My Aspiration to be a Scrapbooker - Too Pie in the Sky?

When I envision my perfect self, which is (at the moment) easy to do because I'm sitting in my house which has (a) been cleaned today and (b) is currently neat and organized (i.e. no messy piles of anything lying around), I see myself as of a highly productive producer of projects, channeling the grace and nimbleness of a Martha Stewart.

If you have read some of my blogs, you may believe I often channel the likes of Martha - just stop to consider the re-covered living room chairs, the gardening, the trip to Mary Jo's Fabric Shop, the drapes, the whole chicken (which I did take out of the freezer, but haven't cooked yet - my twitter friend didn't tell me how long it needed to cook, so we're back to square one essentially). One might observe these domestic projects and say, "wow...you sure have it together. You are the living image of a domestic goddess, pure tranquility." Cue the birds and harp.

My approach to projects does not conjure up such images of birds, harps and tranquility - instead it's more of a stumbling, clumsy approach, knowing that sooner or later, I am going to start bleeding, sobbing or talking to myself - none of which would make me the ideal Martha, although I might fit right in on a reality tv show. There's always going to be something that occurs, such as the fan I purchased that came packaged with the wrong part (twice - seriously, I swear this happened) or the self-rising flour gets used instead of the regular flour or fill in the blank - it's like Mad Libs over here.

But back to my point, when I think about my perfect life - I envision one project above all other projects - the SCRAPBOOK (using my Barbara Walter voice for hushed emphasis). Scrapbooking to me is the epitome of "you have it together."

Organizing photographs among color coordinated paper and neat stickers - hard edges that are completely straight, no jagged cutting (and no paper cuts). Photos aligned both horizontally and vertically to perfection - that is it, perfection. That is true perfection to me.

I'm an organizer at heart, but I have to have the time and stamina. On a Christmas break from college, I took letters, mementos and photos from my childhood (ages 0-18) and sorted them, organized them and archived them in letter boxes. It took two days, but I did it. That is a glimpse of how organized I used to be or maybe, just how bored.

I walked into Micheal's the other day and was suddenly overcome by the desire to scrapbook - it was as though I had inhaled the aroma of the silk flowers and was just carried away by a primal need to do some crafts. As I walked up and down the aisles looking for a desk organizer, I found myself smack dab in the mecca of scrapbooking (unless you count a precious memories party). It was the scrapbooking aisle - all the tools were right there, the stickers, the pens, the scissors, the paper and the organizer systems! I was in pure bliss...for about 10 seconds and then I started sweating, waves of inadequacy fell over me. I had to scoot on out of there. I'm only a wanna-be! Geez, this is starting to seem like a daily occurrence.

Don't get me wrong, I did a great job scrapbooking when I was growing up - my great grandfather was a printer and was a good source of sample books from stationery companies. My mom told me that when she was growing up, she and her cousin would take those books, rip out the samples and then turn the bound, empty book with its thick, rich pages into the foundation for a great scrapbook. I can remember flipping through some of my mom's scrap books of her trips with my dad - Greece, Turkey, California graced the perfect black pages with my parents and scenery of the world's seven wonders staring back at me.

So I took the inspiration, got my own sample book from my great grandfather, ripped out wedding invitation upon wedding invitation, and created my own scrapbook - I think it spanned from 1986-1987, a banner year. I had pictures from New York, several trips to UNC football games, a zoo trip, trips to the North Carolina mountains and some neighborhood pictures - I was busy with my LeCliq camera, a little too busy after taking three rolls of film at the state zoo - my parents cut me off (I was a passionate child). I can also recall a Disney World scrapbook, a Hurricane Hugo scrapbook (one for the archives, complete with weather reports) and multiple high school scrapbooks.

I even continued to make the occasional scrapbook in college, cataloguing my study abroad semester in France. But, that's about where it ended. Since then, there have been several failed attempts at scrapbooking.

