Spring Break

Last Spring Break my family came to visit me. I spent my vacation falling in love with the city I would adore to someday call home (Charleston, South Carolina), paddling through alligator-infested waters, and devouring all you can eat crab legs at Captain George's in Myrtle Beach. This year, my family was 2,236 miles away, and I was here with no vacation plans and a rapidly growing belly. This was slightly depressing. I got most sad when I found out my aunt, uncle, and cousins were going to be in Salt Lake visiting my family at the end of my Spring Break. In fact, I think they're still there. This is how I feel about that:

(Photo taken today, at 24 weeks)

I even checked airline tickets in a state of desperation, thinking just maybe there was some $100 round trip deal from Raleigh to Salt Lake that could soar me out to the loving arms of my family.
About that . . . Didn't happen.

I wallowed for a few days but managed to have a relaxing vacation, and I even snuck in a little bit of near-home fun.

Chad and I shot a small wedding in Raleigh to kick off Spring Break. The bride is a coworker of mine whom I adore. She is a sweetheart and a half. The ceremony was very intimate, and the entire affair very casual. I think it definitely should go down in history as the wedding with the least amount of stress. It made photographing the event feel easy, and we had a great time.

We also started some projects around the house. I have been wanting to do something about my front door situation. If you don't know what a front door "situation" is, let me enlighten you. We live on a corner lot, and our house faces the corner. It does not face our driveway. You cannot see the front door from the driveway, and the "brilliant" landscape architects who owned the home before us chose to lay the brick path that leads to our front door not beginning at the driveway, but at the street. The busy street where no one would EVER possibly park. It was a brick path to nowhere, my friends. This means that everyone who ever comes to my house (the pest control man, the grandmother of the teenager who rear-ended us and wanted to check up on me, the person who I expect any day to come and tell me I've inherited a million big ones from some dead relative I've never met) comes not to my front door, which opens into my always-straight-and-tidy-living-room, but instead to my BACK door, which opens into my not-always-so-straight-and-tidy breakfast room and kitchen. There is nothing worse than having an unexpected guest show up at your kitchen door. Nothing like greeting someone with a sink full of dirty dishes. And let's face it, no one unexpectedly shows up when your kitchen looks great. It just doesn't happen. It's like an unwritten law.

So. Now that you understand the front door "situation," you understand why I wanted to move the brick path that leads to nowhere and have it lead to somewhere. People will probably still come to the back door, but at least we can try.

Enter my amazing father-in-law. Seriously. Have you MET the man? He is fabulous. He is like every daughter-in-law in the world's dream. I have complained about this path a lot, and he knew that we were getting ready to start landscaping our yard. I told him I wanted to move the path, but I needed someone to come help me map out what it should look like. He came to our house EARLY on a Saturday morning, and while we were slumbering in our beds, moved cement pavers from our flower beds (that we were going to move anyway, because they were stacked in an atrociously ugly manner--another of the "brilliant" moves of the previous owners) into a cute little outline for a brick path FOR me. I know, you probably think I am kidding. I am not. He didn't even wake us up, he just did it. It was like a little landscape fairy (a very masculine type of fairy, mind you) stepped in to save the day.

Then, he helped us move the bricks from the previous path, start digging the new path, and replace the grass with the sod we dug up (by me, I mean they. I have done no digging, but I did help move bricks.)

THEN, when Chad and I went to Raleigh to spend a fun day together at the Museum of Natural Science, he came to our house while we were GONE and dug some more. WHO IS THIS MAN? Seriously, I love my father-in-law. He is like a super hero. He is one of the most unselfish people I have ever met. He does nice stuff like this for us all the time. This is the progress we have made on the path thus far:

(Also, notice our beautiful, shiny black shutters. Chad and I repainted those a few weeks ago.)

There are going to be flower beds that will curve out around the house and meet the path. It's going to be really beautiful when it's all said and done.

In the spirit of home improvement, I went shopping with my mother-in-law (who is also amazing, like her husband, and treated me to lunch) and I bought these adorable plates to coordinate with our kitchen:


How fun, right?!?! Don't you just want to EAT something at my house, so you can use them? Come on over (just use the front door). I found them at TJ Maxs, which if you didn't know is a code word for the most amazing store ever.

I spray painted another free piece of wicker furniture, and put this baby in our breakfast room:

And I spray painted an old floor lamp (also free) and found a lampshade for $2.99 so we can have a floor lamp next to our recliner.

Perhaps it is because of my pregnant state that a lot of my vacation also involved food and feeling sentimental.

