I'm currently comtemplating auditioning for Atlanta Lyric Theatre. I'm excited and scared to death. I haven't been in a play in almost 5 years. I've auditioned for a church choir and an a cappella group in that time, successfully, but that was 4 years ago. Most plays/musicals for which I've auditioned didn't require monologues or prepared pieces. I know I can do this, though. I prepared material for my audition for Governor's School way back in high school, and it was more involved than this.
I think part of the reason I broke away from theatre is that I felt like I wasn't being real. I spent so much time trying to become someone who was an actress, and forgot about that part where I become myself. I think I'd be a better actress now, having matured a bit, and having actually life experience now. Before, I was living a very sheltered life, comparitively-speaking. I'm also a lot more outgoing than I was before. I also think I am better at following directions.
Anyhow, what to prepare? I have a few pieces selected. It's funny. In our a cappella group, it isn't so much what our auditioners sing, it's more important that they demonstrate that they CAN sing. It matters a lot more. I'm trying to keep that in mind and not stress over my selections! I also don't want to choose the same pieces as everyone else, so I'll probably stay away from shows that toured here or put on in Atlanta recently. Still, it's hard to decide.
I hope that I can juggle my coaching and work responsibilities around it all, too.
We shall see what we shall see!
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Friday, February 29, 2008
Green kitchen to come! (Or, Painting woes may be at an end)
Hooray! We've finally thrown in the towel!
I know it's unusual to celebrate defeat, but I'm doing just that. Our kitchen, lovely and wonderful as it is, has been the source of much frustration in the Henschen household as of late. We tried to paint the walls of the kitchen a golden yellow, and we tried two different shades: Behr's Goldfish and then Behr's Yam. Both went on the wall with as much ease as you'd expect when you try to lift a 300 lb greased pig. Yep, you get the idea. It looked like pooh.
We gave up once and went back to white primer, instead of going forth with our golden mess. It was around this time that I started dropping strong hints that I wasn't sold on the gold. It just didn't seem to flow as well in our color scheme/design plan as we had orginally anticipated. It seemed too bright, too off-palate. It did not go at all with the painting we used to select the other colors. Josef has had a lot of travel for work, so I've been on my own with the kitchen being out of sorts. I decided to give the paint color one more try, just to see if maybe it would mellow out and blend well with the other colors in our house. I applied two coats very quickly, then a third and fourth over subsequent days. The paint still looked bad. It was going onto the wall a whole lot better, though, because I got a roller with a 1/4" nap.
5 coats later, and the paint still looks bad. Josef got home last night from yet another work trip and I leveled with him: I hated the paint color. He asked what I wanted instead, and I told him I wanted it to be green. He, in exhaustion from travel, shook his head, told me to pick a paint color, and go with it. Later on, though, we did agree on Asparagus by Behr, and that I shall buy on my way home. I'm very excited! I think it will look a million times better AND go on to the wall better because it won't be a yellow color. We and other friends have had trouble with yellow paint. We painted three walls of our living room Kayak yellow by Ralph Lauren. Yes, it felt snooty to buy Ralph Lauren paint, but the color was the absolute best color choice for the room and the painting contains it. We used it first, and though it turned out a million times better than the gold in the kitchen, it did take several coats of primer and paint to get it looking the way it should. Then we painted the fourth wall of the living room - an accent wall - the same sky blue that is in the painting. It was Behr paint, but I don't recall its name at the moment. It went on like a dream! It took less paint and less fuss, and it looks gorgeous.
We also painted the front entry way, front tv room, and hallway to the kitchen a rich dark blue that also goes well with the painting. We did this at the same exact time as the kitchen paint, using the exact same paint base, and yet the dark blue went on as beautifully and with as much ease as the sky blue had. Amazing. So, here we find ourselves sick of painting, but more knowledgeable than we were when 2008 began. :)
On to a green kitchen! I can't wait to see it when it's done and I can have my kitchen back!