There was my trip in graduate school to Europe. I planned to create a scrapbook - I collected lots of trinkets, matchbook covers, brochures, and so on - all the time thinking,"this will be perfect for my scrapbook," going above and beyond to make sure I had everything I needed. You have to plan in advance for these sort of things. Stored them up in a folder, which I labeled "scrapbook." That's as far as that got.

I remember packing that scrapbook folder up when I moved from Chicago. Then I packed it up when I moved out of my apartment in Charlotte, encountering it when I moved out of my condo in Charlotte...all the while, taunting me like a misspelled word. Sitting on my list of to dos for almost eight years, never getting checked off - and I hate not checking something off my to do list! I finally moved it into storage, thus simultaneously removing it from the list of things to do permanently (or at least until it resurfaces to mock me).

Then there was a scrapbook I was going to make for a friend's wedding - I collected lots of little mementos from her girl's weekend in New York. This time I bought a scrapbook that was color coordinated to her wedding palette, along with some cute city stickers. Where is it now? Under the bed in the spare room where I sit right this moment. Maybe I'll make it for her second anniversary. And, the most aggressive scrapbook of them all - my wedding/honeymoon. I bought the super fancy scrapbook for that, complete with lettering, stickers AND an extra pack of pages. I thought, "I'll just throw some money at this thing and that will motivate me." Nope.

So there it sits, right beside the other failed attempt, if you can even call buying supplies an attempt (to be fair, I guess you could). At least it's out of sight, out of mind. And now, these photo websites have their own photo books - let me tell you - those are just as much work as the real deal. I started to make one for my parents, but gave up after hours had passed and I was still on the first page. But, I made sure to save it for good measure.

One day I will get to these scrapbooks, I'm sure of it. I know that it's worth it -- I can remember how much I loved to look at my mom's, imagining her life before she had me, which is hard to conceive when you are that young. But I had so much fun, flipping through those pages again and again. I hope that I will have more than just my tween and high school years available for my children to peruse (let's face it, the tween years are really those awkward years that are best not remembered too much). But let's be honest, if I don't get to these things before I have said children, it really will be just a pie in the sky kind of idea.

Send a Message to the Universe, the Universe Tweets Back

A few months ago, I happened to get signed up to receive emails from EarthFare, an organic-type grocery store, based in Asheville, but with a store right here in town. It is one of those stores filled with beautiful produce displayed ever so attractively next to trays filled with fresh samples, you can't help but go for an impulse tomato or avocado purchase.

So one day, a note pops up in my inbox, telling me I need to sign up for a free dinner for four. Attracted by the word free like a moth to the flame (aren't we all, even after reading Predictable Irrational), I clicked on the link, which took me to a page that told me I had to sign up to qualify for my free meal. I thought, "that is probably just for a chance to win a dinner for four," and I closed the browser and forgot about it. A few days later, I get a little friendly reminder, being a bit more specific (good refinement due to some customer feedback, I'm sure). So, I decide a dinner for four is enough to make me register on the EarthFare website, which is actually quite pleasant, I must say.

I print my coupon and it tells me that within a week, I can redeem it for a whole chicken or veggie burgers, a pack of carrots and mashed potatoes. I wasn't sure if I would actually get around to redeeming the thing, but then realized I had an appointment at a salon over there during the redemption period. However, I was a little concerned about the "dinner for four" menu - carrots, potatoes (hello CARBS!) and a whole chicken - that's right, a WHOLE chicken. I started to feel like I was back in Mary Jo's fabric store again. I cook and all (both with and without recipes), but I never have attempted something so technical like a whole chicken!

Since I was over there, I decided it made sense to stop over at EarthFare and pick up a few things, after I could check out this stuff and get it if I wanted, it was "free." I had to spend $10 to qualify for the deal, but that is never a problem with a few bourbon salmon slices for me and the hubby, not to mention seltzer water and some other items I have to get every time I'm there, like stuffed grape leaves (seriously, those are delicious).

