Finding Joy in Snarkville

Last night I did something I’ve never done before — I taught a class.  Not just any class mind you, I taught a class that the idea I came up with on my own, I wrote the plan, and I built the amazing PowerPoint that ran said class.

And in a word it was the best thing I’ve done in a long time.  Now, if you know me at all you know that I’ve never been scared to stand up in front of any group and speak.  Small groups scare me to no end — I’m have limited skills at small talk, I have an insane habit of saying stupid, random things that I then try to explain (digging hole deeper) and then spend the rest of the day trying to figure out what brought me to the point where I said something so stupid.

A long time ago, in some flash of introspection, I realized that speaking to larger groups or even acting on stage was far less scary than meeting people in a small group where you were expected to have spontaneous conversation with them.  I’m a scripted girl.  I realized that I exposed far less of myself in when I’m in front of many people than in a small group setting.  It helps that I adore being the center of attention, that I feed off the eyes on me and literally am energized by commanding the attention of the room.

So, when I got the call that my class would be three people, I panicked. This was TOO small.  I need a lecture hall when my voice can be loud and there would be no questions to interupt me.  Then it slowly dawned on me that not only would I be expected to speak publicly, but I’d be expected to TEACH them something.  Something I knew and they didn’t and I had no idea their skill set nor the their abilities.  I began to hyperventilate.  Deep Breaths.

I built the slides I needed, I prepped the outline, I practiced in my car when I was alone.  I walked Prince through the slides and asked for advice.  And then the next fear hit me, I had to TEACH for TWO whole hours — and I had 30 minutes of material max.  More DEEP breathes.  More talking to myself.  More prayers that I would not bore, forget everything, and would live through this.

The appointed hour came.  I walked in and set-up.  My three students arrived and I began.  For 45 minutes, I presented my lecture.  We stopped to answer questions and I never lost my stride, I was bonding and doing it and enjoying it.  Then my lecture ended and it was time to start up the computers and walk people through the how to do what I just did.  This is the part that scared me most — I am GOOD at what I was teaching, but I take short cuts (learned over time), I move quickly and I do things that can’t be seen when I’m projected my screen on the wall.  I reminded myself to slow down and be willing to repeat and repeat.  And I began.

And I learned one thing — it was ok that I instantly didn’t know an answer because we could find it together and somehow that was better.  It was ok to slow down and show people how to something a few times until it clicked.  It was ok to spend a little time playing around and making something awful to prove a point.

But then at the end, my hardest student, the one who wanted to know the most; to move from unsure to confident, looked up and said something magical.  “This makes me want to go home and just play with this more and more.”  I did it.  I somehow, without trying, swept away the fear of the unknown, fear of ‘doing it wrong’, fear of not making it perfect and gave her the chance to play.  We learn these programs only by playing with them, we learn because we think “there has to be a way to do ____” and we look to find it, we learn when we can get to the point just beyond being afraid of it.  And that was a more than my lesson could have ever hoped to impart and yet somehow that was the take-away.

I taught a class on how to use the power in PowerPoint for good presentations and not bad ones, and I ended up encouraging productive learning through playing with the tools/toys within the program.  I taught three people to change the outlook on the program and they taught me that I can teach something period.

I am still high on the experience last night, I wrote a note to the director thanking her and telling her I want to do more.  I thanked Prince for pushing me to even give it a try. It was more than I expected it to be.

I know many of you are a twitter to know what I made in so many hours of cooking.  Well, let’s start with last night we had oven fried chicken and roasted veggies.  Yes, I’m a little proud of myself.

Now, you have to know that problems in the kitchen aren’t a lack of real skills.  I can whip up a beef wellington rather impressively.  The dishes I cook, I’m rather good at; and when inspired (like cooking for company or a party) I try out new things with rather few bombs.  That said, my problem is a one of desire — more like the daily grind.  So, I tend to rely on the path of least resistance for dinner — thus shocking someone in my knitting group when I said, “I don’t buy fresh vegetables, I’d have no idea what to do with them.”  That’s only half true — I *KNOW* what to do with them, I just could bring myself to do it everyday of the week.  I have other things I desire more, like becoming one with my recliner and knitting.

