.
I grab Hank from his after school program and we head to Mufflerman. 30 minutes and $250 later, we emerge with a quiet and happy car. *sighs*
By this time, someone was starving and cranky. And Hank was getting a bit restless too. We fetch Thomas and the groceries (including a box of super heroes popsicles, since he really took the Mufflerman visit better than I did), and head home. Hank bounces around the house while I make us the ultimate comfort dinner of grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. I grab my shower while Hank watches Thomas. Mike gets home a few minutes early and is all worried about the car expenses, since his car needed about $300 worth of work last week. It was necessary, certainly, but worrisome, and it takes its toll on both of our moods. This makes me even more emotional than before.
Mike gets Hank to sleep, and as I sulkily work my mom's socks (my very first pair!) I notice that I'm mysteriously missing a stitch. Now. I'm very used to dropped stitches. Because, well, I drop them all the time. And a dropped stitch in knitting is extremely telltale. You see this big gap and then a little ladder of loose yarn where the stitch is unraveling. I've learned how to pick them back up and fix them. On these socks, I'd just started the heel flap, which was probably a bad idea given how porky I was mixed with the fact that I've never knitted a sock before, and the heel is one of the most difficult parts. I had counted as I rearranged the stitches to begin the heel flap, and I had 32 for the flap, 32 in reserve, just like I was supposed to. I knit a row, purl a row, then go back and complete a row of alternating slipped stitches and knits, just like the directions say. Except...I end with a slip, and that just doesn't seem right. Sure enough, I go back and count and there are only 31 stitches there. *content edited for language modesty*
I count my reserve stitches, thinking maybe I accidentally put an extra one over there. Nope. 32 of those, just like there should be. I un-knit a row, hoping to see my mistake. Nothing. I examine the sock in a cranky-like manner under the light, looking for that telltale little ladder. Nothin'
I glared at it for a long time. I considered stuffing it into my knitting bag, but I knew I wouldn't be satisfied to leave it without a solution. Instead of making myself even more miserable by going backward until I uncovered the exact location of the error, I gave it the evil eye and added a stitch. So there! These socks are knit in super fine yarn anyway, you can barely even seen those bloody little stitches. No one will ever know. Except me, and it'll bug the crap out of me, but hey, it was just one of those weeks.
I was feeling tired and emotional yesterday, and I knew that I had Hank by myself for the evening, since Mike had a late class. I had an ambitious after-work agenda: grocery store, public library, fetch Hank, home. Make soothing dinner based on grocery store additions, watch new Thomas the Tank Engine movie procured from the public library with Hank, grab a warm shower, get Hank in jammies, read books with him, get him tucked in and sleeping, greet Mike, knit, bed. It all seemed very doable.
As I trucked away from campus in my little Honda, I gave my car a pat and told him how happy I was that he seemed to be staving off that new muffler that I can tell he's angling for. The car had been a tad noisier than usual, and in small sedans you need exhaust work every 2-3 years commonly. It's been about 3 since my last foray to Mufflerman, so I knew I was on borrowed time, but I buttered Civic up and told him how proud I was of him. Every pay period has been perilous here lately. We've just had a bunch of necessary expenses all hit at one time. Tuition, books, fee for a licensing exam Mike needs to take, taxes, school clothes for Henry, mortgage, etc. I just hoped to have a bit of a chance to recover.
I hop on the highway, and it happened. You know.
*happy putter* *POP* *BBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*
The whole highway turns to stare at you. You slouch down in your seat. You sigh. You may say a very bad word. You get huffy.
I'm so used to this with my car that it doesn't faze me anymore. I've had Civic for 10 years, and like I mentioned, new exhaust work every 2-3 years. I don't even pull over anymore. I just keep driving and pray for Mufflerman to miraculously move closer to my physical position. So, my new evening agenda now looks like this:
Henry. Mufflerman. Public library. Grocery store. Home.