I know it's unusual to celebrate defeat, but I'm doing just that. Our kitchen, lovely and wonderful as it is, has been the source of much frustration in the Henschen household as of late. We tried to paint the walls of the kitchen a golden yellow, and we tried two different shades: Behr's Goldfish and then Behr's Yam. Both went on the wall with as much ease as you'd expect when you try to lift a 300 lb greased pig. Yep, you get the idea. It looked like pooh.
We gave up once and went back to white primer, instead of going forth with our golden mess. It was around this time that I started dropping strong hints that I wasn't sold on the gold. It just didn't seem to flow as well in our color scheme/design plan as we had orginally anticipated. It seemed too bright, too off-palate. It did not go at all with the painting we used to select the other colors. Josef has had a lot of travel for work, so I've been on my own with the kitchen being out of sorts. I decided to give the paint color one more try, just to see if maybe it would mellow out and blend well with the other colors in our house. I applied two coats very quickly, then a third and fourth over subsequent days. The paint still looked bad. It was going onto the wall a whole lot better, though, because I got a roller with a 1/4" nap.
5 coats later, and the paint still looks bad. Josef got home last night from yet another work trip and I leveled with him: I hated the paint color. He asked what I wanted instead, and I told him I wanted it to be green. He, in exhaustion from travel, shook his head, told me to pick a paint color, and go with it. Later on, though, we did agree on Asparagus by Behr, and that I shall buy on my way home. I'm very excited! I think it will look a million times better AND go on to the wall better because it won't be a yellow color. We and other friends have had trouble with yellow paint. We painted three walls of our living room Kayak yellow by Ralph Lauren. Yes, it felt snooty to buy Ralph Lauren paint, but the color was the absolute best color choice for the room and the painting contains it. We used it first, and though it turned out a million times better than the gold in the kitchen, it did take several coats of primer and paint to get it looking the way it should. Then we painted the fourth wall of the living room - an accent wall - the same sky blue that is in the painting. It was Behr paint, but I don't recall its name at the moment. It went on like a dream! It took less paint and less fuss, and it looks gorgeous.
We also painted the front entry way, front tv room, and hallway to the kitchen a rich dark blue that also goes well with the painting. We did this at the same exact time as the kitchen paint, using the exact same paint base, and yet the dark blue went on as beautifully and with as much ease as the sky blue had. Amazing. So, here we find ourselves sick of painting, but more knowledgeable than we were when 2008 began. :)
On to a green kitchen! I can't wait to see it when it's done and I can have my kitchen back!
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Old Hymns have been my friends lately...
I take very seriously the season of Lent. A lot of people, upon learning this about me, retort (seriously, they retort) that Lent is a Catholic thing. Nay, I tell you. It's catholic, as in universally Christian, as the lower-case c in "catholic" denotes. I grew up celebrating this season with my family. I don't remember exactly whether the current pastor at church pushed it one Sunday or if my older sisters just decided to do it, but I got it into my head before I turned 7 or so that I am a practicer of Lent. Every year, the Sunday before Lent began a three-day contemplation over what item of comfort or lust or entertainment to give up. We certainly weren't going to fast. We are a family that likes to eat too much, to be honest. Usually, when we were younger, we gave up chocolate, making the arrival of the oh-so-Christian Easter Bunny all the more salient. As I grew older, I took it a little more seriously. I gave up tv or something else. In college, I got pretty intense (who doesn't?) and really stepped it up religiously-speaking by once giving up instant messenger and, junior year, giving up carbs.
It wasn't until after college that I heard folks talking about taking on a practice for Lent, rather than giving up something: writing a note to someone, praying for someone different each day, or some other sort of way of sacrificing your own form of selfishness.