Back to what did I cook.  It seems that the key to this plan is to make at least TWO dinners worth of each meal.  Thus I cooked 5 meals and have 10 dinners.  (We don’t need to cook for the family 2 nights per week, so this is how it works out to 2 weeks of food.)  Now there’s a school of thought of everytime you cook, you double the recipe and freeze the other one — which sounds good, but seems to take awhile to build up to the no cooking part.  I know that nothing will last in the freezer forever (3 months seems to be the limit), so I like the idea of challenging ourselves to eat through one cooking session before beginning the next.  Finally, I read a suggestion of not making too many servings of an untried dish — good idea, except I’m new and all the dishes are untried.  Thus, I made myself a promise, every new dish I make, I shall only make two.  If it horrible and no one will eat it, it doesn’t cost us that much to just throw out the second one (or find it a loving home amoungst my friends in less picky households).  If we love it, then we already have another waiting.

So on to what I made:

1. Chicken Cacciatore:  This is a wild card to me.  A tomato based baked chicken dish.  It could be good, but I fear it may be “Meh” and never to be made again.  I will note that the dish size recommended in the recipe was HALF the size it should have been.
2. Coq au Vin: Yup, chicken in wine.  I’ve made this (not this recipe) before and enjoyed my purple chicken.  This smelled amazing coming out of the oven and I can’t wait to eat it.  I do worry a touch over the fact it is a different shade of chicken — but I’m sure the flavor will be wonderful.
3. Chicken Burritos: The recipe says I could make 10, I made 12.  Not sure how that worked, but I kept going until I was out of chicken.  I’m no better at folding a burrito now than I was in the beginning, but it is on taste not pretty right?  Now this recipe is cool because all the burritos are indivdually wrapped allowing for making just a couple if needed.
4. Chicken-Vegetable Soup:  Yes, I made soup.  Now this is the first time I’ve made soup and I always thought it would be harder than it was.  In looking at the outcome, I’ve got to say this is more like chicken stew in that it is thick and rich and full of STUFF and less liquid.  I’m ok with that — it is getting cooler here, and I see soup with crusty bread in our future.
5. Chicken Potpie:  Now this is the only recipe that has prep the day of serving, but it isn’t much prep and the filling was SO yummy going together (and easy — seriously easy)
6. Finally there was the oven fried chicken for dinner last night.  The verdict on dinner one was “YUMMY”  It was good and I think having a success in the first meal looks good for this plan.

We are already starting to talk about the next time and what to make.  I need to add a few things along the way, but I’m really excited about it — especially now that I can move my arms again.

Yes, I’m looking for someone to blame.  It appears that since turning 35 in September, I’m falling apart.

Yesterday, I am pretty sure I broke toe.  Not my big toe, but the one next to it.  And you want to know what highly difficult move I was doing when I think I broke my toe?

WALKING.  Yup, I stumbled when I was walking (over some random cords on the floor) and I tripped a little.

Poise and grace I tell you.  Just full of Poise and Grace.

(Now off to decide if I really need to *DO* anything about my probably broken toe.)

I’m about to admit something that is highly embarrassing.  I’ve not only seen “You Got Mail,” I’ve quoted it.  Yes, I know — it was not a celluloid masterpiece…ok, it was just rather bad.  But there was a line that I was recently thinking about.  Meg Ryan was looking for advice and Tom Hanks quoted “The Godfather.”  The quote doesn’t matter, but what does is that Hanks says, “I think the answers to most questions can be found in ‘The Godfather’.”  He rattles off a few quotes and hilarity ensues.