I grab Hank from his after school program and we head to Mufflerman. 30 minutes and $250 later, we emerge with a quiet and happy car. *sighs*
By this time, someone was starving and cranky. And Hank was getting a bit restless too. We fetch Thomas and the groceries (including a box of super heroes popsicles, since he really took the Mufflerman visit better than I did), and head home. Hank bounces around the house while I make us the ultimate comfort dinner of grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. I grab my shower while Hank watches Thomas. Mike gets home a few minutes early and is all worried about the car expenses, since his car needed about $300 worth of work last week. It was necessary, certainly, but worrisome, and it takes its toll on both of our moods. This makes me even more emotional than before.
Mike gets Hank to sleep, and as I sulkily work my mom's socks (my very first pair!) I notice that I'm mysteriously missing a stitch. Now. I'm very used to dropped stitches. Because, well, I drop them all the time. And a dropped stitch in knitting is extremely telltale. You see this big gap and then a little ladder of loose yarn where the stitch is unraveling. I've learned how to pick them back up and fix them. On these socks, I'd just started the heel flap, which was probably a bad idea given how porky I was mixed with the fact that I've never knitted a sock before, and the heel is one of the most difficult parts. I had counted as I rearranged the stitches to begin the heel flap, and I had 32 for the flap, 32 in reserve, just like I was supposed to. I knit a row, purl a row, then go back and complete a row of alternating slipped stitches and knits, just like the directions say. Except...I end with a slip, and that just doesn't seem right. Sure enough, I go back and count and there are only 31 stitches there. *content edited for language modesty*
I count my reserve stitches, thinking maybe I accidentally put an extra one over there. Nope. 32 of those, just like there should be. I un-knit a row, hoping to see my mistake. Nothing. I examine the sock in a cranky-like manner under the light, looking for that telltale little ladder. Nothin'
I glared at it for a long time. I considered stuffing it into my knitting bag, but I knew I wouldn't be satisfied to leave it without a solution. Instead of making myself even more miserable by going backward until I uncovered the exact location of the error, I gave it the evil eye and added a stitch. So there! These socks are knit in super fine yarn anyway, you can barely even seen those bloody little stitches. No one will ever know. Except me, and it'll bug the crap out of me, but hey, it was just one of those weeks.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Trying to perk, school choices, and nightime belly dancing...
Yesterday was just one of those days wherein I simply wanted to go to bed so that I could wake up the next morning and start anew. They happen to everyone every once in a while and you just have to endure, kwim?
On my car... Mike is looking into a few other garages (friends of friends) and we're going to try and get another estimate or two. But honestly, I'm not optimistic that we'll be able to get the a/c fixed. Regardless, we really don't want to spend more than $300 on car a/c, and barring divine car intervention (does Jesus do auto repair?) I think that it'll just have to stay as is. I'm a little grumpy about it, but honestly, I just need to grow up. In the climate in which we live, it's not a big deal for any length of time. It'll be uncomfortable when I drive home from work on warm days, but I'll just have to offer it up. There are many worse things in life.
On the school thing...I did lots of thinking about this yesterday. And of course, research. I was encouraged to see that at least one local Catholic school charges the lower-priced parishoner rate for anyone that belongs to a parish in which there is no parochial school. That will be us. And the parishoner rates really weren't as bad as I feared. I know that there's also tuition assistance programs too. It made me feel better to have this information.
Overall though, Mike and I talked about it last night, and I think we're going to have to give the public school a go for the upcoming school year. If we don't like it, we can switch Hank for first grade. The main thing at issue is of course money. Mike will still be in school full-time next year, and on top of that, whereas he usually teaches 2 courses per semester as adjunct faculty, in the fall his schedule will only allow him to teach 1. We'll have less money coming in. And, as you all know because I talk about it all the time now :) I'd like to conceive. Major money concerns.
In addition, it's true that it's not fair to judge the school based on a single morning orientation. Every review that we've heard from parents that have or had children in the school have been glowing, including one yesterday from our neighbors with 2 girls enrolled. I think we need a real time experience to go on. Plus, we don't know that the environment would be any less rigid or less assessment-crazy at a given Catholic school. We'd have to get more information about both places before making a firm judgment. Hank's kindergarten year will be a good information-gathering time for us. We can go from there.
