threads

For the Love of Snail Mail

2010-11-17T06:58:00.000-08:00

Recently I started a new hobby with the help of PostCrossing. I send a post card out into the world and receive one back in return from some other location. I dropped my first in the post today - on its way to Moscow, Russia.

Current Reads

2010-11-16T04:18:00.000-08:00

Skinny Bitch: I greatly enjoy the no-nonsense approach of the authors, Rory Freedman and Kim Barnouin - they definitely have the "tough love" thing down. And, at times they are quite funny with their not-so-lady-like language, like when they inform the reader that yes, "You need to exercise, you lazy shit." (Yes, I do). I also appreciated their information about the American meat industry, the marketing of gross food that has no nutritional value and is chemically fortified. It has given me reason to pause and think about what I am putting into my body. As for not drinking soda, liquid satin they claim, done. Coffee, however? I'll think about it as soon as I am not up at four am with a toddler, trudging through a day of eleventh graders and ending it all with a sea of tattle-telling cheerleaders.

Luxe - a guilty pleasure. If you are a fan of Gossip Girl, then this nineteenth century series of scandal and glamor will be right up your alley.

Water for Elephants - Just beginning it, but have heard good things.

Re-arranging

2010-11-15T10:33:00.001-08:00

My Heart and Other Things...

I have a monster of chores stacked against me right now.

We decided to flip our living rooms;

make the former television room a sitting area

and the previous study a man-cave.

My husband now has the room of his dreams -

big screen,

oversize sofa,

vinyl collection and

guitars all around him.

I now have a piano room,

a place that we are not yet sure how to use,

but think we need to entertain and at least let people sit and look at how pretty it is.

This weekend I had another blow-out with my mom. I was on my way to visit her when an unfortunate verbal exchange took place and was overheard by my to-be-sister-in-law.

Long story short: I wanted my mom's attention,

was calling her on my way to visit her and she was blowing me off on the phone because she was with my aforementioned sister,

I yelled, (in the mature twenty-something manner that I do),

"I am your daughter, not her!"

Jenny heard.

She cried.

I cried.

Mom cried.

Everyone freaked out and it was this huge ordeal.

I went on to visit,

but just wanted to go home.

I have pent-up anger and resentment towards my mom about some past issues.

My comment really had nothing to do with sister-in-law-to-be;

it had everything to do with me.

I called my aunt and tried to get her sympathy. She told me that I should never say anything that I do not want other people to hear. She did not give me the answer and the "oh, it is okay" that I wanted.

All goodness is restored, but it was a bitch of a day, that Saturday.

I've got to move the jealousy out,

re-arrange my heart,

forgive my mom for our beef,

not let innocent people be crushed along the way.

Forgive me, Jenny?

I hope so.

Forgive you mom?

I hope soon.

Love you both.

Love, Sarah

UNDER CONSTRUCTION

2010-11-12T10:40:00.001-08:00

Through the weekend.
Be back on Monday.
Have a happy Saturday and Sunday.

Walking into Friday

2010-11-12T09:25:00.000-08:00

While I Cook

2010-11-12T05:05:00.000-08:00

Baby begs for me to hold her,

chicken screams,

microwave beeps,

garage door opens,

husband is home.

If tired did not start with T

2010-11-11T05:07:00.000-08:00

It would start with some other letter. It would be a different word, but there would still be the need for the meaning of the word, even if that very word did not exist. Tired.

It is November tenth. Three of my surrounding neighbors have their homes decked in Christmas lights. Oh suburbia, how I love you, how I hate you, all at the same time. We dropped the ball by only having three baby pumpkins in our yard, I know. We will try our best to live up to your expectations for the winter season. Would a Nativity lawn scene suffice? If we just outline the front of our house with lights, and save the high scary roof pitches, we hope you will not mind.

Tonight when I walked my baby down the street and to the park nearby, she ran immediately to the tire swing. She would hardly do play with any other big toy tonight. When she tired of sitting on it she said, "underneath" and went through the middle and out from below. Underneath.

What's the word on the street? No, not underneath, tired.