I was thinking about my Grandma Joy the other day, and I instantly wanted to make club sandwiches, so I did:

I know it's really silly, but I always remember my Grandma having amazing sandwich stuff at her house. If she made you a sandwich it was no bologna and processed cheese. It was a full-on cafe-style sandwich. When I was probably somewhere between 12 and 14 I worked for my Grandma helping her clean house. My great-grandfather lived with my grandparents and I remember eating sandwiches like this while I visited with him during my "lunch break." I love my Grandma and I miss her very much. She lives in Seattle, so I don't get to see her very often.

Then, in keeping with the spirit of Grandma memories, I baked bread over vacation, too. My Grandma Jensen always baked her own bread. I don't think I ever remember seeing store-bought bread at her house. I have always been really intimidated by yeast recipes, and it hasn't been until recently that I've really started to try to get better at baking things like bread and rolls. Whenever I have a successful encounter with yeast, I feel just a tiny bit closer to my Grandma. She died when I was a senior in high school, but I have a lot of special memories with her.

This bread is not one of my Grandma's recipes. It is actually one of my mom's, that I think she stole from Brenda Goodrich (that means it is good, people.) My mom used to make it when I was little. It's cracked wheat bread. I have been craving this forever, but I had no idea where to buy cracked wheat. Then, when Chad and I were in Raleigh, we went to Whole Foods and they had some. We bought a pound of it, and I came home raving about the bread and how I couldn't wait to make it.

About half way through the first rise, I started wondering if time had affected my memory about the bread. Maybe it was good, but not really amazing.

Time had done no such thing, my friends.

Even Chad had to admit that it REALLY was amazing. Bread is one of my weaknesses, so Chad is used to me raving about bread when he only finds it mediocre. This time, he said I was right. It was delicious. Man, looking at these pictures makes me want to go make two more loaves right now!

Then I made this little baby for Chad's Papa's 75th birthday party (which was a fabulous night filled with North Carolina-style barbeque--something I have craved incessantly during my pregnancy, which is weird, because I usually don't like it--and hush puppies):


There was no sentimental reasoning behind the cake choice, she just looked good. She tasted as good as she looked.

All in all, it was a good Spring Break. Although I think it would have been better if my family had flown out to visit me.

Remember that One Time . . .

When we talked about the wonder that is owning a food processor?

Yeah. About that. It turns out it also comes in handy in the beverage department.

While perusing my favorite cooking site, Our Best Bites, I came across this beauty:

What your eyes are devouring is a Raspberry Citrus Slushy, and it is divine. You can use your food processor to make the raspberry puree portion of the beverage. The recipe can be found here (as can the photograph, since I snagged it from their site so you could get a full mental image of what I'm talking about).

My favorite part of making them was when I got to the part in the recipe that says "Place raspberries, powdered sugar, and 2 T water in a food processor and blend until smooth. Taste and add a little more powdered sugar if it's too tart still. If you don't have a food processor you could probably just smash them to a pulp!" Ha ha ha ha ha ha. Oh how it tickled my heart to realize that it would not be ME mashing frozen raspberries with a fork. (Thanks again, Mom!)

I froze the leftover slushy into our homemade popsicle molds, so I'll let you know how those go over.

This frozen treat was especially wonderful today, because Spring Break officially began for me this afternoon. Today was a beautiful eighty-something degree day in North Carolina. Yesterday I realized that the dogwood trees are blooming. I think they are the most whimsical trees, and I love it.

Happy Spring!

Baby Bump

Due to the popular demand for the infamous "baby bump" photos, see below. Neither are the best photos of me, but hey, we'll take what we can get. This is for the benefit of future posterity.

I had planned to take a "belly shot" every week. Turns out my procrastination skills also extend into pregnancy. So, instead of 21 pictures, I have a whopping two.

Here is me, thinking I was showing big time at a little over 16 weeks:

Here is me, thankful for waist-expansion Motherhood Maternity technology, at almost 21 weeks (20 weeks and 5 days to be exact):

I am half way there! In another four and a half months we'll have a new Reese in the house.

I am starting to feel like I look a little more pregnant, but mostly I just feel like people look at me and think, "Wow, she's put on some weight. Maybe she shouldn't consume her body weight in school-fundraiser-boxes-of-Krispy-Kreme-doughnuts." Come to think of it, it's hard to know how much of this new found tummy of mine is baby, and how much really is Krispy Kreme coated lard.