I'm still feeling a bit out of sorts about the whole thing, but I'm praying and trusting that somehow it's going to work out just fine. I cracked open my Catechism last night, and was reading the section on the education of children. I forgot to bring it with me so I can't quote the actual text, but the jist was that parents are the ultimate educators of our children. We are not morally obliged to make any specific choice about where to send our children for school - whether it be homeschool, Catholic school or public school. We can send them wherever we feel is best for our particular situation, but in the end, *we* are responsible for passing the faith on to them, and I intend to do that to the best of my ability regardless of whether Hank is in public or Catholic school. In many ways, I think I stay focused better with praying with Hank at home and teaching him spiritual things *because* I know that outside of attending Mass, this is the sole place he's learning about his faith. Should he stay in public school, I'm also looking forward to both of us becoming involved in our parish's CCD program. Hank would start attending in first grade, and I'm planning to volunteer as a teacher.
This is all off in the future somewhat, but it helps me to talk it out. That's why I love this blog so much :)
Ok, so enough stressful stuff. I've been belly dancing my little heart out lately and praying that my sheerish curtains are doing their job and not giving the whole neighborhood a free show. The reason for this is a major upcoming milestone for your Catholic Librarian: my first solo.
Last Friday at class, we were doing our usual thing when suddenly Claire announced something new: We'd be working on our improv skills, improv being dancing solo with no planned choreography. I thought this was a great way to challenge us and force us out of our comfort zones, but I have to say, I'm a bit anti-improv :) Given my personality, I like everything planned.to.a.tee. Nothing, not even an eyebrow arch or saucy smile will be left to chance.
So, we all took turns improving for a minute or so to a song, and as you can imagine, I was sweating overtime. I get nervous now about performing, but as long as I'm in the group I do just fine. Everybody looking at ME is not something I'd ever been able to enjoy. My classmates had done this exercise before, but because I'm still fairly new to the advanced class, this was my first time. I put it off as long as possible and then forced myself up. I made it, but it was pretty rough :) In the heat of the moment, I could only remember about 3 steps, so I kept repeating things and tripping over my own feet. Not a good look.
After class I was pondering where I'd like to go with my dancing. I really love it, and we have a hafla coming up to celebrate the opening of Claire's new studio. She's encouraging all of us to do solos. Lest I be pressed into this dreaded improv nightmare, I started planning a choreography posthaste. It took me several days just to pick a song. Finally, I settled on a drum solo, and I really love it. I've planned out about a minute so far, and I have to say, I like it. One thing I realized from the improv exercise is that you don't have to be constantly in frenetic motion when you're doing a solo. There is a place for slowing down, focusing on some hand or chest movements, even pausing in time to the music. As well, you don't have to reinvent the wheel and come up with "new and exciting!" all the time. String together some basic movements, some combinations from class, mix in some travel steps and some of those slower sequences for isolated movements, and 2 minutes later you've got yourself a cute solo.
I'm pretty terrified, but cautiously optimistic. Now I just need to secure a costume with the magic word attached (cheap!). We'll get there...
Happy Memorial Day!
On my car... Mike is looking into a few other garages (friends of friends) and we're going to try and get another estimate or two. But honestly, I'm not optimistic that we'll be able to get the a/c fixed. Regardless, we really don't want to spend more than $300 on car a/c, and barring divine car intervention (does Jesus do auto repair?) I think that it'll just have to stay as is. I'm a little grumpy about it, but honestly, I just need to grow up. In the climate in which we live, it's not a big deal for any length of time. It'll be uncomfortable when I drive home from work on warm days, but I'll just have to offer it up. There are many worse things in life.
On the school thing...I did lots of thinking about this yesterday. And of course, research. I was encouraged to see that at least one local Catholic school charges the lower-priced parishoner rate for anyone that belongs to a parish in which there is no parochial school. That will be us. And the parishoner rates really weren't as bad as I feared. I know that there's also tuition assistance programs too. It made me feel better to have this information.
Overall though, Mike and I talked about it last night, and I think we're going to have to give the public school a go for the upcoming school year. If we don't like it, we can switch Hank for first grade. The main thing at issue is of course money. Mike will still be in school full-time next year, and on top of that, whereas he usually teaches 2 courses per semester as adjunct faculty, in the fall his schedule will only allow him to teach 1. We'll have less money coming in. And, as you all know because I talk about it all the time now :) I'd like to conceive. Major money concerns.
