Feet & Inches.

I parked on the sidewalk.

Yeah, I did that. In fact, I did that many times.
Here's how.
And here's why.
And here's why I won't be doing it any more.

The how is easy. When we pull up to our spot, I veer slightly to the right until I feel the 2 right wheels raise up a couple of inches. Not up to the yard on the other side of the sidewalk. But about a foot or so onto the sidewalk. (Please note that that leaves about 3 feet of available sidewalk, should anyone need to walk the 6 feet from the front of our car to the back).
So that's how.

As to why... You may remember me mentioning at some point a few months ago that our pretty blue car got side-swiped while parked in front of our house. (Well, it's the house we rent from. That's why we don't actually get to park on the big driveway attached to the house).
So.
Due to that side-swiping that led to a totalling of the car that led to a whole bunch of money being applied towards the search and purchase of a new car.... I now choose to help our neighbours. How do I help them? Well, since I thought maybe the car-hitting-neighbour was potentially not the only neighbour to find our car in its way, I've been helping everyone out. You know... by putting two of our wheels part way onto the sidewalk.
No big deal, right?
I mean, I get that that's better for cars but worse for pedestrians. I get that. But I also get a thing or two about our society. I mean, let's be real: I see many many people driving around here. I see almost no one walking. Terrible, really. But it is what it is.
Anyways... that's the why.

As to why I won't be doing that any more... fifty dollars.
(That's like 30 Tim Hortons' or like 4 Starbucks', if that helps).
I thought for a while that for sure if the neighbourhood police (like the actual ones who have uniforms and get paid for it, not the ones who go for a walk every 2 months and then feel its their duty to call the real cops to rat out their neighbour who's parked on the sidewalk) heard my reasoning, they would care. And they would understand. And therefore they would, you know... cancel the ticket.
But they won't.
And besides, I've had an epiphany.
The letter of the law is where it's at.
That's one of the reasons why I won't be doing it any more.

But here's my other reason.
I want to be a teacher again some day.
And when you're running a classroom, you have rules. And sometimes students break them.
And when they break them... I don't want to have beholden myself to hear a whole story from every student every time they feel they have a great reason for why they should be allowed to break the rule.
There's just no time for these things.

So I paid the 50 bucks.
Because you know what else?

You're not supposed to park on the sidewalk.

Gills and Qi.

I'm doing what I'm always doing when I've sat down to make a list of the homework I need to accomplish over the next 4 days.

A lot of other things.

For example, I'm drinking coffee.
Decaf, of course.
Selfishly, so I sleep tonight... and protectively, so our baby doesn't get gills. Or a headache. Or something like that.

I look sad. But I'm not.
Because:

A) I love that coffee mug. My mum bought it for me as a pre-wedding present. I use it every day - sometimes twice. And I'm trying to get over this perpetual fear I have... every time I see it on any table anywhere, I worry that it will fall off and smash to bits. Because I love it so much.

B) I just got to watch the girls basketball team that I coached for the last 2 years play in their Junior game. I love those girls. They hugged me. They giggled. They scored a lot of points today.

C) I am hearing occasional "blips" in the background that indicate someone has played a word. So it's my turn.


Which brings me to my next subject today. Words with Friends.
Ryan has been very concerned for me and the millions of people out there playing this game. He worries about its addictive properties.
Psssh. Ryan.
{be right back. just heard another blip}

The thing with Words is that it kind of makes you smarter... but mostly makes you un-smarter. (I wasn't allowed to call things stupider growing up, I don't think).
For example.
My conscious, linguistically-minded brain knows there's not a word out there spelled J-U-G-O-F.... or V-I-M-E-F... but you better believe I'm going to try to use those words. For like 37 points, I'm going to try.

So we try. And try.

And then after a while you get used to certain words. Like QI.
Ya, you heard me. If you ever play this game, you're like "Yeah, yeah, I just used that word this morning to score like a triple word!"

So now my goal is to use qi in conversation (my spell check has actually underlined qi in red... what does that tell you?...).
But I have no idea how. Is it a noun? An adjective? A verb??

"My, what a nice qi you have. Could I borrow it for the weekend?"

"Ooooh, you're looking very qi today. Was it something you ate?"

"Before I get up every morning, I qi. Then I put my feet over the side of the bed."


I better stop before I accidentally say something rude.

Spools & Tools.

What dreams are made of...

I found this pinafore pattern online a few months ago. 

{Isn't "pinafore" one of those delightful words you could chew on all day?}

It's reversible, so the two images below are the same dress. 

Made for a brand new dark-haired beauty named Evelina Rose. 

{almost as delightful as Pinafore Rose}

It was so much fun the first time, I thought... why not try again?

I'm addicted. 

{What if we have a boy?...}

I'm not a one-craft kind of woman. 

So to keep things fresh I alternate between sewing, 

and knitting (but that's for another day), 

and paper crafts (again...), 

and this one: 

A combo of fabric, paint, mod podge, 

and happiness. 

 Credit for the initial inspiration goes to a large chunk of off-white wall. 

When we decided to pursue home-made Christmas gifts this year, 

I knew of a couple sisters with an affinity for craftiness. 

Yep, craftiness.

Here's the new-and-improved (self-acclaimed) versions I'm morphing into:

If you need me, I'll be at my sewing machine.
Happy as a clam.

Dust & Blueberries.