This year, I find myself pudgy beyond comfort and cannot bear the idea of growing any bigger. I really am angry with myself for not losing weight when I have every reason in the world to be in great shape: a great neighborhood to walk in - and, indeed, a dog to walk in it!, a free gym to use a work, stairs in my house, music to dance to, a campus to walk in, coaching cheerleading, a house to keep clean, etc. I find that once I start to lose any weight, I cave in to my old behavior of saying, "Oh, my clothes are fitting better, so I can go ahead and eat that candy or drink that wine." Enough. I owe it to myself mentally and physically to be sacrificial enough to stave off lapsing yet again. Yes, it's selfish to focus on my own temple during Lent. I fully admit it. What am I giving up? I'm giving up comfort: no bread, no pasta, nothing that was created using flour, eggs, and butter - so that means cookies, too. I'm giving up sedatives, i.e., alcohol. That's going to be MUCH harder than bread/pasta/cookies. I don't think I'm an alkie or anything, but I do like to unwind on the weekends, and I find that helps. Plus, I enjoy it, so giving it up means also sacrificing something that brings me pleasure. If it means I shed I few pounds in the next 38 days, so be it. I must be strong.
So you're maybe wondering why I titled this blog about old hymns and if I am going to talk about them. Well, here ya are. There have been a few hymns that have been stuck on repeat in my mind that I grew up singing at my little bitty church in South Carolina. They are Oldies but Goodies. One is called "Sweet Hour of Prayer" and it celebrates the consolation we find while gathered for worship: it "calls us from a world a prayer" and, "in seasons of distress and grief/ My soul has often found relief" at church. The other song, "What a Friend We Have in Jesus" has been on my mind more so, because it describes the "privilege to carry everything to God in prayer" because you "will find a solace there." Both of these hymns I learned as elderly Mimi Searight plunked on the "downstairs" piano (the "upstairs" piano was in our sanctuary, which was, not surprisingly, upstairs). I didn't really think about them much when I was younger, but instead I focused more on singing them well. Now I take them in cerebrally - in fact, they seem to be attacking me. They came out of nowhere! That's the amazing thing about God. There's just no time to grow complacent in my faith, and the practices of attending church and prayer should be done with gusto and indeed with a sense of gratitude for their availability as tools to grow in relationship with God. The ideas in these songs, and others I learned in those formative years, are the spine of my faith. They comfort me when I wake at night. They sing themselves in my minds ear during worship. They remind me of how utterly simple belief is as a concept and how the promises of God are so good they can't be ignored or postponed.
It's with these thoughts I enter into Lent, yet again, with a sobered mind and a soul full of hope. I pray that God grants me eyes to see the rich blessings of this world and the chances that my hands need to take up God's work for me. May I hear the call when I am summoned. May I express with joy, with my utterly small-yet-large life, how grateful I am that I am called a child of God!
It wasn't until after college that I heard folks talking about taking on a practice for Lent, rather than giving up something: writing a note to someone, praying for someone different each day, or some other sort of way of sacrificing your own form of selfishness.
This year, I find myself pudgy beyond comfort and cannot bear the idea of growing any bigger. I really am angry with myself for not losing weight when I have every reason in the world to be in great shape: a great neighborhood to walk in - and, indeed, a dog to walk in it!, a free gym to use a work, stairs in my house, music to dance to, a campus to walk in, coaching cheerleading, a house to keep clean, etc. I find that once I start to lose any weight, I cave in to my old behavior of saying, "Oh, my clothes are fitting better, so I can go ahead and eat that candy or drink that wine." Enough. I owe it to myself mentally and physically to be sacrificial enough to stave off lapsing yet again. Yes, it's selfish to focus on my own temple during Lent. I fully admit it. What am I giving up? I'm giving up comfort: no bread, no pasta, nothing that was created using flour, eggs, and butter - so that means cookies, too. I'm giving up sedatives, i.e., alcohol. That's going to be MUCH harder than bread/pasta/cookies. I don't think I'm an alkie or anything, but I do like to unwind on the weekends, and I find that helps. Plus, I enjoy it, so giving it up means also sacrificing something that brings me pleasure. If it means I shed I few pounds in the next 38 days, so be it. I must be strong.