I am sitting in the guest room while Matt gets Lucia ready for bed. I take off and hide while he performs bath duty, book duty and has a possible showing of Elmo. If I put her down, she throws a fit and cries "mama, mama, mama!" If he puts her down, she quietly drifts off to sleep. She has my number; so she knows I am a sucker.

But what she has yet to learn about her mama...obsessed with clothes, Sweden, Czech, France, Grammar Girl and all things old and gold.

Happy almost Friday to you.

And me.

today

2010-11-10T05:00:00.000-08:00

there are times that words seem so easy and just roll off my fingers onto the screen.
other days i am tongue-tied and feel there is no voice,
like i am a girl with tape slapped across her mouth.

i told myself i was going to use this blog as a tool;
a tool to get stuff out and to celebrate what makes me happy,
etcetera,
etcetera,
etcetera.
so far, not so good, but perhaps i will get there eventually.

for now -- for today though -- i am just a girl
with duct tape on my lips.

Today I needed to read this:

2010-11-09T12:09:00.000-08:00

Thank you to my source, Dressed Up Like a Lady

Somewhere in-between...

2010-11-08T15:21:00.000-08:00

...a good day and a bad day.

Monday has too much power over me.

Could it be that I had too much sleep because of the time change?
Could it be that those students were freaking energized and loud?
Could it be that my tights were too much?

My mom did call at seven am just to say I looked pretty yesterday.
My husband did send me a love-text during first period.
My cheer girls did give me an edible bouquet.

Somewhere in-between a good day and a bad.
More good than bad.
Just a Monday, after all.

Love, me and my tights

Sunday Shorts

2010-11-07T15:04:00.001-08:00

And it is true, I would have been a hideous model.

Standing for the camera is awkward,
but not as awkward as cutting my head off in this photo.

Top: F21

Shorts: Charlotte Russe

Tights: Hue

Wedges: Thrift

New Project: Threads

2010-11-07T07:31:00.001-08:00

This project is has been being produced in my mind for quite some time now. It is not until now that I have taken the leap.

Previously, I have frequently posted on my mommy blog, but have realized that a piece of myself is missing there. It is all about my daughter, and while I love it, I do not like to include any of my thoughts-too-personal because much of my family reads it. Truly, it is missing the brutal honesty of everyday; it is sugar-coated and happy.

It is not to say that I am not happy or that I do not love sugar-coated-baby-goodness, but a girl has got to get some stuff out from time to time! I need an outlet for my own self, my own creativity, without it being mommy centered.  I need a place to talk, even if nobody cares to listen. I am needing something more; I use writing as an outlet to heal, to vent, to celebrate myself and capture my creativity without worry of who may or may not be watching.

Here, at my little place of composition,  I fully intend to reflect upon my own current stages in life, try to resolve some past conflicts that are truly eating me, get to the bottom of my body image issues, capture my sartorial style because my-oh-my I love clothes, share memories, passions and collections. My outlet. My place. My personal threads.

Thanks for coming along for the ride.

Peace and love.

Fall Fashion Take One

2010-11-05T15:25:00.000-07:00

Scarf: Thrifted and colorful.

Gray top: GAP from my mom.

Cardigan: Charlotte Russe - love her sale rack.

Skinny Cargos: Old Navy, not a fan of the fit.

Gray Socks, apparently my new must with wedges: Old Navy.

Red Dancing Shoes: Thrifted.

Braids: Consequence of Wet Hair at 7.30am.

Quote of the Day:

"How is it possible that you completely don't match, 
but still look totally fly?" 
Asked a lovely student.

Wee Small Hours

2010-11-05T04:10:00.000-07:00

I like to wake up earlier than everyone in the house.

I tip-toe around like a kitty cat on silent paws

and sip coffee the way I remember my great-grandmother sipping her's -

but she drank from fine bone china and rested her cup on a saucer in-between sips.
She read the paper at the kitchen table.
I sit on the couch with a computer on my lap,
coffee mug at my side.

Right now the only noise I hear is the faint hum of the refrigerator

and the jingling of the dog's collar as she scratches her ear.
The fridge noise actually is not that soft and is rather annoying now that I think of it.
Pretty sure that bad boy is on its last leg.

