Restart

So the studio is relatively clean, in that the piles of fabric are put away (well, mostly…it gets harder and harder to find room for them sometimes). I straightened up some of the chaotic piles that live and breed in here. I even threw out a bunch of school stuff that I will never use, but felt guilty about, because the district was so psychotic about it 5 years ago, and now have dropped it almost completely. It’s not like I was going to read through those silly pieces of paper again anyway. I should remember that after the next PD (which, whoops, is today…and which I don’t want to go to, because none of the courses are really something I need, and they don’t interest me either). As everything flips online anyway, I don’t need as many samples of what kids might have done…or if I do, they are online and I should save those. I tried to do that last year too…save examples of each assignment where students might need that. Although often if you give them an example, they just try to copy it. So maybe it’s better to throw them in cold.

The studio got cleaned in the middle of a smallish copyediting job…small in that it wasn’t a lot of words or work, but it was significant to me because it was my first in many years, since I started teaching basically, and it was also online for the first time for me. I was worried, but it was easy. My brain knows exactly what to do when I edit. It took about 30 seconds for that editor brain to kick in and start a style sheet. So that was good. And I even now have an Excel spreadsheet for invoices (in the old days, I had no such thing). I started with the next number on the list, 283. So yeah. I wrote 282 invoices for Harcourt/Elsevier when I worked for them…usually 2-3 per book, depending on the length. I think I figured at one point that I had worked on over 65 books. Anyway, the job wasn’t easy, but it also wasn’t hard…just time-consuming and eyeball-straining. I actually liked the ability to use technology to make the job easier…searching for corrections that needed to be made throughout the manuscript was a piece of cake.

So hopefully there will be more of those. Grades are due Tuesday. I input a lot of stuff Friday night, but I still need to finalize the actual progress-report grade with effort and behavior grades and comments if I have time for those. Some day we will be allowed to write our own comments. This system doesn’t allow it. My last school district allowed teachers to write 3 or 4 of their own comments, although “lazy butt” is generally still frowned upon, as is “can’t think for himself” and “please don’t send sugar with your child” or “why do you let them stay up all night playing video games?”. So it might not be particularly useful if I can’t write what I really think. Or sometimes, honestly, “I think your kid is awesome and you did a great job raising them. Thank you.” No really. There are some of those.

So last night, after all the school stuff that I wanted to do was done (well, plus some I didn’t want to do, but did anyway), I finally managed to touch fabric without the purpose being to put it away.

Oct 5 15 001 small

Look! It’s fabric being chosen for a tiny cat quilt! Oh yes. Finally. I drew these all in what…June? July? Numbered them all. You know, it’s funny. I have an app for that. Seriously. I use a task-managing app to keep track of how much time I spend on stuff, including writing and copyediting. It makes life so much easier. So I numbered all the little quilts in early July. And then I traced the Wonder Under in early July as well. I cut it all out around mid-July. And then I put them in a box and squirreled them away until now, because two giant projects jumped the line. Which is fine. It may actually make more sense in terms of being able to sell these to finish them in October, with Christmas and other gift-giving holidays just around the corner. So I’m OK with it.

And yes, I only finished picking fabrics for one last night. I was significantly tired from the weekend and working so many hours. It’s not physical, but it’s mentally draining. My brain starts to rebel and wants some art and movies and comic books and whatever else it can get besides more workity work work. So it is an incredible relief to turn around to the ironing board, flick the iron on, and start climbing around on the floor looking for the perfect pink for a cat’s nose. I’m hoping to do more of that tonight, but I have an art-related meeting after school and then grades still have to be finished. If I’m incredibly efficient, I might get it done during my prep period, but I’m remembering that my before- and after-school duty starts this week (giant Ugh Sigh), so I will have to be remarkably efficient to make sure each day that I’m ready for the next. I hate duty. I really do. And there’s some chance of rain today during that as well…which is good for San Diego, but bad for my lack of dampness. It also means I need to make an attempt to leave earlier for school each day, because on my regular schedule, I will have a whopping ten minutes to pee and set up my classroom for 1st AND 2nd period, and that sounds like an issue to me. Damn. I hate this.

But…art has restarted and that’s a good thing. I know. I took a week off. Sort of. Finished one on Monday, September 29…then cleaned up all week…and started the next one on Sunday, October 4. That IS a long break for me actually. How did I manage no art all those days? No wonder I’ve been cranky. Remember that. Shit, I know that. It just wasn’t in the cards those days.

Fight Uterus. Teach Illness. Stitch Legs.

Aargh. I’m working my butt off at the moment, between my job and my art. It’s good, because I’m getting stuff done, but it’s bad, because it feels like that’s all I do. Yesterday, I worked at school from 8-4:15, then came home and worked another 2 1/2 hours on grading. Then I stitched stuff down for another hour. That’s not really balance, is it. Girlchild is on a rant of huge proportions about college apps. I irritate her just by existing at the moment. Hell, sometimes I irritate myself just by existing. The house is still a freakin’ disaster because of days like yesterday, where the only house-related thing I achieved was to divest the girlchild’s bathroom of all empty shampoo containers and to pack up the door handle that we decided I didn’t need, so I can take it back to Home Debit. I know I have the receipt. Now I just need to find it.