So you're maybe wondering why I titled this blog about old hymns and if I am going to talk about them. Well, here ya are. There have been a few hymns that have been stuck on repeat in my mind that I grew up singing at my little bitty church in South Carolina. They are Oldies but Goodies. One is called "Sweet Hour of Prayer" and it celebrates the consolation we find while gathered for worship: it "calls us from a world a prayer" and, "in seasons of distress and grief/ My soul has often found relief" at church. The other song, "What a Friend We Have in Jesus" has been on my mind more so, because it describes the "privilege to carry everything to God in prayer" because you "will find a solace there." Both of these hymns I learned as elderly Mimi Searight plunked on the "downstairs" piano (the "upstairs" piano was in our sanctuary, which was, not surprisingly, upstairs). I didn't really think about them much when I was younger, but instead I focused more on singing them well. Now I take them in cerebrally - in fact, they seem to be attacking me. They came out of nowhere! That's the amazing thing about God. There's just no time to grow complacent in my faith, and the practices of attending church and prayer should be done with gusto and indeed with a sense of gratitude for their availability as tools to grow in relationship with God. The ideas in these songs, and others I learned in those formative years, are the spine of my faith. They comfort me when I wake at night. They sing themselves in my minds ear during worship. They remind me of how utterly simple belief is as a concept and how the promises of God are so good they can't be ignored or postponed.
It's with these thoughts I enter into Lent, yet again, with a sobered mind and a soul full of hope. I pray that God grants me eyes to see the rich blessings of this world and the chances that my hands need to take up God's work for me. May I hear the call when I am summoned. May I express with joy, with my utterly small-yet-large life, how grateful I am that I am called a child of God!
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Merry, Merry and Happy, Happy!
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all! We are in the midst of our holiday vacation/work schedule at work, which allows for shorter work days and generous amounts of time off around Christmas and New Year's Days. It's all in anticipation for the onslaught of the Admissions Season, which will kick into high gear come January 7. I'm not too worried, though. It's a been a little weird to work in Admissions while I coach, but I am sure when cheerleading is over at the end of January, the extra time on my hands will come in handy in terms of what the work load will require. It's funny to me, 2 years after coming here, that no amount of stress here will ever compare with the Hades I endured at that other place where I worked before here. Oh, my, how I still feel sickened when I think about that.
I've come to a few realizations that I want to record.
1. I want to be an art teacher.
I want to become one very badly. It's all I can think about now. I am going to research schools and have some conversations with different folks about how to accomplish this goal. I know it will take some time, particularly if I want to work at a private school like Westminster.
The more I picture explaining art concepts to students, the more I know this is right. I would love to learn from other art teachers the ways they have gotten through to students. I want to break down the stereotypes that befall the art classroom and the poor kid in class who either hates it or bemoans his/her lack of talent. Those stereotypes: grading artwork based on "talent" and the quoted excuse "I can't draw a straight line." I have met too many people who hate art or anything to do with it because of how their art teacher(s) treated them. Others assume they have no innate ability, and provide the aforementioned excuse - to which I say, "well, I can't draw a straight line either! What do you think a ruler is for?" Besides, there aren't a lot of straight lines in art anyway.
Looking back from this point in time, and with the fire of my interest, I am deeply grateful to everyone in my life who has encouraged my creativity: namely, my father and my college art professors, along with a handful of school friends. I love that at our house, we just put a shelf (that was in the way downstairs) into the guestroom closet, thereby allowing me to create my art work supplies closet! It's too exciting for words, really. My dad gave me a new sketch pad, some replacement color pencils for my set, and some paint brushes. Now that our house is settling into our home, I covet the time that I can spend with all my supplies. I hope that I can paint or draw with my dad, too. It would be great.
If I become a teacher, I'll be joining my two sisters in the profession. Amy was the only one smart enough to actually major in education in college. Katherine's going to school and is one semester in. I think she'll be done in 2 more years.