Here are some of the fun parts of pregnancy for me right now:
--Feeling the little saucer spin around in there. He is getting a lot stronger, and it makes me so happy every time I feel him move.

-- Buying and receiving adorable baby things. It is so much more fun to look at baby stuff now that we know we're having a boy.

-- Feeling like I have 100 times more energy than I did in my first trimester. I have been extremely blessed, and I do mean EXTREMELY blessed, and have felt pretty terrific throughout my entire pregnancy. I felt a little nauseated during the first trimester, but for the most part as long as I had a snack every couple of hours I was good to go. I only threw up once. I know. Amazing. I really am so thankful. Most of my nausea was at night time, which was also great because I didn't have to stress with morning sickness while I wrestled adolescents in the manana. Even though I felt great, I was tired ALL of the time. I seriously felt like I could sleep all day and not sleep enough. The last couple of weeks that has gotten so much better. I am still really tired in the morning, but morning crankiness is nothing new for me, so I don't really think that's a symptom of pregnancy. Last week I started going back to the gym. I talked to my doctor about it at my ultrasound and he said it was fine. I had planned to keep working out throughout my entire pregnancy, but my first trimester fatigue changed those plans. I feel like I have so much more energy now that I am being more active.

Some of the stresses of pregnancy for me right now:
-- I can't wear my wedding ring anymore because my ring finger breaks out into an intense rash every time I do. That means if someone I don't know actually does suspect I'm pregnant (rather than an over-consumer of Krispy Kreme goodness) they will probably think I am an unwed teenager (I am still getting mistaken for a student at my high school) and give me the stare down.

-- What are we going to name this kid? Seriously. Have you considered the tremendous amount of pressure that comes with choosing the name someone will be called by for the rest of their LIFE? Add to that the fact that every name I love Chad isn't thrilled with, and every name Chad loves isn't my favorite, and what do we have? Disaster. I don't know if 4.5 months is enough time to resolve this issue.

-- Waking up in the middle of the night to use the "facilities." This has never been an issue for me, and interrupted sleep isn't fun. I guess this is preparation for when the little guy arrives and interrupted sleep becomes non-existent sleep.

Buying Blue

This is what I bought after our ultrasound yesterday:

This sweater is absolutely precious (and it doesn't have a spot on it, so obviously I did something wrong when I took this picture).

This is seriously the SOFTEST fabric. I am in love with it. It's so fun to think a little baby will be wrapped up in it soon.

It's a boy!!! While I must admit that the idea of buying hair bows and dance shoes was very appealing, I am beyond thrilled to know I'm going to have a little boy to cuddle in about 5 months. I always wanted to have a boy first, so my kids could have a protective big brother. I also don't think much can replace the precious look of excitement Chad had when he saw the evidence appear on screen that we are having a son.

We had quite the scare on Friday, when I got a message from the doctor's office asking me to call and reschedule my ultrasound appointment. It said they had an available appointment at 11:00 a.m., but funny how my phone is off all day and I didn't get the message until 3:00. My appointment was supposed to be at 4:00, and Chad had already taken off the afternoon so he could be there. I knew we weren't going to get to see our baby today, and I was so disappointed. When I called, the receptionist said if we didn't care which doctor did the ultrasound, we could be seen today. Um, HELLO! YES! So, tragedy avoided, we drove over to Greenville and got to find out what we were having as planned.

It was the biggest relief to see our little guy all curled up in there. Our ultrasound technician, and the doctor, both said that our baby boy is developing just as he should. So far, he looks safe and healthy. I felt the baby move for the first time this week, so that has been priceless and fun, too.

It was so fun to watch all of the little boys at the Kinston basketball game last night and think about how soon we're going to have one of our own.

Now on to the name game . . . and setting up the nursery. Any favorite boy names?

It's a . . .

Ha! Had you fooled, didn't I? That's not on the news agenda until tomorrow, remember?

In the mean time, let me tell you about a pleasant surprise from the teaching realm the last few days.

I have been incredibly frustrated this school year by my students' overall lack of ambition. While I teach a lot of lovely, exceptional folks, I also teach some who are . . . well . . . not lovely, nor exceptional.

I have always known I would not be an easy teacher. That isn't my style. I know I am a tough grader, and I have high expectations for my students.

My first year teaching, that really worked for me. I probably wasn't tough enough classroom management wise (a pretty typical thing for a beginning teacher), but I feel like I pushed my students to learn. I think students generally still liked me, and I had a good rapport with the kids. I miss Lehi High School a lot. In retrospect, things I complained about, I should be shot for complaining about. I had it pretty posh.

