sew productive.
19 FebIt was a super productive weekend at the sewing machine in the ROG parsonage this weekend. [One could say that I was a sewing machine. Pity laugh?] The craft room has been a bit neglected lately, but I made up for it this weekend. Using the clearance cloth napkins I bought at Target last weekend and the pillow forms I found for 60% off at JoAnn’s, I made four throw pillows. [I did not make the middle one. I made the others to match … but I did buy the middle one on clearance.] As I’ve been shopping around for household items, I’ve been grossed out by how expensive throw pillows are and that is why I’ve had none for the last six months. I figure mine came together for about $9/piece and roughly 15 minutes to sew each. And then I made a curtain for the upstairs balcony door.
Saturday was a fun fabric day. First, Amanda – my new friend from Owatonna who is an intern there this year – and I traveled south to the Calico Hutch. The Calico Hutch, in Hayward, is what the ladies would call the best quilt shop around. Amanda was looking to embark on her first quilting project and I have a baby quilt in my future. [A baby quilt. Not a baby. Just to clarify.] We both found what we were looking for and then had a mini-sewing machine tutorial at the dining room table while eating the new lemon girl scout cookies.
Yesterday, The Practical Guide to Patchwork arrived in my mailbox from Amazon. It’s a book by the blogger/quilter at Oh, Fransson [one of the blogs that made me want to learn to quilt in the first place] and I’m in love. I’ve already learned a few tidbits [when prewashing fabric, take it out of the dryer when it’s still a little damp and iron immediately. a world of difference!] and while I don’t know if I’ll tackle any of the quilt patterns from the book any time soon, I think it was a sound purchase. Plus, it’s pretty. Sometimes I just pick it up to stare at it and pet the cover.
This afternoon the fabrics on my cutting mat met their match. I dedicated my entire afternoon to the craft room and have 18 quilt squares to show for it. Two to go and then the sashing will begin.
There is still a pile of more projects in the sewing room. I want to construct a few of these fabric bins [and have already purchased the supplies] and I still need curtains for one of my bedroom windows. Maybe a table runner. And I need to finish my summer quilt. All in good time, my friends. All in good time.
long-distance relationships.
18 FebYou well know that Brentt [hair stylist] and I have been doing things long distance the last couple month. [The I-call-him-when-I-need-him-sort-of-thing.]
Well, as anyone who has been in a long-distance relationship [with their hair stylist] can attest, it’s hard. It’s really hard. I’m beginning to understand why long distance simply doesn’t work [for my head of hair]. It’s hard to find the time to dedicate going to visit him and … well …
I cheated on him. On Thursday, I had a date [an appointment] with someone else. It was closer and more convenient. Don’t give me that look – I wasn’t happy about it either.
I regret it already.
First of all, it wasn’t nearly as welcoming or awesome as Brentt. I walked in and no one – NO ONE – said a word to me. So I just sat down in the waiting area and waited for them to acknowledge me. I was not offered coffee [Apparently every other customer was offered coffee. I probably wouldn’t have drank it anyways. Dumb coffee at the stupid salon.] and I was told to take off my coat … but wasn’t directed where to put it. [When I have dates, err, appointments with Brent, my coat is always whisked away and then he helps me put it back on at the end of our time together.]
And Brentt. Oh, Brentt. He’s such a good listener [about the kind of cut I want]. On Thursday, I wasn’t listened to at all. I told her I liked my hair big. Five minutes later, she’s telling me that way she’s going to cut my hair will minimize the big-ness of short curly hair. And Brentt takes the towel and dries the inside of my ears. sigh I guess that just a Brentt thing. Not every [hair stylist to customer] relationship is the same.
New stylist: Do you ever flat iron?
Me: Not anymore. I like it curly. I’ve embraced the curls.
Yes, that conversation happened. And wouldn’t you know, without even asking [Brentt would have asked] she styled my hair straight. If listening is a key component to relationships, I don’t see this one going any further.
Sure, I pay Brentt a lot of money to be with me [and play with my hair, dry the inside of my ears and offer me coffee] but I think what you pay for is what you get. [Ah, the golden rule to every relationship.] On Thursday, as I paid at the desk with my card, the lady handed back my receipt to sign and I asked, “Can I not add a tip to this?” Her response? “I could of if you had told me before.” Awesome. Well I didn’t know because she never asked … and all I had was a $5 bill in my wallet. I handed that over and she said, “Thank you. That’s very generous of you.”
A $5 tip on a $20 crappy haircut? Only Brentt deserves so much of my affection and appreciation [as shown through money from one customer to her gay hair stylist].
honey.