I casually lurk around the meat department, trying to figure out where the whole chickens might live. Well, I think I did actually decide to jump ship at one point and go for the veggie burgers - but they only had the soy burgers and some kind of nut burger that looked dubious. Black bean burgers were sold out. So, I was too late for the mainstream veggie burgers - it was the chicken or nothing. I'm sure lots of folks like me had that same idea.

While I was picking up my salmon, a couple was inquiring about the chicken to the guy behind the meat counter. "They are so easy," he said. Good thing I wasn't over there - I was good listening about it from my comfort zone by the seafood counter. I casually stared as he took them to the place where the chickens were.

With fish in hand, I moved slowly toward the section with the chickens - oh, there are the seltzers...I eventually got there. Even though I had been over there previously (yes, I admit it), I had evidently missed the huge signs that said, "get your chickens for you free dinner for four right here" in big, bold lettering. I swear retailers, when people are in the supermarket, particularly after the work, they are zoned out and the last thing they are doing is reading anything! I don't even think blinking lights and a leprechaun beside a pot of gold would help people figure out where the free chickens were.

I picked up the chicken and stared it down, straight in the eye. I just wasn't too sure about this chicken - Complete disaster? An instant throw-away? I envisioned myself trying to cook this thing and saw myself starting a project I wasn't sure I could finish - it MIGHT have brought back memories of hanging the drapes in the living room.

I took the plunge. I can do this. I have watched the episode of America's Test Kitchen on cooking the perfect chicken, granted I didn't have all the fancy cooking accessories needed, but I figured that I could do this.

So when I got home, I decided I would tweet about my chicken, which I should mention I put immediately in the freezer as a good procrastination measure.

My post: Picked up my free dinner from @EarthFare today - mashed potatoes, carrots, whole chicken. Nice! Unsure abt cooking that bird - in freezer.

Translated, that's "Hey EarthFare! What's up? I redeemed my free dinner - that was pretty cool. However, I have no idea how I'm going to cook that thing! OMG! This is a thinly veiled call for help!"

Minutes later, @EarthFare sends a note out to the world wide web, the universe of all things, responding to someone else tweeting about their free meal. The post: @akseabird Yum! So glad! How did you cook your chicken? @TarheelConway is looking for tips :)

And just like that, I was saved by @akseabird - who responded to me. Her post: @EarthFare Roasted it w/the carrots. 400F. Inside: fresh basil, rosemary & garlic. Outside: same +salt, garlic pwd, & dill (@TarheelConway).

How cool! Now I had the recipe and I could move forward with my chicken. And, to top it off, it seemed so simple and easy.

My cry for help out into the great beyond had been answered. It really felt like my first time (be it small) interacting over Twitter, having a real interaction. Have no idea who she is, where she lives, but sounds like she knows her stuff. I know it sounds silly, but I interact all the time with friends on Facebook - Twitter just seems so business, newsy, closed-off - I haven't gotten to the point where I've really been able to use it this way. And, it was just so dern nice of her to add me to her tip!

I am going to take that chicken out of the freezer this weekend and give it a try. I hope it turns out well, and I plan to throw those carrots in there, along with some other stuff. I do love to cook, and am not afraid to go off a recipe (in fact, that's why I'm good at cooking and not baking) and throw caution to the wind, do not get me wrong. It's just a whole bird seemed like something out of my league, taking it up a notch! But, I think I'm ready now.

Who knows, maybe my next step is making real, homemade pie crust! Or better yet, real, homemade chicken pot pie, honey!

As the Page Turns - Au Revoir to Mes Livres de Papitre

I have loved books from a very early age. One day, I remember it ever so clearly, I was reading a very thick book out loud to my dad, possibly about the adventures of farm animals. I am not sure how young I was and since I don't have children yet, I have no sense of scale when children start reading on their own. However, he abruptly interrupted me and said something to the effect of, "you are old enough to read to yourself now - in your mind," followed by him getting up and walking out of my bedroom. I'm sure that my dad was really saying, "That's it - I can't take any more - get me out of here!" after sitting on my bed, lost in my hundreds of stuffed animals, trying not to fall asleep listening to me read for night upon night. I was left dumbstruck - probably by the end to the attention, but also by the fact that I needed to read to myself? in my head? That didn't seem as much fun. Although, I probably just shrugged and kept on reading.