My second year teaching was interesting. The first semester I spent in immense culture shock, but I still loved my students, and very little changed as far as the way I pushed them academically. I feel like the year went well, once I adjusted to my new environment.

Enter my third year teaching. I am still the toughie I've always been, but I've been met with a lot of resistance this year. I don't know what is different, but something is. In the past, I've felt like students haven't loved working hard (we're talking about teenagers here), but I feel like they've known I am pushing them because I care, and they've stepped up to the challenge (obviously not ALL of them, but most of them). This year, I feel like I've been met with a lot of resentment.

I have a lot of students who would be content to do nothing. This hurts me. It's like there is absolutely no desire to learn. No spark. Nada. Nothing. Sadly, a lot of these kids are honors students (which don't even GET me started on that).

At the start of this semester, I had a student tell me she was scared of me.

This has made me sad.

I have always known I didn't want to be the easy teacher, but I also didn't want to be the "mean" teacher.

Well, this week I announced my pregnancy to my classes, and I have had a much needed self-esteem boost the last couple of days.

So many of my students from last year, and even from last semester, have come by to tell me how excited they are for me. Even the little girl from last semester who was mad about the C on her research paper stopped by my room to give me a big hug and tell me she thought I was going to be an amazing mom. Even my students from this semester have been really cute and excited. I know that this isn't really that big of a deal, but to me this was just a testament that I haven't completely desecrated my relationship with these kids, and that maybe they did have a positive experience in my class.

These are my favorite reactions to my pregnancy announcement:

"Oh, is that why you've been so moody?"
--Oh, if I could only tell you what has really been making me so moody. Most of it involves dealing with you.

"But, Mrs. Reese, if you're pregnant . . . why aren't you getting any bigger?"
--Should I hug you now, or later? Oh, how you've made my little heart soar with happiness.

"How do you know for sure that you're pregnant? Did you take a pregnancy test?"
--No, I just thought I would announce it to a classroom full of adolescents before I found out for sure.

They make me laugh. Despite how hard my job has been for me this year, days like the last couple remind me that I do enjoy being a teacher.

5 Days Away!

I love surprises.

I would much rather be surprised on Christmas morning than know what I'm going to get.

It's just so much more fun that way.

This is one time in my life when I don't want to be surprised. I am DYING to know what this baby is. If you are one of those people who didn't find out the gender of your child until delivery, power to you. I think you're insane, but that's awesome. I seriously don't have that much patience.

I feel like I can't do anything (i.e. choose a wall color, buy adorable outfits, start really looking at baby names) until that screen shot shows me if we have a male or a female on our hands.

You have five days left to vote, people. I am really interested in people's guesses. Chad's entire family thinks the saucer is a boy. Everyone at my work thinks the saucer is a girl. I am uncontrollably wishy-washy and don't really have any true feelings either way. I will be beyond thrilled, regardless. I just want to know if I should start buying blue or pink. On Friday I will be put out of my misery.

Heaven help us if this baby doesn't cooperate with the ultrasound tech. I think I will seriously go insane!

Kitchen Upgrade

From This:

To This:

To most people, these two kitchen tools probably have little to nothing in common. To me, they have everything in common. You see, the number one reason I wanted a food processor was so I could create these
with more ease. They are delectable truffles of the Oreo variety, first introduced to me by a woman whose cooking I respect and admire (that would be my dear friend, Wendi). When she gave me the recipe, she told me how easy they were to make. She was right. If I had a food processor. But for the last few years, every time I make this scrumptious treat I've had to break out the rolling pin and freezer bags and hammer away. It is a painstaking process to crumble 36 Oreos by hand into a fine powder.

My mom gave me a food processor for my birthday this year, and I tried it for the first time last night. A. MAZ. ING. Seriously. It took about 3 seconds to obliterate any evidence that the powder in the bowl had once belonged in a sandwiched cookie. (Note to self: never put finger anywhere near food processor blade unless machine is unplugged.)

I think I'm in love.

Not only that, but it turns out my new kitchen gadget is good for all kinds of other purposes. I think I will soon begin to forget what life was like before it entered my life.

And while we're on the subject of new things entering our lives, I saw these at the grocery store yesterday and about died:

They were that cute. They are baby bananas. I didn't buy them, because they were about a quadruple hundred times more expensive than regular bananas, but don't think I wasn't tempted. Isn't everything just CUTER when it's a baby?