So far, my favourite thing about this new semester has been the 2 hour break I have between classes on M, W, F.
Don't misunderstand me. I wasn't necessarily one of those kids who said my favourite part of school was recess. It's just that as an adult, these pockets of time where you can't be at home tidying up after yourself or walking back and forth to the kitchen to turn on the kettle... and turn it on again because you forgot about it... or grab a handful of blueberries from the fridge...
(mmm, there's no good way to finish that long sentence read-ably now).

So, let me just say that when you're not distracted by those things, you can tackle some of the other little things you've new-years-resolutized to do!

One of those things is to work out on campus. It's an interesting experience to hit the elliptical in a gym full of "young" people... when your belly is growing out in front of you.
It's funny the thoughts that run through your mind when you're running through the air - sweating, but going nowhere:
"I hope people realize that just because my belly is growing doesn't mean I haven't been to the gym."
"Hmm, should I stick it out so it's clear how distinctly baby it is?"
"Or, should I suck it in so maybe no one will even notice?"
"Oops, should not have sucked in. Now I have to pee. Again."

Anyways. Choosing not to use this particular hour to tread thin air in the presence of 20-year old taut-and-toned bodies.

Rather, I'm in my other favourite place on campus.

What better place to read the Good Book that surrounded by the smell of thousands of books.
I genuinely love that smell. The perfect mixture of nostalgia and dust.
You?

The other reason it's my favourite:

Snowy day, wet day, fall day, sunny day (well, theoretically)... always a good view. 

Hard to believe the snow, really. Only 3 days ago, I took this picture:

That was in BC. I promise. No touch-ups to make that sky blue (like I'm computer literate enough to know how to do that anyways). Blue sky. 

Anyways. That's me. That's where I hang. Me and the books. 

I'd say come join me here sometime, but to be honest... I like my alone time. 

And. They don't let you talk there. 

So we'd just be awkwardly staring at each other. 

Bedsheets & Frosted Flakes.

Cleaning up from Christmas has been a gradual process for me. I'm finding this year that I'm allowing myself the pace I needed to reflect, respond, reenergize...

For example. When we stepped off of the plane and arrived back at our BC apartment on Dec. 29, I took down about half of our Christmas decorations - approximately 26 days earlier than usual for me. Approximately. And I don't know if any of you do this, but I find when I've had time to sit (i.e. on a plane for 2 hours) before I clean (i.e. remove a Christmas village from a beautiful shelf), I've pictured the process in my head over and over about 34 times.

So, when I actually do it in real life, it's very satisfying.

Another gradual response to Christmas ending has been spending time with people. We had a really meaningful, quality visit with family and friends in Regina for Christmas. Because of that, we came back refreshed in spirit. I can't say in body, because Ry was sore from all the outdoor hockey and a hard spill on the curling pebbles. And I had bad heartburn I think from 2 weeks of "sipping" eggnog, in which all the sips added up to a great big pool of liquid wonder.

Nevertheless. We were refreshed in spirit.

So. When our house was filled with people from all over the "world" (Paraguay, North Carolina, Toronto, Regina, Ottawa, Winnipeg... Langley), we loved it. Loved it. It was a continuation of a season of thankfulness for relationships that allow you to enjoy good conversation and hearty laughs (thank you Chelsa) over coffee, David's Tea, Frosted Flakes, and chili.

It makes me wish every day was full of rotating towels and sheets through the wash. Seriously. I like that kind of indication of a full season of life.


So, this morning, I took down the Christmas balls that were hanging in our window. I can look out at the mountains now. (Well, okay. The balls weren't like so big they were blocking a whole mountain range before. But kind of distracting).

I'll be moving on to another semester of school now... in which I am determined to try hard despite at times feeling even moreso like the old, pregnant lady I am. Thankfully, the pregnancy "glow" occasionally produces a few more skin blemishes (I hate to call them that ugly "z" word), so I might have a meaningful connection point with some of my young classmates. They'll enjoy that.


Stay tuned for a post in the near future... in which I will discuss some of my most favourite crafts of the season.


P.S. If you haven't seen it yet, check out the short post below :)

Miniature Bones.

Can there be any little thing more little-thing-ish than a fetal ultrasound?

Peace. 

Fabric & Elves.

And so we begin the last week of classes.
Which will lead into the last 10 days of final exams.

And where do I want to be?

At my sewing machine.
Or with a paintbrush in hand.
Or donned with an apron (And sweatpants. And a baggy t-shirt.), baking Christmas goodies.
Or surrounded by a small mountain of sharpie markers.

You see, I can honestly say I'm very happy with my life. I enjoy most parts of most days. Maybe even more than most parts.

But. There's just this one little thing I wish I had more time for.

Crafts.

Especially at this time of the year, I get so many ideas of things I want to make. Partly it's the inspiration of Christmas craft magazines. Partly it's that I just joined "Pinterest," which will knock your socks off with its DIY craft ideas. And partly, of course, it's that my alternative is studying for final exams.

Another reason I can't complain about my life is that I genuinely believe there are many more than one ways for me to be vocationally fulfilled. When I am at school or in front of a class, I know without a shadow of a doubt that I am born to be a teacher.

But, when I'm browsing in Michaels or sitting in front of a swath of colourful fabrics, I am also completely within my dreams.

Perhaps I have now jumped on a series of alternating years of teaching my heart out and crafting my heart out during nap time for little redheads...

Or, I suppose I could start a craft school.
Very similar to the North Pole, I would imagine. And, I mean, that's gone over well for as long as anyone can remember.