Well, recently, I’ve been reading a bit more of C.S. Lewis.  (I know this will shock you, but I’d never read the Narnia Series and I’m trying to read it with Duke.)  In my reading I’ve been glancing a few other of his books.  Every so often I make it farther into Mere Christianity.  I’m finding I’m loving various quotes of C.S. Lewis and needless to say I was utterly shocked that even he had something to say about my current problem with turning 35, I mean 34 and 3/2.

“Thirty was so strange for me. I’ve really had to come to terms with the fact that I am now a walking and talking adult.“

Wow, how true is that.  Maybe my biggest problem is that I’m forced with coming to terms that I’m an adult.  How truly funny.  We spend our first 18 years trying so hard to be an adult — to cease to be under the control and direction of our parents; to stand on our own two feet; to prove the metal we are made of.  Then we spend the next years ‘playing’ at adulthood.  Then we wake up one morning and realize, we aren’t able to play any more and then spend many, many years begging for someone to take all this horrible responsibility away from us.

I guess it is hitting me that I no longer can claim, “oh, I’m just young.” or worse, “If this fails I can always start over.”  Instead, I get to say, “that’s a young man’s game.”  I’m getting older and it has weight to it. And what a pain in the butt.

So, while I contemplate my naval and try to pull myself out of the funk that is the approaching 35.  I thought You’d enjoy some other answers to life’s problems, compliments of Mr. Lewis.

On Love: “This is one of the miracles of love: It gives a power of seeing through its own enchantments and yet not being disenchanted.“

On Starting Over: “We all want progress, but if you’re on the wrong road, progress means doing an about-turn and walking back to the right road; in that case, the man who turns back soonest is the most progressive.“

On Death: “Has this world been so kind to you that you should leave with regret? There are better things ahead than any we leave behind.”

On Life Enrichment: “Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art… It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival.“

On Friendship: “Eros will have naked bodies; Friendship naked personalities.“  (think about this one, folks — take this one to heart and you will have more love with your friends and more friendship in your love.  But this is a HUGE risk — but I think I’ve only recently realized that real friendship is more dangerous than love.)

On Writing/Speaking: “Don’t use words too big for the subject. Don’t say “infinitely” when you mean “very”; otherwise you’ll have no word left when you want to talk about something really infinite.“

On Life being fair: “The real problem is not why some pious, humble, believing people suffer, but why some do not.“

Finally, on faith: “A man can no more diminish God’s glory by refusing to worship Him than a lunatic can put out the sun by scribbling the word, ‘darkness’ on the walls of his cell.” “I gave in, and admitted that God was God.“

…scream “T-I-M-B-E-R”

Oh yes, I have just cut down my very first tree. And I’m bouncing with glee. No seriously.

First, I have to say that I’ve FINALLY done something I’ve wanted to do since we moved into Frankenhouse — I climbed the hill behind my house. And the worst thing about it is that it wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. Oh, sure it is greater than a 45 degree angle and the first 10 feet or so has an apple tree that grows low near the ground (not hard when the ground is rising to meet you). But armed with clippers in my back pocket, gloves on my hands (did I mention the blackberry bushes? oh, yes and there’s a holly bush behind the apple tree too — what the heck did the owners like about plants with ‘pokies*’ on them?), and a hacksaw — I climbed the hill.

Now at this point you are asking yourself, “Queen, what was so important that you had to climb a hill, wield a saw, and cut down much of a tree all by yourself? Couldn’t Prince do it? Couldn’t you have ignored it?” In reverse order:

1. We’ve ignored it for too long and it was no longer ignorable.

2. Prince was not home and didn’t really want to do it and he might have mentioned that it would take me days and I’d really need a chainsaw and the thought of wielding a chain saw on even ground gives me the hives, so the thought of carrying it up there, turning it on, and cutting something down just about made me faint.