Thank you so much for all of the congratulations and happy wishes. I am getting more and more excited for our little saucer to join this family of dishes, as is my tummy which is continually expanding. I'm still wearing street clothes, but I can definitely tell my body is changing. We find out on March 5th if we're having a boy or girl, so be sure to cast your vote in the poll.

Job Promotion

It may not be too much of a secret that I have been harboring some ill feelings about my job recently. Well, I have some great news! I got a job promotion! From what I hear, this will prove to be the hardest and the best job I will ever have. Here's the scoop:

More responsibility.

Longer hours, consisting of a lot of late night shifts.

No pay increase.

Home improvement projects will be necessary, consisting of some shade of pastel probably adorning our spare room's walls.

My new boss expects me to report for duty sometime around August 3rd.

I am thrilled to announce, after weeks of secrecy and silence (it's SO hard not to shout good news from the mountain tops):

Chad and I are going to be parents!!!

Deceit

A little over a week ago, I walked outside sporting a short sleeved shirt. Spring was in the air. I know that we are only on the cusp of February, but I was deceived into the promise of tulips and butterflies, dogwood and azalea blossoms. Funny how I have only spent a year and a half as an official resident of the South, but I have most definitely become a Southern girl when it comes to my thoughts and feelings about winter. I simply don't think it should exist past Christmas. I have worn my sweaters. I have adorned my coat. My scarves. An occasional set of mittens. There is no reason for winter to remain. That is why when an ice storm from a place that is not heaven blasted through our state this weekend, my body protested immensely. I laughed when my students told me about the weather man's expectation for snow. Yet, on Friday night the snow came. Then the freezing rain came. The wind. The cold.

Here's the thing. In Utah, when a storm like that comes through, everything goes on as normal. People drive. They go to school. They go to work. They go to church.

Here, none of those things happen. The entire town shuts down. No one is equipped for snow removal, people are petrified to drive in the foreign white powder, and businesses and schools close because no one will show up anyway.

Don't worry. We laugh in the face of such danger. We were prepared, so we did not fear.

Did we go to the grocery store and buy out all of the bread and milk like other Kinston residents? No.

Did we already have a perfectly stocked food storage, which meant we needed to make no such trip to the grocery store? No, not exactly...

When I found out it was going to be that cold, and that we might be trapped inside for an entire weekend, I thought of one thing: moving in with my in-laws.

Sure enough, there were nine of us plus a tiny tot at my husband's childhood home this weekend. We had a blast. It felt like an extended holiday vacation.

We played board games.

We played card games.

We laughed and chatted.

We entertained the most precious toddler I have ever known.

We curled up in front of the gas fireplace when the electric heat failed downstairs.

We ate (because even if MY pantry is not perfectly stocked, Mama Joy's IS).

We stayed in our pajamas all day on Saturday.

We watched the yard turn into a winter landscape that could easily be mistaken for Narnia: trees draped with icicles and car windows laced with kisses from Jack Frost.

When church was canceled I can't say I was sad to think I no longer had to prepare a talk for sacrament meeting.

When it was announced that school is canceled for tomorrow I can't say I was sad to think I no longer had to get up at 6:00 in the morning.

The weekend has been pretty grand, even if I am irked at North Carolina for deceiving me into wishful thinking for Spring.

Now that we are home in our cozy cottage with plaster walls, single-paned windows, and a heating system that was probably installed sometime before I was born and is (to quote our heating and air guy) "running on borrowed time," I am most definitely sure that we made the right decision by moving out during the brunt of the storm. I am also most definitely certain that I am beyond thankful that this type of cold weather is a novelty in the state that I now call home. Otherwise, I think my love and devotion for my cute house might start to waver.

Blogging Failure

So. My last post was quite a while ago. There really is no GOOD excuse for my lack of documenting the wonderful events of my life. It will be quite sad some day when I actually get around to making a hard copy of all of these posts and realize that months at a time were never written about. Now, because I have let all the fun, witty posts pass me by, I have nothing to write, so this will be my lame attempt at posting, just so I can say I wrote something. Here's a couple things:

1) We spent a wonderful Christmas with my family, and I took about three photos the entire time I was there. Somehow, a Christmas post without photos just didn't seem exciting enough. Then, by the time I decided I should post about it anyway, photo-less, the fact that it is now the end of January really makes a Christmas post seem anti-climactic. (Kind of like the Christmas cards I was going to send all of you that never made it to the post office. . . Sorry about that, folks. You still may get a Valentine's Day card if I muster up the energy to send them.) We had a grand time in Utah this year. We ate. We slept in. We ate. We were spoiled with some fabulous gifts. And we ate some more. Even now as I type this I crave the Cafe Rio that will not be mine again for months, and months, and months.