Another memorable moment was reading "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe" in second grade - I was so proud, bragging to lots of parental types. Not sure if that is really an achievement now, "kids are sooo smart these days," (rolling eyes, although I'm sure I'll say this about my child too - I swear with all the geniuses running around, why are we worried about the national debt in 20 years!?!) but back then it seemed like something.

Over the years, I've turned into a bit of a speed reader. I tend to skim over some parts that I find either boring or irrelevant, or when I desperately need to find out how something is going to turn out. I never skip full pages or anything, just speed through dialogue that I judge to be unimportant to the plot at hand. What's completely ironic is how lengthy my blog posts get - I hope someone out there has more patience than me to read these long diatribes (and enjoy them too). Although, I take great pleasure in writing them. Perhaps that's a sign - better writer, than reader.

And like any "writer," I abhor poorly, written prose with flat, undeveloped characters or plots that are disjointed or non-sensical. But, I'm not always a critic - it is rare that I encounter a book I absolutely loathe, and like a witch in a fairy tale who has been cursed, I absolutely must finish any book I start. I learned to be a bit more choosey after picking up one of the Mitford series books that my 70-year-old grandmother, at the time, raved about. The raving part should have been a hint. I was in my early 20s - let's just say I was not the target audience for this read.

I am probably half book snob/half book tabloid (or better yet, "book Us Weekly"). Sometimes you just need a "good beach read," which is a nice southern way of saying "a book that lacks depth and intellect; that doesn't require a lot of brain power to read;" kind of like reading a tabloid or watching mindless reality tv, which depending on the topic, can be just as relaxing. These are the types of books I can fly through two at a time, given enough spare time and the perfect 12-hour beach day weather.

Two years ago, my husband tried to get me to cheat on my books - he proclaimed that I was a "loud page-turner" at night, and didn't I want one of those new Kindles for Christmas 2009? Like an old curmudgeon, I was repulsed - I could never give up my books - never! (I'm dramatic, at times, so I'm sure I threw an extra one in for emphasis). I love the feel of the paper in my hands, the turn of the page, the weight of the book (or the cramping in my arm as I try to hold the book with one arm), how could I possibly give that up?

Well, I haven't written my post on all of my personal "rules" yet, but let me tell you that "never say never," is right at the top. When these words roll right off the tip of my tounge, people should start taking bets on when I am going to contradict myself, because the moment is not too far off.

Weeks go by and I hear from my sister-in-law (to be) about how great her Kindle is - she basically gave me a testimonal and how to use it pitch that hit me just at the right time - it was like the perfect storm for the Kindle marketer. I had finished up the "Girl Who Played with Fire" and had to order the next installment. The suspense was killing me (did I mention I read the first book in about three days?). I wish it weren't so dern cheaper online - and of course, I like to get the free shipping because it usually comes just as quickly, but I was sweating like a drug addict waiting for this one - and it finally arrived via the USPS. But, I still wasn't sure I was ready to say goodbye to books though, so this indecisiveness ended the deal. I cherished the stack of books I had by my bed, collecting dust, but waiting to be read, to be shared, to be loved - too much.

About a year passed and thoughts about that Kindle would come in and out of my mind like humming a catchy song - thoughts about how easy it would be just to download a book and start reading whenever I wanted. Soon, one of my best friends visited from Nashville and her Kindle peaked out at me from her purse when I picked her up at the airport - sneaky little devil (if it had been in a blue case, that would have been cute). It had a really pretty green leather case - it seemed so neat and organized - with a strap that kept it closed. She handed it to me, like Adam handing an apple over to our girl Eve. I tenatively accepted, absorbing the look of the e-ink, the buttons, the page clicks. I started to want one, really, really bad.