In addition, it's true that it's not fair to judge the school based on a single morning orientation. Every review that we've heard from parents that have or had children in the school have been glowing, including one yesterday from our neighbors with 2 girls enrolled. I think we need a real time experience to go on. Plus, we don't know that the environment would be any less rigid or less assessment-crazy at a given Catholic school. We'd have to get more information about both places before making a firm judgment. Hank's kindergarten year will be a good information-gathering time for us. We can go from there.
I'm still feeling a bit out of sorts about the whole thing, but I'm praying and trusting that somehow it's going to work out just fine. I cracked open my Catechism last night, and was reading the section on the education of children. I forgot to bring it with me so I can't quote the actual text, but the jist was that parents are the ultimate educators of our children. We are not morally obliged to make any specific choice about where to send our children for school - whether it be homeschool, Catholic school or public school. We can send them wherever we feel is best for our particular situation, but in the end, *we* are responsible for passing the faith on to them, and I intend to do that to the best of my ability regardless of whether Hank is in public or Catholic school. In many ways, I think I stay focused better with praying with Hank at home and teaching him spiritual things *because* I know that outside of attending Mass, this is the sole place he's learning about his faith. Should he stay in public school, I'm also looking forward to both of us becoming involved in our parish's CCD program. Hank would start attending in first grade, and I'm planning to volunteer as a teacher.
This is all off in the future somewhat, but it helps me to talk it out. That's why I love this blog so much :)
Ok, so enough stressful stuff. I've been belly dancing my little heart out lately and praying that my sheerish curtains are doing their job and not giving the whole neighborhood a free show. The reason for this is a major upcoming milestone for your Catholic Librarian: my first solo.
Last Friday at class, we were doing our usual thing when suddenly Claire announced something new: We'd be working on our improv skills, improv being dancing solo with no planned choreography. I thought this was a great way to challenge us and force us out of our comfort zones, but I have to say, I'm a bit anti-improv :) Given my personality, I like everything planned.to.a.tee. Nothing, not even an eyebrow arch or saucy smile will be left to chance.
So, we all took turns improving for a minute or so to a song, and as you can imagine, I was sweating overtime. I get nervous now about performing, but as long as I'm in the group I do just fine. Everybody looking at ME is not something I'd ever been able to enjoy. My classmates had done this exercise before, but because I'm still fairly new to the advanced class, this was my first time. I put it off as long as possible and then forced myself up. I made it, but it was pretty rough :) In the heat of the moment, I could only remember about 3 steps, so I kept repeating things and tripping over my own feet. Not a good look.
After class I was pondering where I'd like to go with my dancing. I really love it, and we have a hafla coming up to celebrate the opening of Claire's new studio. She's encouraging all of us to do solos. Lest I be pressed into this dreaded improv nightmare, I started planning a choreography posthaste. It took me several days just to pick a song. Finally, I settled on a drum solo, and I really love it. I've planned out about a minute so far, and I have to say, I like it. One thing I realized from the improv exercise is that you don't have to be constantly in frenetic motion when you're doing a solo. There is a place for slowing down, focusing on some hand or chest movements, even pausing in time to the music. As well, you don't have to reinvent the wheel and come up with "new and exciting!" all the time. String together some basic movements, some combinations from class, mix in some travel steps and some of those slower sequences for isolated movements, and 2 minutes later you've got yourself a cute solo.
I'm pretty terrified, but cautiously optimistic. Now I just need to secure a costume with the magic word attached (cheap!). We'll get there...
Happy Memorial Day!
Thursday, May 27, 2010
A not so good morning...
I keep plotting my happy belly dancing post and getting waylaid by stressful occurrences. *sighs* In good news, my grandmother is doing well, although still in ICU. They wanted to keep an eye on her for an additional day since she was complaining of some discomfort and the doctor was adjusting her medication. But overall, she's doing great.
The furlough issue is still unresolved, but for the time being a temporary restraining order is in place, so that's good.