2) I've ended another semester as a high school English teacher. I think one of the main reasons I haven't posted much this year has been my extreme negativity about my job, and knowing that there's only so much I can complain about on a public forum without somehow getting fired, so there you go. I'm worn out and frustrated. Enough said. I still love teaching, but teaching somehow seems to become less and less of my job description as the months tick by, which is hard to explain unless you've ever been an employee of the public education system. If you haven't, I'm sorry that I can't elaborate. If you have, you know exactly what I'm talking about. The good news is it appears that I kept my bad attitude more concealed than I thought. On my evaluation forms this year most of my students said they appreciated my positive demeanor and how happy I always was, which made me feel a lot better about the entire situation. The new semester will start next Wednesday, so I guess it's time to just put the things I can't change to the side and enjoy the things I can.

There you go. A couple of thoughts to compensate for the thoughts that have been neglected around here the past few months.

When they named it Black Friday . . .

They must have been talking about the circles under my eyes. Black, dark circles. When my alarm went off this morning, at 2:45 a.m., I momentarily lost touch with reality. I was a tad bit angry that something was daring to disturb the peaceful slumber to which my body had succumbed. For that brief moment I forgot. Then, realization struck: Shopping. Day after Thanksgiving. $97 GPS. I was awake.

I spent the next fifteen minutes trying to make myself presentable before Lauren came to pick me up. A glance in the mirror told me there wasn't much that fifteen minutes could fix: I looked like Quasimodo. My eyes were all puffy, which gave my face a sort of warped, deformed quality. A quick face wash and mascara application later, and my French-hunchback self was off to Greenville.

What is it about Black Friday, dear readers? Why is it that I simply can't resist it? On the outside it's nothing but disaster. Black Friday is mobs of people waiting in lines outside in the cold, who then start waiting in lines for a dressing room, who then move to waiting in lines to pay, and finally finish waiting in lines to get out of the parking lot, so they can drive to the next store and start again. Nothing about that sounds fun, but it IS.

When I sprinted through Target in my BYU hoodie, weaving through a sea of red shopping carts and agitated shoppers, I felt nothing but excitement. When I clutched that precious TomTom in my hand and knew that I had, indeed, won, I felt nothing but extreme satisfaction. And when I walked into Shoe Carnival thirty minutes later, and they handed me a $10 gift card just for walking into the store, I knew the day would be glorious. Glorious it was.

Eleven stores and eight hours later, I thought I might be dying.

I wonder how I will possibly walk tomorrow. I am exhausted.

At least I will die knowing I found some killer deals.

The good thing is I have 365 days to forget about how tiring Black Friday is, so I can savor it again next year.

6 of These

Are headed to my classroom. I wrote a grant with another teacher and we got it! $1,000 to buy these digital, miniature camcorders with video editing software for our department. Think of all the cool project possibilities with these little babies in tow. I am so excited!

When Your Job Gives You Lemons

Forget about your job and remember other things that have nothing to do with it.

Sometimes, I lay in bed at night and dream about finding a nice secretarial job. You know the kind. Something low key, with a higher salary than teaching (somehow I doubt that's hard to find), with benefits, and a boss who gives me a nice Christmas bonus and an occasional, "Thanks, Katie, you're really good at your job." Maybe even a raise when he sees how fabulous I am. A nice secretarial position where I work from 8 to 5. When I go home at night, I'll be done with work. I won't have to think about it until the next morning. No papers to grade. No lazy teenagers. No homecoming ballots to copy, and stuff, and count. Let's face it: I'd make a killer secretary.

Instead, I work in a job where being good at it means I get added responsibilities with no additional compensation. And, while I work on my additional responsibilities, the stacks of papers I'm supposed to be grading just keep piling. The piles keep getting larger. And larger. And today, around the time that I agreed to be an emergency sub for someone's Spanish class during my prep period, while struggling to repair the technology that I needed for a lesson I was giving after lunch (which I wouldn't be eating because I had lunch duty), I almost cried. Almost is huge for me. I'm surprised I didn't lose it.

A lot of days I love my job. It makes me feel all warm fuzzy inside. A lot of days, in fact most days, an email from a parent thanking me for what I do for her child is enough. Having a student write, "I love you, Mrs. R!" on my whiteboard is enough. Watching a kid really GET something, and knowing I made that happen is enough. Today is not one of those days. Today I am tired. I am tired of feeling so physically exhausted. Tired of hearing, "This is boring." Tired of watching kids sleep through class. Tired of an honors class that didn't even bother to read The Great Gatsby and massacred what could have been an enlightening discussion. Tired of working twelve hour days and not getting paid for it. Today is a day I contemplate searching help wanted ads for a new profession.

