Stitch fix (how I think this will go down)

I do not shop for clothes with any regularity.
It's not something I enjoy doing.
I am fashion-challenged.

If I went through my wardrobe, I expect at least 30% of the items are things that people have given me, either as gifts or as hand-me-downs.

This is a photo of all the clothes in my closet. 

The ones to the left are hand-me-downs/gifts. 

The upside of this is that the items are free, which works well with my cheap-as-hell spending philosophy.
The downside is that I don't love some of the items, or I realize after wearing them a few times that they really don't look great on me.

I did purchase two tops recently, and I think they sum up my fashion sense:

From The Loft

From Hot Topic

My fashion sense is basically "the mullet" of clothes--some version of "party on the bottom; business on the top" or the reverse. 

I met a friend for lunch this week, and she had on a really cute outfit that looked great on her. She does Stitch Fix, so I thought I would try it. 

On Stitch Fix, they ask you to provide information on not only your size but your fashion likes and dislikes.

Mine went something like this:

I'm a bit sensory-challenged. I like things really comfortable and soft. I do not like Supima cotton--it feels too stiff and scratchy to me. I only want to buy clothes about once a year. I would like a nice pair of comfy work pants for subbing. I would like to try a pair of tighter ankle pants; the ones I have flare at the ankle (bootcut?). I do not like khaki pants or navy blue. I don't want earrings, necklaces, or shoes. I am 45-years-old and beginning to not like my arms, so I prefer something with sleeves. 

I don't know how clothing goes together. The thin tops, for example. Do you wear a tank under them? A t-shirt? A camisole? I really don't know. 

Stitch Fix has this spinning wheel of fashion--you give outfits a thumbs-up or thumbs-down. 

Suffice it to say, I was thumbs-downing A LOT. 

I have a feeling the "stylist" will email me something like this:

You are impossible. Go buy a potato sack. 

The lice learning experience

If you think when you're 45 years old, you won't need your mom anymore, you're wrong.
You will probably need her to check your head for lice on a Tuesday when your son has lice on a Monday.

If you think you have learned all there is to know when you're 45 years old, you would be wrong because on a Monday your son has lice.
And you've never experienced that before.
So you jump down a rabbit hole of online information and get very confused.
Should you pack your unwashable items in a sealed bag for 3 days or 30 days? Which is right?
Should you dry your pillows in high heat for 30 minutes or 45 minutes? Which is right?

You send your husband out to get RID, and you start what becomes a seemingly never-ending hair-combing extravaganza.
You put everything you own in garbage bags and seal them with packing tape.
You could build a fort in your dining room with all the bags.
But you don't because you're too busy combing hair and disinfecting the combs afterward.

You end up on the phone with your friend, who you know has experienced lice once, and then she tells you her family has experienced it 7 times.
And she got valuable information from a mutual friend who has a Ph.D. in public health.
And when she suggests you check in at the lice clinic, you do.

So by Friday, your heads are clear.
But you keep combing anyway because when you're 45 years old and you have anxiety, a little extra combing is what you need to avoid drinking all the wine in the city because you've now got a little PTSD from those approximately 96 hours of lice.

I said yes, I will yes

During my undergraduate years, I spent 10 weeks traveling through England, Ireland, and Wales. I have many good memories of this time, but the downside was it meant having to
read...
attempt to read...
suffer through James Joyce's Ulysses.

Now, some people consider this book miraculous and amazing.
I was not one of those people (and am not one of those people), although I never actually finished reading it so my opinion could be ignored solely for that reason.
There is only so much stream of consciousness and lack of punctuation I can handle.

I used to think that I'd finish it if I ever found out I had a terminal illness and was relegated to my bed for six months but decided that this was a shitty way to spend my final months.

Still, 20+ years later and despite my general disregard for the book,  I do remember the end (which I think I just eventually skipped to in a fit of utter confusion and desire to be DONE).

where I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I 
put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me 
under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my 
eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I 
put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes 
and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes. 

This is Molly Bloom's soliloquy, and there is something about it that has stayed with me over time.

It's something about that saying yes business.

In the context of the novel, it is about her relationship with Leopold Bloom, but I think it speaks to a desire in me, which is to say yes.

As an anxious person, my go-to response on the inside is to say "no."
No--I don't want change.
No--I don't want to get out of my comfort zone.
I also have a latent lazy streak.
(Like I'm mentally lazy, but my body just won't sit still.)

The older I get, the more I'm like, "meh."

And yet, that Molly Bloom stuff. That saying yes, I will, yes.

It's true that a person can say yes to too much.
I've been rather good about setting limits for the kids and our family about what we can and will do.
The kids have never been in season after season of activities without breaks.
I think my vacation/trip-addiction is partly a need to be "away from real life/relaxation."
(There is a difference between being active because you HAVE to in your real life and being active for FUN on a trip.)

But because of my odd-job professional life, I've been able to say "yes" to a lot of stuff without it getting too hairy, at least most of the time.

Sometimes, though, everything happens at once, but as I learned in undergrad years, my best semesters happened when I took 18 hours and worked part-time. I used my time more efficiently.
I'm pretty good at that in the short-run, and most of my jobs, in their way, are short-run.
I know I won't be doing any particular job forever and forever.
They are all "for a while."

There are occasions when a person needs to say no.
I said no as a teenager when friends were drinking and driving.
I say no to drama.
(I avoid people who never got out of middle school emotionally.)
I say no 99.9% of the time to television viewing.

But, most of the time, I say "yes."

"Hey, Kiddo"

I recently read a fantastic graphic novel by Jarret J. Krosoczka called Hey, Kiddo. It is intended for kids in grades 7-9, which is older than both my boys, but I'm encouraging them to read it anyway.
I'm also throwing it at the 15-year-old.