3. I need my TV.

So, yes, I climbed the hill and cut down a tree in the name of couch potatohood. You see, we have DirectTV. We have a dish ill placed (hello, this is Frankenhouse where nothing is in the best place for it, but is instead the lazy place) at the low corner of our roof. We also have this mountain full of trees in the back yard. Come to find out, trees GROW. This is especially true of Eucalyptus trees, who not only grow too tall have a tendency to just fall over. We have two stumps in the back that have sprouted trees again (I have a feeling this house has had a problem with these trees before). Well, the smaller crop seems to be problem (though as of this typing I’m too scared to turn the TV on to check lest I’ve just cut down the wrong set AND perhaps would have to go back up the hill and do it all again.) So, since camp is a whole hour longer today and I got some work done this morning. I rewarded myself not with quiet knitting or a shower, but by donning gear and climbing the mountain.

Yes, there was a moment up the hill with a saw (which for the record is completely different than up a creek without a paddle, but no less scary), that I thought “this is rather dumb, I’m up here, no one from the house — which is empty — could see me and I have a saw. A saw, I’m not entirely sure how to use.” But what the heck, since when has ignorance and bravado not gotten me into worse trouble?

So, I begin to saw at a random trunk. Briefly, I thought “Prince is right, this is going to take all day.” Then I spotted a trunk that was already leaning pretty hard and I cut on that a bit. I had it on the ground in a few minutes and thought, ok, now I know how to attack. Slowly, but surely, I keep sawing — sometimes wondering if a butter knife would have been faster — but one trunk feel, then another and another. I cut about 6 separate trunks down the smallest of which was about 3″ in diameter — the largest at least 6″. I learned that the reason these trees have a habit of just falling is that they are rather soft wood and thus I only had to cut halfway though and then push REALLY hard.

The last two trunks I cut were the largest and both fell with a satisfying “CRACK.” I wanted to jump for joy, but knew I’d land on my ass. So, I did what any girl would do. I threw the tools down the hill and slowly made my way down (without sliding on my butt). Then promptly called Prince and told him I cut down a tree and it didn’t fall on the house!!!

I’m high on adrenaline now. And in need of a shower.

*Pokies are any plant that has spikes/thorns/or is otherwise pointy.  This is Duke’s word and I like it, so I keep it.

1. That I dropped a chocolate cake out of the fridge that Duke and I had made earlier in the week.
2. On the FLOOR. (it had two kind of frosting, only two LITTLE pieces ever cut out of it, and it sort of exploded in a mushroom cloud of cake/frosting/shame)
3. I considered having a slice and sharing with Duke, even after it hit the floor.
4. That the spot where the cake fell is the single cleanest bit of floor in my kitchen. (more…)

If I could write sonnets, I would. If I had more money I’d donate it to him. If I didn’t think I’d scare him, I’d hug him. But alas, I thanked him tons and paid for my haircut and promised photos from the cruise.

So, you ought to know the before: The Before

Then there is the after: The After

A few more photos on at Flickr, in case you need better views.

Reactions thus far:

Prince: Love the color, that looks great — would like it a bit longer, though.

Duke: Mama, you cut your hair. (yes, I did, what do you think)  I think it is silly.  (Does that mean you like it?) Yes!!!

Queen Mum:  Isn’t that the haircut I gave you about age 10?  See I was right then too.  (Um, yes — fine — but that time you kept trying to making it even was another story entirely — feel better?)

Oh yes, it is “haircut day.”  I freely admit that I’m thrilled and excited and a little scared.

No, I have no idea what it will be when I’m done.  I’m throwing myself on the mercy of “My Guy” and hoping for the best.  When I called, I may have started with “We need to talk”  which could be good or bad, but fortunately, I firmly believe that my guy gets me.  I know he’ll understand when I say I want something fun and funky, that I don’t mean a mohawk in blue.  I’m fairly certain that when I say, I want to not have to fuss with it much, that I don’t mean, “I want it to look like I rolled out of bed” and mostly, when I say, “Just make me look good”  he knows that the style can not involve more than 10 minutes total fuss time.

