Walking in the Dark…

I took the dog for a long walk that ended up being in the dark last night. Apparently she doesn’t like to walk in the dark. I don’t mind. It’s cooler. The cars get annoying on certain parts of this walk, but that’s only at the very end. Most of it was fine, except I had to put her back on the leash, because she was way too interested in the bunnies, who were coming out with the waning light. I had spent all day with people, trying to get them to do work or listen to me, so it was nice to not have to talk to anyone. Just walk. Just look. Just listen to music. OK, I had to talk to the dog a few times. She gets nervous sometimes. If and when I’m ready to hike with other humans again, I will. For now, I need the silence.

Then I came home and I didn’t even sit down. I cooked from scratch and THEN I sat down. After food, I graded papers, because I’m so far behind. Again. Still. Hate that. Hate how it feels. But I tried to be efficient. It takes 2 1/2 hours for me to grade one medium-sized assignment. The Unit 1 journals that I’m grading at school? About 2 hours per period, so 10 hours. I had a couple people tell me that my job is not hourly, that it’s salaried, so I can’t complain about all the extra hours I do, but I know what salaried people get in terms of salary and perks, and I don’t get that. So it’s not OK. And I don’t get paid during the summer, which is hard. I work as a teacher almost every single night, every Sunday and many times Saturday, and almost every holiday. Sometimes the workload weighs on me so heavily, I wish I could be a barrista…just make coffee all day on my feet (I’m already on my feet all day) and then come home and slough off the job and not have to BE my job for another 3 or 4 hours.

Which is why the art is so important. It’s where I get that sense of peace that I need to get up the next morning and sometimes drag myself to school, to yet another meeting where they will take 90 minutes to say in one sentence what we want to hear: Yes, we will help this needy child by providing services. Holy god, yes. Say that more.

I ironed well last night…not long, just well. About an hour and 10 minutes on art…I ironed the more complicated heart in hands…

Oct 8 15 001 small

It had quite a few fabrics because the hands had fingers. What the fuck was I thinking? Simple? Not quite.

Oct 8 15 002 small

They’re ready to be cut out. Trying to decide if I’m going to take these to my stitching meeting tonight or just take grading.

Oct 8 15 003 small

Because either I’m going to grade there or I’m going to come home and grade. I can grade there and then come home and cut stuff out, or if I have enough energy, I can iron the last one, which is bigger and more complicated.

Then I did the owl…

Oct 8 15 004 small

I did three owls last year, but they were all the same pattern, just three different colorways. This is a different drawing.

Oct 8 15 005 small

We’ll see if he’s popular.

Oct 8 15 006 small

Kitten was in there the whole time, my inspiration for most of the cats in my quilts. Before her, it was Juniper, also a calico. Apparently I have a calico personality. Friendly, but a little feisty…known to bite or attack if provoked.

Oct 8 15 007 small

Here though she is kneading my batting into submission.

OK, another early start. Tomorrow is a field trip. I’d like to say I’m going to the gym tomorrow after school, but I suspect the field trip is gonna kick my ass and I’m going to come home and grade stuff until I can stand up again. At least this time I will have leftovers in the house if I need them.

One more to iron, and then I can start cutting them out. I’m hoping to be ironing them together next week.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.