And everything hurts. Girl parts are vengeful in some way. They behave for days at a time, and then they screech at you like the world is ending and they’re on fire. Imagine trying to stand all day in front of a herd of middle-school kids while your uterus contracts, doing its JOB (structure and function, the basis of what I teach), and the kids are whining because they have been sitting too long (10 minutes) in front of a computer that isn’t GIVING them answers like their teacher used to do (really, it was easier for them, wasn’t it? OK, I was never the answer-giving teacher though), and I’m getting irritated because someone has forgotten their password for the 17th time and they didn’t write it down and I have to try to reset it, which is a pain in the ass, while trying to make sure Jimmy and Johnny don’t play Angry Birds all period (I have an app that watches all their screens, but I have to watch the app…although honestly, if you just PRETEND to walk around with a tablet that has the app on it, it doesn’t really matter; they assume you’re watching them. Very amusing) all the while yelling “Key Words, People! Key Words! because they don’t know how to figure anything out)…and meanwhile, my uterus is trying to win some muscle contest, almost killing me in the process. Yes, you’re an efficient little beast, my dear organ of reproduction, but it seems like you hold it against me when I don’t use you for your intended purpose. Let me make it clear. More babies? Not happening. So get over yourself and behave like the adult you are. You don’t really want to go through that whole babymaking thing again. You just think you do. Get over it.

All that. And art too. I made this pact that I was going to draw once a week, every week, and then I forgot to put it on the calendar, so I missed it last week, so I put it on again for Sunday night, and it still didn’t happen, so now it’s calendared for every Friday night, and its name is Draw Dammit. Hopefully I’ll continue that. If the calendar yells at me. I need an owl…the Hogwart’s owls that dropped those screaming letters…hey, I just Googled “harry potter screaming letter owl” and got what I needed…they’re called Howlers and when you open the envelope, it howls at you until it’s done, and then it erupts into flames. That’s what I need. One of those every Friday night. I love Google by the way.

Meanwhile? Stitching down…

Oct 20 14 006 small

I’m 3 hours in (see the cat behind the machine? Annoying.). All that’s left is the man’s legs and head, half a bird, and all the stuff in the tree: probably two more hours, honestly, so I really should be able to finish pinbasting by Saturday night. I should check the stash of batting…I think I have a piece big enough. God knows I have enough bits and pieces.

So Sunday night (no, I didn’t post Sunday night or Monday…too tired still), I had this cat in the drawers…

Oct 20 14 003 small

She chose green. I didn’t want to clean up all the fabrics until I finished ironing everything down, which I have now down, but now I just don’t feel like cleaning, which is unfortunate, because this room is a disaster at the moment.

Then I had this cat on the ironing board…

Oct 20 14 004 small

Which IS clean at the moment (a brief lapse on my part). They don’t like each other (actually girlchild is just to the right of this picture, because she was ALSO in here, but she’s not a bitchy cat)…and at some point, they realized they were in the room together (hey, can you see the big pile of batting on the shelf up near the top? That’s all SMALL pieces, because I MAKE SMALL pieces? No, because I’m a hoarder. Not a bad hoarder…just a minor one. I do go through the pile and toss pieces that would only work if I made quilted postcards, which I don’t.

Yes, my brain is rambling all over the fucking place, because my UTERUS is contracting like a bitch and I can’t think straight. But I am going to go to school and teach middle schoolers about respiratory illnesses today, and if some kid whines about ANYTHING, a demon will rise from my mouth and devour them, and then all the other kids will be silent workers for the rest of the period. Right?

So here are the two cats (and all the mess)…hissing at each other.

Oct 20 14 005 small

Because I need more drama? To their credit, mostly they avoid each other. Midnight (the lower cat) is a sweetie. Babygirl has channeled Satan.

I have lots of pictures of Babygirl, because she inhabits my office/studio, which is where I am most nights at some point or another, usually after 10 PM. So when normal people are going to bed, I’m moving to the work area to keep going. Sometimes she appears quite sweet and adorable…

Oct 17 14 001 small

which I think is how she reels in prey…like my teenaged son.

Oct 20 14 001 small

If you don’t feed her fast enough, she whacks you with her paw, claws extended.

And the cats are the reason I always pile my quilt top up on the machine…

Oct 20 14 009 small

So they can’t lie on it. Because they will. It’s not a very exciting thing to write about at the moment, stitching down. Pretty much, I turn Star Trek on really loud and adjust the zigzag and drop the feed dogs, and go around every single piece. My brain spends most of its time trying to figure out what Picard said and where to stitch next without having to restitch over what I’ve already stitched. Add in the psychotic machinations of my uterus, and it’s just fun fun fun all around. And the mood that comes along with the uterine games? Yeah. It’s not good. Whatever.

Seriously. This stage will be done soon and I’ll be on to the quilting. I have to get caught up with work too, though, because Houston is next week and that’s going to mess with my workload a bit. And grades are due a week after I get back. And I have a show to take down and a bunch of other stuff to deal with. Buried is an understatement. One day at a time. Today? Fight uterus. Teach illness. Stitch legs.