The End of a Very Long Week

This past week I have been a full time student. I was never keen on taking compressed courses in college, and time hasn't altered that opinion. That aside I feel very blessed to have had the opportunity. I don't have to worry about continuing education credits again until my yet to be born child is a toddler.

This week was the first time I put Emily in day care. It was traumatic for us both (although I tend to think it was more traumatic for me). She had a great time while I was in class, fingerpainting, playing with playdoh and making shaving cream sculptures. She was with friends of mine whom she has known all all her life. I knew she was in good hands. Still, it was great picking her up on Friday afternoon knowing that we were going back to life as we knew it.

While I was in class, my house stayed so much cleaner without Emily to mess it up. I didn't have to tell her to leave things alone a thousand times a day and I never asked myself my favorite question: Did she eat enough of this (fill in the blank) that I should call poison control? Something tells me that Monday morning, when I don't have to drop her off for the day, I won't mind those things so much.

And the results are...

Inconclusive. I was hoping to have the same experience I had with Emily, where I came out of the ultrasound room and went straight to the home improvement store to buy Tinkerbell wallpaper. Instead I came away with the knowledge that it was "more likely than not" a girl. But only slightly more likely. We didn't even get any good pictures. The baby was all scrunched up the whole time and so all we got were bits and pieces.

I am sort of relieved and only a little worried that there are a couple minor issues that need checking back on so maybe that day I can get a better answer. On the bright side, if it is a boy we can still go shopping and if it is a girl, we haven't lost any money thanks to the 12 square feet in the basement dedicated to boxes of Emily's former wardrobes.

Gripe Warning

This is how I feel today. I am the cat and the puppy is the power drunk drafting instructor at our local community college

I hereby rescind my apology to drafters. I am still willing to extend the hand of friendship to those drafters who are willing to be reasonable, but I realize I was quite mistaken in thinking that if I assumed an attitude of humility, they would be willing to work with me.

Allow me to explain: After a great deal of research I have decided the best, quickest, and cheapest way to get my continuing education credit is to take a drafting course at the community college. Unfortunately, the only course that works out time-wise is a beginning course in software that I am already proficient in. I still decided to go for it. Why? Because I can get enough credits for three years in a week's worth of classes for under $200. I was told today by the instructor that I can't take the course. Why? Because he doesn't believe that an engineer can be proficient enough with the software to qualify to take a beginning course. This is a classic case of a drafter with a gripe against engineers.

So my question is: What do you do when you run into a jerk like this? I am open to suggestions and please be creative. So far the voodoo doll isn't working (unless the reason why this guy isn't returning my calls is because his leg fell off and shoved itself into his mouth).

The Craftiness of Women

It's amazing how a room full of ladies with glue guns, scrapbooking pages, iron on transfers or mod podge can make me feel like I'm back in seventh grade gym class not getting picked for a volleyball team. I would rather spend the afternoon having a root canal than crafting.

When I craft I feel as if I am trying to diffuse a bomb while wearing boxing gloves. I was once told, "You know, you could be a much better crafter if you if you just tried". This statement presupposes two things 1) That I really would be better at it if I tried (which I might not), and 2) That I care enough to try to improve my skills (which I don't).

I just don't care. I feel a huge weight being lifted as I admit this and yet I also feel as if I'm offending 3/4 of my friends. You know - the ones who have hand crafted signs in their entryways that say something like "Bless this Mess" or "Friends Welcome Here" or "NO Stairway to Heaven". But what's the point in having friends who don't love you for who you are?

This brings me to last night. This year, some of my friends had put together a team for Race for the Cure. I thought as long as I was going, I may as well join their team, which honors their grandmother who passed away from breast cancer. Last night I got a call saying we would be meeting to make shirts to be worn on race day in conjunction with this effort to honor their Grandma Ruby. Now, I am all for honoring this great lady, but I wasn't thrilled that it required a crafting effort on my part. The shirts were to say "Ruby Racers" and be studded with red rhinestones. Here's where I let the finished shirt do the talking for me:

Sorry, Grandma Ruby. I plan on making a new one this afternoon.

The most tragic part of this story is that I was just called as Enrichment Counselor in my ward's Relief Society (for those of you who don't know what this is, one of my duties is to oversee enriching activities for the ladies and I will be lynched if a great many crafts are not included). I plan on counting on the Enrichment Leader to take care of the details and the appliquéing. Maybe now's the time to finally start making my effort. Or maybe it's time the ladies of our ward put away their bedazzlers and learned how to program macros.