I have about thirty minutes left before I must get ready for work.
I do not want to go today - not a bone in my body wishes to walk through the doors
and smell that school smell and hear those school noises and ask kids to be quiet.

Some days are better than others and some days are plain hard.
I think the pom girls drain me the most with their needs, their bickering, their everything.
Next year I refuse to let an outside obligation rule my life - I will not sponsor an activity.

I wonder if today will be a day that I beat my body up and hate it,
or if I will feel wonderful and slim.
I cannot tell yet and I am not sure what my trigger will be if any.
I do know that my fixation on my appearance cannot be right,
it must be too much and pushing obsessive.

I do not want to write about it, but something keeps telling me that I must
and that it might be the only way to heal and move forward.

I know that I am pretty.
I love my hair.
I love my face.
I even like my ears.
I love my small chest; it makes me feel pretty.
Did I just hit the nail on the head - small makes me feel beautiful?

Why for the life of me can I not move past my body?
I am smaller now than I have been for years.
I have worked hard to get here.
I do not want to obsess every day.
It is tiresome.
Bothersome.

I have to teach my daughter to have a good body image,
but how can I do that if my own is tarnished?
Where did this come from and how did it start?

You would not know this about me if I did not express it.
I look perfectly put together most days.
I take good care of myself.
I love clothes and fashion.
I exude confidence,
but deep down I am a tiny little school girl fighting the crowd.

Swooning: Tights & Socks Oh MY!

2010-11-03T15:09:00.000-07:00

Sources: J. Crew & Anthropologie

2010-05-06T08:06:00.000-07:00

Sure seems like the bad days are much more frequent than the good lately.

I know it is spring and that teachers get burnt out and want to die.

I know I am good at what I do.

I do know that crying in the principal's office is nothing I ever did when I was in school,

but I guess there is a first time for everything.

I just don't know that I can do it forever.

Right now I do not know if I can even do it tomorrow.

fuck: not the word you want to hear at work

2010-04-05T16:51:00.000-07:00

today i made my student teacher cry
then i had to have a meeting with a colleague that i did not want to have
later a student lost his marbles
yelling at me - something to the tune of
you mother fucker,
i hate this fucking class,
you are such a dumb ass
because that is the kind of abuse that i deserve
because someone did not teach him better
because he wanted to see how i would react in front of the class
because things were not going bad enough
then a student that has been kicked out of school
came to my classroom door
opened it
came right in and asked his friend
from accross the room
for his locker combination
he did not leave when i asked
he did not get in trouble for being in our building
these are the days that i do not feel like i can keep teaching
no consequences
no voice for myself
two ice creams later
i want to quit my job

Operation Nice: FAIL

2010-02-21T08:08:00.000-08:00

Below is a rather honest post. I almost hate to push publish, but I am going to be brave and do it.

***

A few years ago, when I started teaching, I came up with a rule for myself: always be nice; even when a student is annoying as hell, be nice; even when a student is rude, be nice in return - just kill her with kindness; even when the student is not particularly fun to be around, be nice. This rule has worked rather well for me, at least it has made me consider my actions towards others and try to react differently in heated or awkward situations.

Sometimes, however, the rule is hard to follow. I have broken it a few times; no lie. Each time that I have broken it, it has come back to taunt me. One circumstance happened recently and has been hard for me to shake, an incident with a young man whose name I will fail to mention. In fact, to regard his privacy in high-esteem, let's just call him a her - her being a girl named Rachel.

Everyday Rachel asked me a lot of questions. Sometimes I thought the questions were annoying and warranted eye-rolling, maybe just a little attitude. I forgot my own rule that "no question is a dumb question." Some days I would humor her and answer her questions, but I would do so with short, direct answers. Other days I would just stare at her blankly and tell her to ask someone else. Rachel caught on to my annoyance. She found my buttons; I showed them. It became a game.

"Okay," Rachel seemed to think, "if my questions annoy her and she likes to make a mockery of them in front of the class, then I will show her annoying."

And annoying she was.

And the banter began.

Everyday Rachel would set out to be more and more annoying. My gig was up, my button pushed, my annoyance level "red."

