Sharpie + Bored 6th Grader = Grumble

I have just left the laundry room. Not merely because the last of 5 loads of wash is now safely in the washer, not only because almost all the camping gear that was piled around the laundry room door is finally stowed in the garage and I can walk out of the laundry room, no even those milestones are insufficient to propel me to my blog when I should be getting into my jammies.

What brings me to you is . . . sharpies. Yes, that mainstay of moms making identifying marks on the belongings of their progeny has drawn me to write a bit.

You see, my darling daughter, generally a bright, well-adjusted, sensible, funny, and all around Good Kid came home the other day with a fetching sketch drawn on her favorite pair of yoga pants. Drawn with a sharpie. Yes, in-delible-deedy-do.

And what's a good mom to do? I broke out the prewash, both varieties. I sprayed the picture liberally, let it sit, and then washed it. Still there. I soaked it in isopropyl, which is rumored to break down the ink so it releases from the fibers. Only so-so results; the cloth around the drawing is immaculate, and likely free of any germs or viruses, but the sketch remains. I even scrubbed with a toothbrush to see if I could convince some of the ink to come out. Limited success with that plan as well.

I wonder how she got that bored that she had to draw on her clothes, and why ever in indelible ink? Asking her didn't help much; though she was aghast to learn that indelible really did mean in there for good.

I hope she likes the sketch she drew, it'll be there until the pants fall apart around it.

Face Off

I recently joined Facebook. I think, all in all, that this is a plus.

Let me elaborate. One by one, a selection of my buddies sent me a Facebook invitation. I avoided the invitations, not really intentionally, but because I hadn't found a really good picture of me to use as my Facebook pic. R-i-g-h-t. But that's my story and I'm sticking to it. Somewhere in the middle of August, I decided to take the plunge and set up an account.

Oh. My. Goodness.

I find my friend from homeroom in high school (who happens to be the sister of my first boyfriend). I find some stitching buddies who I don't get to see often, though I wish I could. I find some scrapbooking friends, and work friends, and more people I hung out with in high school and some of the parents from my daughter's school, and then I hook up with some more folk I know at work and now I have this HUGE list of friends and potential friends and friends-in-waiting. If this all sounds a little breathless, well, it is.

Now the Facebook pros will look at my list of friends and think it is paltry. And perhaps it is. But it is mine, and it gives me joy to think I know all these people and now can keep up with those who will post now and then, and can ping those who are too busy or harried. It is always a little painful to me to lose track of someone; I actually enjoy the yearly Christmas Newsletters I get from some of my friends (even if I don't know most of the people mentioned in it) just because I see what the folk I know are up to.

In some ways, this makes me a small town girl at heart. I don't live in a small town, by any means. I live in Los Angeles, the city that exemplifies the soulless and unconnected. With the Internet reaching everywhere, and sites like Facebook opening up social connections, people like me can start making those connections and forming their own small online "towns" with connections to the wider world.

Lately, Facebook has eaten time that could have been spent paying bills or washing dishes (or writing blog entries). I will get all this under control, I'm sure. (Well, if I don't I won't be posting anymore, will I?) But I will also be able to stop wondering what happened to...? Because I may be able to find them out in cyber space, among the friends of my friends.

And in the end, an essential part of balance is how you are connected. How you link to your support system, how you find your path, how you get by (with a little help from your friends).

A Small Thought Inspired by a Grass

My daughter Jessi and I walked over to a friend's house the other day to take care of their cats while they were on vacation. On the way, I noticed a house that I had never really seen before. It was one of those 80s modern remodels, quite nice really in a boxy sort of way. It had lots of windows (a requisite for my seal of appoval) and not so many funny angles that you wondered whether the thing was coming or going.

What struck me about the house was some of the ornamental grasses that had become overgrown. OK, living in California it is pretty easy to have this happen. I'm not even sure what one does to keep these under control, having never trimmed one myself. But it did seem to me a comment on the optimism everyone has when they see plans that align with their vision of the cosmic all. We don't ask, "How do I keep this up so it looks good in 10 years?" We say "Wow, that looks so cool!"

And I think a part of balance is learning to ask how we trim our ornamental gresses. How much TLC does a hobby or accessory or whatever take, and can we spare the time to give it the attention it needs to really thrive and add value to our lives?

New Balance, Sort Of

So I'm looking at the last post, thinking that 8 or 9 months between posts is really too long.

Means I'm out of balance, yes? Yup.

But in this time I finished my 2008 photo album and have sorted out 2001 so I can get it all down in the album, and write a bit about what was happening then. I have a little notebook where I wrote things down; I stopped writing in it around 2002, but I did put a lot of stuff in there from before.

I finisthed a lace knitted shawl, you can see it in my Ravelry project list, and get there from my "Blog with Me" links.

I started a nice little "Bee Welcome" sign from Bird Brain Designs, felted wool and embroidery.

And found time to camp with our scouts, do school projects with Jessi, work and just hang out.

Not a lot of balance, I guess, at least not in that quiet Zen way of thinking. But definitely a lot of fun.