Soon after, I began dropping subtle hints to my husband, such as "I wish I had gotten that Kindle last year." He countered, "but you said you didn't want it." To which I replied smartly, "well, I've changed my mind." Hint taken - although not without a little trickery. On Christmas Eve (this occured on the way home from the tailgate), my husband announces he just has to go into Target and I can't tag along - he had a sketchy look going on - as if he was going to be in the doghouse. I naturally assumed he had forgotten my gift, and that I was going to end up with a Target gift card - practical yes, but not what a new wife wants from her hubby at Christmas. Plus, I really wanted that Kindle. He continued to play into my belief - making me more and more of a grump (or there's probably a more accurate word).

After getting home and as I'm wrapping up the last of the presents in a huff (infusing delightful holiday wishes into every wrapped present, I'm sure), he appears with card and gift in hand - but it wasn't a gift card as I had braced myself to receive graciously (of course) - it was a brand new Kindle. Cue the music and excitement, and the hand clasping, "a Kindle of my own!"

I still feel guilty about abandoning my old friends, but I must say that my e-friends are just as great. I don't lose my place and I can order more any time I want. So simple and easy. And, I think my brain is used to the e-ink and the slight flash of the screen that occurs as you turn a page.

I'm almost certain now that books will be a thing of the past, and this makes me nostalgic. I'm sure I was supposed to be one of those few who fought for books, who kept buying them because it was the right thing to do - to keep them alive, to keep them real. I fear the day when children will be brought into this world without paper books, never knowing the sensation of turning the page. I wonder if that phrase will even lose meaning (although we still say roll down the window when we're in a car)...

I also fear that I am in so deep with my Kindle now, with the compactness and convenience of it all, that I have strayed too far away from the paper book world I loved. I find myself annoyed with the "old fashioned" paper books - trying to finish them as soon as possible so I can get back to all the titles waiting for me on the Kindle - I may have gone a little crazy ordering books when I first got it - this may take a while. But, I know that old habits die hard and I can never truly convert 100 percent forever (oh no, did I just use the word "never"? Maybe my use of "forever" cancels that out). There are still those books, those masterpieces that require paper - book in hand, page turning (making noise, waking up spouse) and mind smiling.

What Doesn't Kill You...

May drive you insane. For the past week and half, I have launched a fairly aggressive amount of household improvements, with the gracious help (and counseling) of my husband. Right now, I have just "taken a break" for a moment. I'll set the stage for you - I'm recovering our set of four dining room chairs - sounds simple enough, right? I am on chair number four. Said chair has always been the troublemaker chair, ever since we inherited the set from my sister-in-law.

But I digress, what is wrong with the chair in question you may ask? Well, it has a major stain covering most of the fabric. Two to three years ago when we got these chairs, I do remember someone saying, "oh there's that stain, but you can just recover them, the fabric needs to be modernized anyway" So easy...sigh...oh yes, if only things in my world were just that easy.

Chair one was by far the easiest - a cruel twist of fate. Halfway into chair two, the staple gun broke - which created a major meltdown - my meltdowns do not happen often (except for this week) and they usually involve tears, blood (as a result of accidental scratches from tools or furniture) and making angry voices or grunts at inanimate objects - "Why are you so stubborn wall? I hate you screw - go into the wall! Crap, I stripped this screw, get out of the wall! I know said I go in, but now I'm telling you to GET OUT!!!!" Those were actually examples from another project, called "try to hang four curtain rods in very tight corners and right where studs are in the living room." There won't be an encore performance of that one - the curtain has set, so to speak.

My husband took the staple gun and was determined to beat it. He spent about 20 minutes fixing the staple gun after I banished myself to the bedroom to chill out. After the staple gun started working again, I quickly finished up chair two and moved on to chair three. So, that brings me to good old chair four. Just so you know, it is still sitting on the floor with it's bottom-side up and I swear it is smirking at me, even from the next room over.