I'm encouraging them to read it even though it has language and mature content because the story it tells is so fantastic.
If I allowed the language and mature content to keep them from the book, they would miss such tremendous depth.

The novel is about Krosoczka, who was more or less "adopted" by his grandparents as a toddler because his mother was a heroin addict who went to jail for acting as an accessory to murder. I listened to an interview of Krosoczka by Terry Gross, and he summed up his grandmother with the story of what she said to him when, as a third grader, he told her a kid was bothering him.

She told him to tell the kid, "Go shit in your hat."

Not everything resolves perfectly at the end, and Krosoczka came from a middle-class background, so he wasn't dealing with other hindrances that affect so many other kids whose parents are addicted.
What I liked about this book is that it offers hope.
One or two or numerous bad things don't have to mean a life is written off as all bad.

I recently saw something floating around on social media about talking to your kids about certain topics, and I think reading is similar.

If I let my kids read a book about heroin addiction, I don't think it is going to make them become heroin addicts. It might, however, make them see how devastating addiction can be. It may make them decide not to experiment with drugs.




I've talked to my kids about sex, and those talks have not been comfortable for me.
They've been skin-crawling uncomfortable for me, which I say as I shake off the willies as I type this.
But my hope is that being open, even if it made me uncomfortable, will help my kids to know that they can come to me about ANYTHING.
I won't yell.
I will listen.
I will guide them.

Someone cuss on the internet?
Let's talk about it.
See porn?
Let's talk about it.
Violence?
Let's talk about it.

If anyone is going to talk to my kids about these things, I think the best person is me.

My semi-addiction

I know that at some point, probably sooner than later, I'm going to have to forego adventures.

We've got two more boys to get into braces, a girl that will be driving, and a furnace that is coming up on 20 years of existence.
One car that is at 185,000 miles, and another that is 18 years old.
We will soon have to spend money on boring, adult(ish) things.

So, I'm seizing the day by taking lots of trips.
We just returned from spring break to Atlanta, and I've already booked a short trip in the fall.

Now, I tell myself that these trips are ok, and I guess they are since we're not going into debt to do them, and we're not foregoing things like food and medicine in order to do them.

These trips make those long-ass days of substitute teaching a little more worth it.

Of course, I worry about my obsessiveness.
That feeling of "needing" to get something planned.
Like I can't settle down until I've got something booked.
That isn't very healthy.

On the flip side, I've obsessed about having tonsilar cancer...when I didn't have tonsilar cancer.
And I've obsessed about people dying...when people weren't dying.
And I've obsessed about the end of the world...when the end of the world isn't happening.
And I've obsessed about food....when I should just eat a healthy, balanced diet.
And I've obsessed about exercise....when I should just do 30 minutes a day and forget about it.

I'm really, really, REALLY quite good at obsessing.
That's my mo.

And considering all the things I've obsessed over...these little adventures are the least damaging.
At least for now.

The sub job that has made me doubt my abilities

Here's the problem with people telling you you're good at something--you start to believe them.
And then, perhaps at some point, you're thrown into a situation that makes you doubt that you know what you're doing.
You doubt that you know anything at all.

I was warned about this sub job, but I took it anyway.
Because I need money to recoup the car repair account.
Because I believe that I'm an effective teacher.
Because I know that I try my darndest to be consistent and disciplined as well as fair and forgiving.
Because, if nothing else, I show up when I say I'll show up, and a lot of subs don't even do that.

I subbed four days this week and feel like I've aged 400 years.
The worst part of it is that with my OCD and my tendency to be self-reflective, I am internally reliving every day.
What did I do wrong?
What could I do better?
What could I do to prevent me from having to call the office repeatedly for backup with two particular classes?

Rationally, I know that subbing is not the same as being with kids full-time.
I'm at a disadvantage from the get-go.
I'm not the "real" teacher.
I know that I can do everything I'm supposed to do, but if other things beyond my control are not in place, I'm at the mercy of the situation.

Rationally, I know all these things.

Rationally, I know that a couple kids, who bucked me hard on Monday, refused to follow my instructions, and rolled their eyes so hard at me I thought they'd stick there forever, by Thursday, were sitting up front near me and attempting to do their work, even if they don't complete their work. Even if they play around.
That is progress, and progress for some students is glacier-moving slow.

I've talked vented to a handful of teachers who say they have struggled just as much with these students. Who tell me it's not me.
And rationally, I believe them.

But irrationally, I wonder if maybe I don't actually know what I thought I knew.

Podcasting for idiots

My friend and I are working on a podcast.
Who knew it was so much, like, work.
You can't just wing this sh*t.

At first, there was much watching and rewatching and re-REWATCHING of YouTube videos on how to use GarageBand.
(These young'uns go so fast on the technology and whatnot.)

We've been figuring out music and logos and openers.

It has been really fun.

The best part is that she and I are talking about books and book clubs and reading.

We're going to have a Facebook page so that we can ask questions and use comments as springboards for discussions.

It is a nice reminder that even old(ish) dogs can learn new tricks.

We've learned that even though quality podcasting sounds non-rehearsed, you really have to do some practice and preparing to make it sound that way.

We've dragged a friend into the closet with us. (Yes, we are literally in my friend's closet recording, which is kind of our schtick. Or mine, anyway).

At first, we hoped to have our first one out by mid-April, but we're now thinking June because we need help in the sound editing department. When we contacted and met with a podcaster before jumping into this, he said it took him about 6 months to get up and running, and so June sounds about right.

I really feel like this is not only fun but a good fit for my teaching/blogging/freelancing life of doing interesting stuff.