Now, here I sit at home, and it's time for me to prove to myself that my life is not completely and utterly crappy. Here it goes.

On Friday, Lauren and I went shopping in Goldsboro. My mission: finds for the house. I love doing anything with Lauren, but shopping with her is especially fun. We are very thorough shoppers. We are bargain hunters. We start in one corner of a store and leave no stone unturned. We fondle every fabric, and we smell every candle. It took us about five hours to circulate three stores. Shopping is hard work, I tell you, and I'm hoping three hard core hours of it will compensate for the weeks I've neglected to go to the gym. I found some great stuff for the house at amazing prices (gotta love Ross and TJ Max). Some of my finds helped contribute to the completion of the sun room (well. . . somewhat completion) after we repainted the wicker furniture Joy and Bruce gave us. The finished product, for now, looks something like this:

Here's the wicker furniture pre-paint job and during paint job:




And the finished product:


On Saturday, Chad and I joined Cameron, Lacey, and Cassie for the U2 and Muse concert in Raleigh. U2 has long been on my list of bands to see in concert before I die. Considering this is the first time they've toured in the United States in twelve years, I'd say I kind of lucked out getting to see them. I have started to refer to this show as the highlight of my life, but since that seems to hurt Chad's feelings (something about our wedding day maybe needing to fill that spot in my memory), I'll just say this concert will forever be a close second. Muse sounds as amazing live as they do on CD; I would definitely pay to see them in concert as the headliner. And U2? I don't care if they're old. Any group that wrote songs two years after my birth and is still rocking out is just cool. Period. It was a fabulous concert. Feast your eyes and ears on the highlights:

First, here are the photos of us being amazed by the stage and excited for the concert to start. We got there VERY early, which was a super good thing. Apparently, a lot of folks were stupid and got stuck in traffic. These losers missed Muse, and in some terrifying cases, even part of U2's set. Another good reason for arriving early was getting free parking in a bank parking lot a mile away, instead of paying $20 to park at the stadium. Plus, when the security guards told us we couldn't have backpacks, it gave Lacey and I time to walk all the way back to the car. The security guard also told us we could bring treats but no water bottles. Funny how when we got back from the car, a different security guard said there was no food allowed. Don't you worry, we got to bring in our Almond Joys and Sour Patch Kids! We held the first guy to his word.

Chad and me:
Cameron's first concert. I'm pretty sure every show afterward is going to savor of anticlimax:

The whole crew, ready for the show to start (you can tell how early we were by all the empty seats in the stadium):
Lacey and me being our typical, solemn selves:

Lacey and Cassie (I loved listening to these two sisters bicker. It took me back to my Moses Lake years. I love these girls!):
Just before Muse performed:

A short clip of the concert, for any of you Muse fans out there:

During a few key moments the stage lit up enough to get some decent photos. Here's are a couple of shots of U2:

And video footage for your enjoyment:

My one regret is not getting any footage of the drunken Brazilian lady doing the samba during every song. Man, she had some energy.

Then, when we got home Sunday morning, I had this surprise waiting for me in my dining room:


Merry Christmas to me! This corner, china cabinet belonged to Chad's great grandmother. She recently passed away, and this is a Christmas present from Joy and Bruce, who bought it for us from her estate sale. Thank you so much! It's beautiful, sentimental, and I love it!


Yup, I'd say my life is pretty far from being crappy after all. That was therapeutic. Thanks for indulging me.

September Happenings

A couple Fridays ago, a friend called me to ask what I was up to. She wanted to invite me to go to our high school's football game with her. My response was, "Sorry, I'm on my way to my in laws to make grape juice." She laughed. "Is this how you spend your Friday nights?" she asked. She's often giggled about my weekend festivities. Hers usually involve local bars, and she finds my Mormon ways sans alcohol humorous and interesting. I love that Chad and my idea of a good time involves food and family. Here are some photos of our recent food-fabulous activities:

Personal Pizza Night--

On this occasion, each of us created our own personal pizza from quite the assortment of toppings. It was a lot of fun and very tasty.





Homemade Grape Juice--
Our sweet neighbors have grape vines, and when we asked if we could use some to make grape juice with they generously shared.


As you can see, we only got four jars, but it was a lot of fun, and extremely yummy.