16 FebI guess it’s my new name.
It’s no Sunshine like Keith, the custodian at Grace in Dawson, would call me, or Sweet Pea like Harry, a congregation member in Dawson. But I’m pretty sure I’m getting a Honey identity here.
I heard it on Sunday as I was shaking hands. There is an older gentleman, a man, who along with his wife, is a pillar of the congregation. He shook my hand on Sunday after worship and said, “Good job, honey.”
Okay. Fair enough. I’m used to nicknames. I didn’t think a whole lot of it.
He called the church today to see if his wife had left Bible study yet. I answered his question and we began to end the phone conversation. I’m fairly certain he ended it with a “Thanks, hun.”
I guess Lindsay is just too hard for people. [That’s what Harry in Dawson told me anyways. I still remember the first conversation we had. “What’s your name again?” he asked me. “Lindsay.” “I won’t remember that. I’ll call you Sweet Pea.”] I will admit I almost prefer Honey over a simple Pastor. “Good morning, Pastor.” “Thank you, Pastor.” “You’re weird, Pastor.” [Okay. The last one is made up.] Too official. Too formal. *shiver* I think it’s a generational thing.
Honey it is.
working girl frustrations.
15 FebWork has been frustrating this week.
There. I said it.
Nothing is really wrong. It’s not really different than any other week.
It’s just that there is so much to do and it’s not getting done.
It’s not that I’m not working. I am. It’s that I want to be able to do things faster and swifter and to be able to cross them off my to-do list at a faster rate because the list keeps growing. [And not that this is exclusive to ministry. I’m beginning to think it’s inclusive of all adulthood.]
I feel like tasks take me too long. I feel like I need longer to process things, especially experiences the first time around. While I want to work and accomplish what I set out to do, more often than not I feel like my hours in the office look like this. [Click the link for one of the best Big Bang Theory scenes ever.]
[Why, yes. I do put my hand on my chin and play Eye of the Tiger at an higher-than-necessary volume. At least now I will.]
Le sigh. I know it’s just how it is. But I know I always get to Thursday afternoon and come to the realization that I could literally work all weekend long and still not accomplish all I should. I always get to Thursday with an unwritten sermon. I always get to Thursday and have more things I want to create, incorporate and say for the life of the congregation. [This week? A giant alleluia sign or something to “bury” during the children’s sermon on Sunday.]
Oh well. I certainly love what I do [most days] and feel blessed to be in this time and place. [Especially when I have confirmation students who tonight begged to stay later than usual. I consented and sacrificed the first half of Modern Family for such.] I am expecting a new book in the mail this weekend [The Practical Guide to Patchwork] so I hope to find time to lose myself in the craft room a bit this weekend and know that I will find renewal in that. We’ll just need to sneak in a sermon too … but really? That surprises no one.
No one.
*insert curse word of your choosing*
13 FebSituation number one: It’s Saturday. I’ve done my errands for the day and I’m at home, settling in and doing anything but finishing my sermon for the next day. There’s a knock on the door and I find my neighbor and her daughter at the door. [Neutron’s owners. I love them and think there might be friend potential. The neighbor at my door, her husband and I totally geeked out after church yesterday about all things Apple and lamenting for faster internet. We understand each other.] Rachel, the daughter, is selling Girl Scout cookies. [Let it begin.] I invite them into my slightly messy kitchen and they spread the cookie order form out on the counter … right in front of my pint glass that reads “Consumption of alcohol may lead to epic dance parties.”
*insert curse word of your choosing*
While the statement may be true, it’s not what parishioners need to see on my counter – let alone a third grader. [I will make the distinction that the glass was not filled with alcohol. But still not cool.]
Situation number two: Now it’s Sunday after church. Same family. I see the mom and make some joke apologizing for my appearance on Saturdays. I always wonder just a little bit when people see me not as “pastor” but instead in sweats with no makeup and crazier than normal hair; I wonder what they think. I said something about being much more put together on Sundays with makeup and whatnot. The mom looks at the daughter and say, “Not that women need to wear makeup. We’re beautiful without makeup.”
*insert curse word of your choosing* while I stick my foot in my mouth.
I totally agree with the mom and it made me realize I should be a bit more careful around young, impressionable girls about makeup/clothes talk. Reminds me of this article.
Situation number three: My southern Minnesotan family [Paige, Lauren, and jD] and I went to a church gathering in Owatonna last night. It’s a church that uses space in a Baptist church and a gathering that tries to stay away from what you would even consider church. As pastors, it’s nice to have a place to worship – actually worship – and not be responsible for leading. Maybe this could be that place for us? We walked in [late] to join a group of eight adults sitting around an old oriental rug [it really tied the room together] and coffee table. A couple is singing songs, a la Indigo Girls. He looks Amish and she looks bohemian like I’ve always wanted to be. The gathering continues into an hour discussion on … wisdom? There were charts. Diagrams. Flippant references to Scripture. And we were missing the beginning of the Grammys.