2. It is okay to be an avid reader.
I am addicted to stories. I don't mean soap operas. I asked for books for Christmas, and was generously given books by Josef and his family members. I love to listen to audiobooks to fall asleep at night. I think I enjoy this pasttime so much because I will take any excuse to stop thinking about myself (yes, I realize that blogging is a bit ego-centric, but I am trying to validate my thoughts and move on!).
There is something so clever about books and their tales; the analogy I can draw is that in music, there are infinite possibilities of combinations of notes and rhythms and instrumental parts. It comes from nothingness, forms as an idea in the mind of the composer either in an intial air of its eventual self, or at times, it comes out the first time as it will remain, with no need of revision. It is the same with books, no matter the subject, whether fictional or not. I love the variations of the expression of possibility.
I guess my early love of reading is rearing its head an an important aspect of my life. I used to read at least 10 books a week during the summer while I was in elementary school. I would go to our local library and sit in the one-seater reading booth, where I was content to peruse a huge stack of books while my mother worked on homework for her classes to complete her teaching degree (See? There's that family thing again! Although, my mother never took a teaching job).
3. I can't live without tea.
It's true. I have grown to love tea and its history and traditions over the past two years. I love the way it smells, whatever kind it is. I especially love herbals and chais. For Christmas this year, I also received teas and books about tea. Very exciting! What I also love about tea is that others like it, too, which means it's a great excuse to hang out with some very fun people. Hooray for tea!
I've come to a few realizations that I want to record.
1. I want to be an art teacher.
I want to become one very badly. It's all I can think about now. I am going to research schools and have some conversations with different folks about how to accomplish this goal. I know it will take some time, particularly if I want to work at a private school like Westminster.
The more I picture explaining art concepts to students, the more I know this is right. I would love to learn from other art teachers the ways they have gotten through to students. I want to break down the stereotypes that befall the art classroom and the poor kid in class who either hates it or bemoans his/her lack of talent. Those stereotypes: grading artwork based on "talent" and the quoted excuse "I can't draw a straight line." I have met too many people who hate art or anything to do with it because of how their art teacher(s) treated them. Others assume they have no innate ability, and provide the aforementioned excuse - to which I say, "well, I can't draw a straight line either! What do you think a ruler is for?" Besides, there aren't a lot of straight lines in art anyway.
Looking back from this point in time, and with the fire of my interest, I am deeply grateful to everyone in my life who has encouraged my creativity: namely, my father and my college art professors, along with a handful of school friends. I love that at our house, we just put a shelf (that was in the way downstairs) into the guestroom closet, thereby allowing me to create my art work supplies closet! It's too exciting for words, really. My dad gave me a new sketch pad, some replacement color pencils for my set, and some paint brushes. Now that our house is settling into our home, I covet the time that I can spend with all my supplies. I hope that I can paint or draw with my dad, too. It would be great.
If I become a teacher, I'll be joining my two sisters in the profession. Amy was the only one smart enough to actually major in education in college. Katherine's going to school and is one semester in. I think she'll be done in 2 more years.
2. It is okay to be an avid reader.
I am addicted to stories. I don't mean soap operas. I asked for books for Christmas, and was generously given books by Josef and his family members. I love to listen to audiobooks to fall asleep at night. I think I enjoy this pasttime so much because I will take any excuse to stop thinking about myself (yes, I realize that blogging is a bit ego-centric, but I am trying to validate my thoughts and move on!).
There is something so clever about books and their tales; the analogy I can draw is that in music, there are infinite possibilities of combinations of notes and rhythms and instrumental parts. It comes from nothingness, forms as an idea in the mind of the composer either in an intial air of its eventual self, or at times, it comes out the first time as it will remain, with no need of revision. It is the same with books, no matter the subject, whether fictional or not. I love the variations of the expression of possibility.
I guess my early love of reading is rearing its head an an important aspect of my life. I used to read at least 10 books a week during the summer while I was in elementary school. I would go to our local library and sit in the one-seater reading booth, where I was content to peruse a huge stack of books while my mother worked on homework for her classes to complete her teaching degree (See? There's that family thing again! Although, my mother never took a teaching job).