This morning, we had 2 major issues to contend with: the air conditioning in my car, and Hank's kindergarten orientation. We took the car in first thing, hoping that it would be a $200 or so fix. 'Twas not to be. The mechanic told us that the compressor needs to be replaced, and that would cost... are you ready? Wait for it... $760. I nearly fell over. Needless to say, we don't have that amount of money stocked away for a repair of a non-essential item. I am most unhappy about the situation. We're going to shop around at a few other places, but unless something truly unexpected happens, I'm going to be sweating a lot this summer.
Next, we walked to our local public elementary school for Hank's orientation. I was really looking forward to this, and at this point, I hadn't gotten the car news yet, so I was in good spirits. Unfortunately, I wasn't too impressed. I went to public city schools k-12; I did just fine, and that district has a lot of issues that our suburban district does not. Our elementary school comes highly recommended and people in the neighborhood rave about it. As a general rule, I'm all about keeping an open mind with regard to public schools.
It's just that...things have changed since I was in school. Everything now is about "state standards and regulations" with an unbelievable amount of emphasis on testing and other assessments. The environment is also so, so rigid and strict. God forbid you should want to walk your child into their classroom or enter the school while classes are in session. You have to be buzzed in, signed in, and receive special written permission to do just about anything. And don't even get me started on the birthday food thing. Children with food allergies in the classroom, *this* I understand. I certainly wouldn't send Hank in with something from which one or more children would be excluded due to allergies. I would accommodate that in a heartbeat. But the "wellness committee" chairwoman (I'm not making this up) telling us that they promote "healthy snacks" for treats and special days like raisins, fruit, and non-food items like bookmarks (!), and discourage sugary cupcakes and cookies just makes me kind of pissed off. These are 5 YEAR OLDS. Let them be kids.
Overall, the level of hot air, and quite frankly b.s., in the auditorium this morning left me feeling drained and unhappy. Is this what I want for Hank? Constant testing, locked doors, and birthday raisins? I don't know. And I feel trapped, because especially if we want to have another baby, putting Catholic school tuition into the budget until Mike goes back to work full-time just isn't happening. And maybe I should give the school more of a chance than a 2 hour orientation.
Mike assured me that after he's working full-time again next year, if we're unhappy with the school, we can switch Hank to Catholic school. At that point, he'd only have just finished kindergarten, so he'd be young enough that a switch shouldn't be traumatic. We'll see.
But I'm feeling decidedly down again. I'm trying my best not to let that fester. God always works things out, even if we can't see how right at the present moment. I tend to always want to be in constant motion, and trying to do things before I allow enough time for proper discernment and contemplation. Sometimes I just need to leave God more room and time to work, kwim? I'm trying to do that right now. Trying very hard, I promise :)
The furlough issue is still unresolved, but for the time being a temporary restraining order is in place, so that's good.
This morning, we had 2 major issues to contend with: the air conditioning in my car, and Hank's kindergarten orientation. We took the car in first thing, hoping that it would be a $200 or so fix. 'Twas not to be. The mechanic told us that the compressor needs to be replaced, and that would cost... are you ready? Wait for it... $760. I nearly fell over. Needless to say, we don't have that amount of money stocked away for a repair of a non-essential item. I am most unhappy about the situation. We're going to shop around at a few other places, but unless something truly unexpected happens, I'm going to be sweating a lot this summer.
Next, we walked to our local public elementary school for Hank's orientation. I was really looking forward to this, and at this point, I hadn't gotten the car news yet, so I was in good spirits. Unfortunately, I wasn't too impressed. I went to public city schools k-12; I did just fine, and that district has a lot of issues that our suburban district does not. Our elementary school comes highly recommended and people in the neighborhood rave about it. As a general rule, I'm all about keeping an open mind with regard to public schools.
It's just that...things have changed since I was in school. Everything now is about "state standards and regulations" with an unbelievable amount of emphasis on testing and other assessments. The environment is also so, so rigid and strict. God forbid you should want to walk your child into their classroom or enter the school while classes are in session. You have to be buzzed in, signed in, and receive special written permission to do just about anything. And don't even get me started on the birthday food thing. Children with food allergies in the classroom, *this* I understand. I certainly wouldn't send Hank in with something from which one or more children would be excluded due to allergies. I would accommodate that in a heartbeat. But the "wellness committee" chairwoman (I'm not making this up) telling us that they promote "healthy snacks" for treats and special days like raisins, fruit, and non-food items like bookmarks (!), and discourage sugary cupcakes and cookies just makes me kind of pissed off. These are 5 YEAR OLDS. Let them be kids.