This went on for months, until one day Rachel did not show up for school. Relief? To say the least. Class was quiet, I had no one raising their hand an arguing with me, asking pointless questions.

But Rachel did not show up the next day, or the next. A part of me began to miss Rachel - her noise, her inquisitiveness.

One day, a student who shall also remain anonymous said,

"Hey, where is that girl you hate? She has not been here for a while."

Immediately and defensively, I gasped as I crossly responded,

"I like Rachel, how dare you say that!"

My card had been shown. I knew it, everyone else knew it. Everyone knew that Rachel often pushed my buttons and they took it as me not liking her. To be honest, I did not even know if I liked Rachel because I did not give Rachel a chance. If I could have gotten past the questions, I could have formed a relationship with this student and completely diffused what came to be a somewhat volatile and unfortunate relationship.

That very moment was horrible for me. I hated that they thought I hated. Hate is an ugly thing. In that moment, I truly considered how I had been treating Rachel. Was it with the same respect in which I hope my daughter's teacher will someday treat her? We all know that answer is no.

The moment only lingered and got worse as Jemil raised his hand to inform all of us that Rachel's father had unexpectedly passed away.

I realize that Rachel's father passing away was not my fault; I am not going so far as to blame myself for her misfortune.I'm not crazy. Life happens. Horrible, sad things happen, even to students that I feel are too young to face tragedy. I will admit that I do, however, feel regret. My heart immediately washed with sorrow - sorrow for her loss, sorrow for the opportunity that I had and did not take with Rachel. I could have turned our relationship into a positive one, when instead, I encouraged negativity.

In that moment, I wished that I had been nicer to Rachel. I wish that maybe I would have been one of the teacher's that she could have come to and shared her grief. I wish that I could have even felt comfortable sending a card. Right, I know, I could have still sent a card, but to Rachel, in her time of grief, would she really want to hear from the teacher that she thought hated her? I would not want to hear from me, if I were her.

I am playing the nice game from now on - the suck it up and be nice game. Because it is true, not only do we not know what is going on in others' lives, but we do not know what is coming around the corner, either.

Name Tattoos

2010-02-08T08:10:00.000-08:00

I do not play favorites;

really, that is not how I roll.

Though, I must admit, there are always some students

that stay with me more than others.

This list will mean nothing to you,

it will only be what it is - a list of names.

To me, these names are stories;

each one taught me something about life,

made me think twice,

made me want to be a better mother,

or even just made me love a little more.

Ailee

Ginger

Joshua

LeTrey

Adrian

Kiara

Mitchell

Shelby

Marissa

Sinead

Tilly

Tawana

Taeren

Already, just three weeks into a new semester,

and again, names are tattooing themselves into my mind.

Interiors: I swoon

2010-01-28T08:33:00.000-08:00

I have been

surfing about the internet

in this lousy weather.

Baby naps.

Husband naps.

Sleet tippy-taps upon my roof.

Here are some interior photos

that I have enjoyed finding today:

1) I especially love the white dining room with the grand chandelier a la Bliss.

2) Oh My Dog Eared Pages, I love the color in the first Bloomingdale's photo - it is amazing!

3) Lofty Love brought to you by Design is Mine.

4) More White at Aesthetic Outburst.

What design websites make you happy?

Where do you find inspiration?

Despite the poor weather conditions,

I must admit,

it not so bad being stuck in my

{sweet and lovely}

home with my two favorite people.

2010-01-04T08:44:00.000-08:00

I am currently salivating over skinny jeans,

thus making this pair my new favorite.

They are begging to be worn with some

handmade grown-up leg warmers from etsy:

perhaps these,

or even these.

And while we're talking etsy -

(how I do love thee) -

I'm thought nothing but CUTENESS

when I discovered

this hootie hat that can be customized for

either a little girl or boy.
And while we're being cozy,

and bundling up in cute owl hats,

perhaps mom too needs
something clever to adorn her head:

And on to the hands,

I do wish these little wrist warmers

could be made in baby's size

because we all know how much she loves birdies.

Perhaps I will send Miss Mosey a special request.