Last night, we went to the Lenoir County Fair (it's got nothing on the Grant County variety of my childhood. . . sorry, Kinston) and feasted on a greasy funnel cake, then went to Joy and Bruce's for more food. Bruce grilled a couple quick steaks, we threw some frozen pizza things in the oven, and I made Brazilian lemonade (recipe from Our Best Bites, of course). It was all quite delicious, although I'm pretty sure Cameron's date thought that between our eclectic food choices and strange card playing we were all insane.

In other news, we finally finished our sun room TODAY! My favorite room in the house is now use able, and I couldn't be more happy about it. I finished the last coat of paint on the trim this morning, and my wonderful father-in-law came over this afternoon to help install the ceiling fan. I've got to give the built-in about a week of drying time before I can stack it with books, but for now, this is what it looks like:



Chad and I have managed to steal yet some more furniture from our very generous in-laws, so we'll have some wicker stuff in here for awhile until we can afford to buy furniture of our own. I'm going to paint it this week, so I'll post pictures of the room again once it's furnished.

That reminds me. I don't think I ever posted pictures of our front rooms with furniture, so here are some (the pictures aren't the best, but at least you can get an idea):

This is the sofa that we bought pretty soon after moving into our house. It's one of the only pieces of furniture we've actually bought. It's very comfy and looks a lot nicer than our previous 1980's sofas. The first sofa of our marriage was provided by The Branbury Apartments, and the second one was inherited from Meredith and Adam's apartment complex--they were apartment managers and their complex was throwing away furniture, so we got a sofa and love seat for free. Yes, we inherited furniture that was deemed garbage by a PROVO apartment complex. That should tell you what it looked like. One arm was completely collapsed, so I stuffed it with pillows underneath our slip cover. It was a gem, let me tell you. Anyway, I love this little leather number much more.

We're going to recover these wing backs eventually, but for now they're in Chad's grandparents' original baby blue. I love a good wing back, and I've already found a really fun striped fabric I'd love to use. The drop leaf end tables were theirs, too, and they are absolutely beautiful. I love them.

Super comfy recliner that we also inherited from Chad's grandparents, and the rug I bought at Ollie's (oh how I love giant Big Lots-esque stores):

The dining room furniture that we inherited from Chad's parents. (Are we sensing a trend here? Man, our house would be so empty without family finds. Thanks so much, EVERYONE!)

I love our little house. It's getting closer and closer to being finished. We worked on finishing off the counter tops in the kitchen today, and once we get a couple of drawers built, that room will be done, too. Progress is so beautiful. I love it.

How to Ensure Use of Your Entire Wardrobe

1. Don't do laundry for two weeks.

We usually do laundry once a week, and usually Saturday becomes laundry day. Last Saturday, Joy's washing machine broke down while she was mid-load, so she came over and used our washer and dryer to finish up. I figured we'd do our laundry on Monday or Tuesday, but instead it sat in the hamper and accumulated more dirty camisoles, polos, and pajama bottoms as friends. We finally did laundry THIS Saturday, but that meant two weeks of getting really creative when it came to wardrobe selection. Friday I wore a pair of jeans that had previously been put in the "work wear" section of the dresser. It was time.

2. Refuse to iron for a few months.
I hate ironing. I detest it. Nay, I utterly loathe it. If I could, I would hire a maid whose sole job was to iron my clothing. The thing is, as much as I hate ironing, I adore tops and bottoms that seem to require it. You know, tops with ruffles and pleats, made out of fabric that looks gorgeous when it's crisply pressed, but looks disastrous if you just pull it out of the dryer. I have not had a real "ironing session" for a very long time. After we do laundry, we hang everything up that is supposed to be ironed in the guest room closet. The idea is,we'll iron it and it will be put away in the right place. This hasn't happened since summer vacation started (Joy, if you are reading this, I hope you haven't had a heart attack). It is now September, if you don't have a calendar right handy. Now, I have been forced to iron a couple of pieces between then and now, but for the most part, I've adjusted my outfits and just haven't worn anything that requires my least favorite chore.

I have been wearing clothes I forgot I had! This probably means I own too many clothes, and that it's time to clean out my closet, but whatever. Seriously, this is a terrible thing to confess, because now you will all know how incredibly lazy I am. Honestly though, it has been amazing how many different outfits you can come up with when you're forced to really analyze the only things left in your closet.

I finally had to suck it up and iron a few things last night-I was running out of wrinkle-free options. I make no promises as to when the ironing will resume. As Lauren would say, "Don't judge me."