I am angry with this chair for a few reasons (1) it is missing one of the four screws at the bottom to begin with, which made me feel happy at first (oh, so nice, I only have to deal with three screws), but then I thought, I really could use all the screws because (2) one of the screws is stripped and will not come out and (3) this is the last chair and (4) did I mention that this was the last chair?!? So, I have commenced yoga breathing and have walked away, although it continues to mock me. I can see you chair four!

This was the last chair (and the very last task) in the home improvement maddness in which I have participated over the past eight to ten days. What else have I (better say we) done - let's see -- hung four sets of rods and drapes in the living room (and now as previously noted, I know why the former owners didn't ever attempt this), hung pictures from our wedding throughout the house, hung a new bulletin board, rearraged a bedroom, hung rod and drapes in kitchen, hung drapes in bedroom, and so on. Did I mention the yard - planted flowers upon flowers, potted and in beds and I'm telling you, it better not freeze! Those pansies better like the cold, dang it!

And today, after all this stress on my body, on my mind, was the very last thing - recovering the chairs. The whole concept got me completely out of my comfort zone, and I had even placed a "?" beside it on my list of things to do. I can install an anchor in the wall just fine, but sewing or anything in the sewing family? I have no clue. I cannot even sew on a button - I know, I know. It ranks up there on things I should know how to do, such as calculate tip without a tip card (I don't like to do math, it's not that I can't do it! I just prefer to use the card for accuracy!).

I decided to go to Mary Jo's cloth store and before I even walked in there, I was feeling uneasy and intimidated. I have no idea what type of fabric I need to recover these chairs and if there's anything I absolutely hate, it is looking like I have no idea and saying something (or doing something) foolish to a bunch of experts.

I walked in and casually strolled around the store. "Will someone help me?," I thought. "Someone better help me because I have NO idea what I'm doing." Trying to look like I know what I'm doing. I decide I'll start with silks - I see dozens of colors, no beige. Ah ha, sign points to beige and white silks are in the corner.

I walk over there, dragging the chair seat I brought with me. I browse around the fabrics. $25 a yard. "Hmmm...is that expensive," I wonder? Aphrension looms over me, along with indecisiveness. This seems wrong. I called my best friend, who had been here earlier to see if she could give me the scoop on how this worked - voicemail. Women, who seemed to know exactly the yardage and type of fabric they needed, were teeming all over the store. I tried not to look panicked. I considered abandoning ship, but I was all the way in Gastonia, for crying out loud. Determination hit me - I have got to find a salesperson, someone has got to help me.

Apparently, I was in the bridal section, which might explain the $25/yard fabrics, which I later learned was probably really expensive compared to what I need. A sign that said "upholstery" caught my eye and I decided I better move over there. Before I started crying "mayday mayday," I finally found a salesperson to ask how in the world this place works.

I find a fabric I like, get one of the teenage guys to bring it over to a cutting station for me, and they tell me I've got the wrong kind of fabric. I felt like I wanted to cry - now I look like an idiot. I don't know what I'm doing and at this point, I made sure that was clear. Fortunately, the saleswoman was extremely helpful and the panic welling up in my throat subsided. She took me back to the stacks and we found a better suited fabric for the chairs. She took measurements, she made cuts. I had what I needed. Relief. Now get me out! I don't like being out of my element, but I told myself, this was a growing experience. Just as every project my husband and I ticked of the list of things we've been meaning to do for the past two to three years (in a week and half) was a growing experience.

Did it make me stronger? Well, that dern chair four is still sitting on the floor. It's probably the 100th hurdle I've had to face in the past eight to ten days and I'm simply exhausted. I'm waiting for my husband to get home and maybe he can win the battle for me. He's been my steady rock along the way, not letting me quit. So, I won't quit tonight, but I think I'm done with projects for another two to three years. I think I'm good with the "strength" I've gained from this exercise.

Update: Hubby got home, asked what's up and I told him about chair four. He came in and saved the day for the second time, by ripping that baby out! Take that chair four!