… get. us. out. of. here. *insert curse word of your choosing*
Despite the … unconventional? not engaging? … hour of talk about decision making, I kinda sorta want to go back because the people were so incredibly gracious and welcoming. We were offered tea from the start, and a few people moved so we could sit together. [Will people move pews in a Lutheran church to accommodate? Honestly debatable.] After the gathering was over, they practically swarmed around us, asking us questions and engaging us, telling us again and again that they hoped we’d come back. Will we go back? I don’t know. I wouldn’t mind giving it another go; it could be a fun community to become involved in. But only if the charts and diagrams end.
#parsonageprojectsaturday
11 FebBeginning as a thought on Thursday, I declared today parsonage project saturday. *throws glitter*
I had a list of projects I hoped to accomplish and now that it is evening, I feel pretty accomplished. [A little … not a lot. Please excuse the Friends reference.] A Valentines-esque wreath hangs on my front door, a fabric basket now organizes Mabel things in the closet, and my bedroom is a little closer to awesome. [I found the yellow quilt and sham on clearance at Target this morning for $10! The gray and yellow theme continues to be a work in progress.]
If we delve a bit deeper in to the details, the berries on the wreath are a little too Christmas but I think it works. [And the decor is put on in a way which can be removed and adapted for the next holiday of choice.] I’m fairly certain I bought the wrong kind of interfacing for the fabric basket and that caused me to break two needles in its construction. And the photo of my bed? It’s now completely strewn with clothes and that’s normally how it stays. But I also did three loads of laundry, sneezed approximately seventeen times, and bought Girl Scout cookies from the neighbors who stopped by. I bought napkins on clearance with which to make living room throw pillows, made a chicken/sweet potato dinner, and baked a cookie cheesecake to take to a Grammy’s party [what what] tomorrow night. Boom. You’ve been had, Saturday.
*hangs head* … and now I finish my sermon.
the man’s club.
8 FebTwice a month, I lead short worship services at the care center in Blooming Prairie. I’ll be honest – I kinda sorta dread them. I drag my feet and complain about going. But I’ll also admit that most times, afterwards, I leave feeling pretty great about having been there.
I think the dread lies in the extra preparation and the they-normally-fall-asleep-on-me sermon uncertainty. I never know how to preach. They’re a hard crowd to read. But I always try … and that’s what counts, right? Today, I had a woman pay me the highest compliment at the care center. “I enjoyed your sermon. I didn’t even fall asleep!”
After chapel is coffee and bar time. I sat with a member named Lyle today … which meant sitting at the man table. I enjoyed a date bar and coffee with Lyle, Art, Bud, and Charlie. Seriously grand. I wish I had a picture of them in their four wheelchairs around the table. They talked about picking scabs [so not joking], the BP gossip, and the fact that I’m not married. At one point, Lyle leaned over and said, “I bet you’re uncomfortable being at the man table.”
Uncomfortable? No. Entertained? Certainly.
what I love about february thus far:
8 Feb. old fashioned oats.
. the bachelor on monday nights. it consumes me.
. confirmation wednesday. nothing new there. pizza party tonight!
. a 10 o clock bedtime with tea and mr. kindle. I’m currently visiting nazi germany with the book thief.
. the postmaster in blooming. she didn’t hate me when I brought packages that spewed glitter from the wrapping. in fact, she complimented it.
. sweet potatoes. sliced and oven roasted with garlic.
. sending old school valentines.
. an iphone software update. fun for all.
. a few new shirts from the super clearance racks.
. the craft room and new projects.
what’s on your list?
business time.
7 FebI came home tonight and went promptly to my craft room. To my sewing machine. To my place of creativity and sanity. [except when the seam ripper and I spend too much time together.]
I found this on a blog via pinterest a few days ago. I’m an adult now; I have real business cards. [as opposed to fake ones. I’ve had those too.] I needed something to carry them about. I have some in my wallet; some in my desk drawer. But I don’t always have my wallet and I’m not always in my office. A business card holder I can sew?
Bingo.
Like any project of mine, it’s a bit wonky. And not quite right. And made with random scraps of fabric I had on hand. And I’m a little unsure of the HUGE fabric covered button on the front. But it’s what we got and I’ll use it and love it and hand out my business cards every chance I get. It’s practical if nothing else.
hey. like my keyboard? thank you boredom, pinterest, and my happy tape supply.
hey again. title reference? here.