Overall, the level of hot air, and quite frankly b.s., in the auditorium this morning left me feeling drained and unhappy. Is this what I want for Hank? Constant testing, locked doors, and birthday raisins? I don't know. And I feel trapped, because especially if we want to have another baby, putting Catholic school tuition into the budget until Mike goes back to work full-time just isn't happening. And maybe I should give the school more of a chance than a 2 hour orientation.
Mike assured me that after he's working full-time again next year, if we're unhappy with the school, we can switch Hank to Catholic school. At that point, he'd only have just finished kindergarten, so he'd be young enough that a switch shouldn't be traumatic. We'll see.
But I'm feeling decidedly down again. I'm trying my best not to let that fester. God always works things out, even if we can't see how right at the present moment. I tend to always want to be in constant motion, and trying to do things before I allow enough time for proper discernment and contemplation. Sometimes I just need to leave God more room and time to work, kwim? I'm trying to do that right now. Trying very hard, I promise :)
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Updates...
Thanks everyone for the prayers. My grandmother came out of surgery just fine and is recuperating nicely. I'm glad that the actual surgery is behind us now.
No word yet on the furloughs. I have a feeling that it's going to be a long time ahead yet of uncertainty. We'll persevere.
It's actually *hot* here today, which as you know, is not my favorite weather :) It's sticky, and in the mid 80's. I'm actually wearing a *dress*. This is fairly unprecedented territory for your Catholic Librarian. I don't think I've ever worn a dress to work before. I'm finding that for this weather, I really like it. Much, much cooler. This is from the collection of modest clothes that I blogged about earlier this spring. I have a couple new skirts of the same material that I'm liking as well. It's a Target brand. Maybe Mossismo? At any rate, very flowy and comfortable.
The reason I picked the dress this morning is because the air conditioner in my car appears to have developed an attitude problem. *sighs* I have a feeling that the mechanic bill won't be pleasant, so I'm resisting taking it until after we know more about the furloughs. I mean, air conditioning in my car isn't exactly essential to it's overall performance, so I feel like it's not something that I absolutely have to have. On the other hand, when it gets humid during the day, my car is miserable when I get in it to go home from work, and by the end of the journey my clothes are sticking to me, I'm soaking wet and pretty punchy. *unhappy face* I'm hoping the dress eases the commute later today. I say "commute" when it's actually about 10 minutes, so I'll live. Keeping the windows down helps. *whines* This is good for my soul, I'm certain. Anybody have anything I can offer this suffering up for? :)
No word yet on the furloughs. I have a feeling that it's going to be a long time ahead yet of uncertainty. We'll persevere.
It's actually *hot* here today, which as you know, is not my favorite weather :) It's sticky, and in the mid 80's. I'm actually wearing a *dress*. This is fairly unprecedented territory for your Catholic Librarian. I don't think I've ever worn a dress to work before. I'm finding that for this weather, I really like it. Much, much cooler. This is from the collection of modest clothes that I blogged about earlier this spring. I have a couple new skirts of the same material that I'm liking as well. It's a Target brand. Maybe Mossismo? At any rate, very flowy and comfortable.
The reason I picked the dress this morning is because the air conditioner in my car appears to have developed an attitude problem. *sighs* I have a feeling that the mechanic bill won't be pleasant, so I'm resisting taking it until after we know more about the furloughs. I mean, air conditioning in my car isn't exactly essential to it's overall performance, so I feel like it's not something that I absolutely have to have. On the other hand, when it gets humid during the day, my car is miserable when I get in it to go home from work, and by the end of the journey my clothes are sticking to me, I'm soaking wet and pretty punchy. *unhappy face* I'm hoping the dress eases the commute later today. I say "commute" when it's actually about 10 minutes, so I'll live. Keeping the windows down helps. *whines* This is good for my soul, I'm certain. Anybody have anything I can offer this suffering up for? :)
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