So, I head off today, looking forward to my new style — which I’m 60% sure will be my old style in 2 weeks — because I’m not so good with new tricks.  I’m fairly certain that the gray is getting hidden.  Hopefully photos will appear tomorrow, if I’m not wearing a hat for a bit.

I spent most of the day yesterday having flashbacks to high school detention. You see, I had traffic school* yesterday. Let me say that again, I had 8 hours of traffic school are really 6 hours and 40 minutes of instruction. Wait, instruction? I was supposed to be instructed on something? (more…)

Seriously, when have I ever gone this long without blogging?  Ok, there were all those times I was away on vacation, but seriously…I just posted something and then a week plus whirls past me. Frankly, it is a sad state when the husband updates more often than I.

See the problem is that I’ve been so busy lately that stopping to find something in my day that is bloggable and funny is hard.  Like work almost.  The other problem is that when I do have something happen that is bloggable and funny, I forget it — because let’s face it, my brain can only hold so much and is currently full of useless crap.

So, here’s the random stuff I can remember that I’ve been meaning to tell you:

1. My elbows hurt.  Yes, I realize that I’m old and getting older, but when did it become ok for my elbows hurting to wake me up at night?  yes it is both of them.  Yes it is the elbows themselves and not the joint — no seriously the BALLs of the elbows — the part you use to elbow your friend when you see something truly horrible on the street and you MUST point it out so you both may laugh.  Yes, the bone dangit.  And no, I have no idea why my elbows hurt.
2. Yesterday, I packed 122 goody bags full of cool and fabulous stuff.  And by we, I totally mean Prince and I packed them.  The best part was at 8am when he was all hopeful looking holding the first bag in his hand saying, “I’m ready” and I was all “Honey, I don’t have all the boxes laid out yet, wanna help me?”  Then he opened and moved a box and then picked up the bag again “I’m ready”  “Um, darling, this is going to be a bit.”  Him: “I’m really hoping this won’t take all day.” Me: “You keep hoping that ok — by myself it took me two days to do 75 of these last year.” Him: “But I’m here to help you this year.” Start time: 8am.  End Time: 3pm.  By definition this is ALL DAY!
3. Duke wants me to knit him a pair of socks.  Yes, his feet are small and I could knit him up a pair in little time — but I flatly refuse until he begins to put his own socks on his own feet for me.  Oh, yes — he’s perfectly capable and I’ve seen him do it — but given the choice of doing it himself or having Mama touch his stinky boy feet….oh, my…do I have to go there?  So the quandary is, do I knit the socks and tell him he can’t have them until he puts his socks on his own feet; do I knit the socks and tell him I will never put these socks on his feet, if he wants to wear them, he has to do it (and does this then commit me to a lifetime of knitting him socks because I won’t have to put them on him later — and where do I apply for a knitting daughter in law now?), or do I hold firm that I will not begin socks until he puts his current socks on his own feet?  It’s hard being the mommy.
4. I have a formal affair to go to tomorrow night.  Yes, because Wednesdays are formal night, why do you ask? No, I have no idea what I’m going to wear.  Yes, I have at least 5 to 7 different formal outfits ranging from very formal (think ball gown) to mildly formal (think garden party wedding).  But that’s not my biggest problem — my hair is my biggest problem.  I sort of need a haircut.  I have been putting it off because I need to decide if I’m going to keep coloring my hair.  The thing is, I don’t think I want to — but I am not sure I’m ready to be this gray.  The other problem is that if I decide to not color my hair, I have to deal with the grow out period and that isn’t all that pretty.  Add to that a whole formal event and cruise coming up and I have no idea what to do.  So, I’m asking for advice — dye or not dye? If dye, what color? And finally, what style?  Photos would be helpful.

So, since this is apparently advice day in Snarkville, I open the doors to you all, my gentle readers.  Advice me.