3. I can't live without tea.
It's true. I have grown to love tea and its history and traditions over the past two years. I love the way it smells, whatever kind it is. I especially love herbals and chais. For Christmas this year, I also received teas and books about tea. Very exciting! What I also love about tea is that others like it, too, which means it's a great excuse to hang out with some very fun people. Hooray for tea!
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
On House Plans
Josef and I have spent the last two nights cleaning up our messy, messy house. It was so messy that we were both pretty on edge about it, but weekend plans and busy week schedules made us get quite behind on our domestic duties such as laundry, sorting through the mail, taking the dry cleaning, cleaning up all those papers that somehow accumulate on every available surface, etc. Add to that all the Hunter-hair-dustbunnies and other dirt badly in need of removal. To say our house was gross and messy would be putting it lightly.
Luckily, as I have said, we were able to devote some time to cleaning up. It looks so much better and it's a lot less stressful to enter our house. We have to get to work on some decorating next, so long as we can keep it clean, of couse!
Current plans
Downstairs, we need to rearrange our overly-crowded sitting room, figure out furniture for the formal living room, we need to finish building the dining room table, buy chairs for the dining room table, return the kitchen table and chairs to Josef's parents, and decorate. We need to paint the walls and the half bath, and we need to get some curtains for all the windows. The challenge will be working with a completely open downstairs floorplan, making existing furniture work with something new we bring in, finding fabrics for the entire downstairs for curtains and pillows and possible reupholstering of some furniture we have.
Upstairs, we are accidentally butting heads about decorating the master bedroom and bathroom. By accidental, I mean to say that we can't make up our minds about colors. I would rather find some bedding that we both like and then decorate the room around it, while Josef has paint color suggestions, some of which have now been taped to the wall. I want the room to be peaceful and relaxing, so I'm scared to paint a color and then have to find something to match or coordinate. I'd rather go the other direction, because then the paint color options will be much more narrowed down. So, I guess I'd better find some bedding we both like before Josef beats me to the punch! :) (Love you, honey!)
Also up for debate is the bathroom color. The nice folks who lived there before made out like Alice in Wonderland and painted the bathroom red. Is it ever RED. I have no idea what the paint color is actually called, but I dubbed it "Wake Me Up!" It seemed an appropriate name to me. Josef and I like the idea of the bathroom being a warm golden color, but due its proximity to and visibility from the master bedroom, I want to tread cautiously there and make sure it "flows" color-wise. I guess if it all winds up clashing, we'll just paint it again. The nice people who lived there also sloshed red paint all over all the fixtures and tiles in the bathroom. Ever heard of painter's tape? Geez.
The guestroom is looking the most put-together of all the rooms. With a russet duvet cover over the down comforter and nice seafoam blue/green sheets, the bed is a nice focal point. Some of my paintings add a bit of charm (I hope) to the room, and they coordinate well with the bedding, which was a total accident. Now we just need to put a nice warm paint color on the walls.
All the walls in the house, by the way, need to be painted. There are all kinds of marks, scrapes, and smudges all over the wall surfaces of the house. It will be a very good thing to get those walls repainted. I do like the khaki wall color just because it's a warm neutral, but I wouldn't be opposed to going a different direction (just not too drastic).
The guest bath is probably good to go, except it needs some Kilz on the ceiling. There appears to be a mold problem there, so that worries me. The walls are a good color, but, again, need to be repainted.
The office could probably do with some color. I don't remember if its walls are khaki like the rest of the house or an off-white. Our office two houses ago was a nice sky blue that made me happy, so maybe we could do that. Although, I'd like to somehow make the house flow together nicely; perhaps I ought to make sure I work off of an agreeable color palate for the house so it's not a crazy mish-mash of colors!
I guess the things holding me back are time, money, and the desire to do things right the first time. So, wish me luck!
Cheers,
Susan
Luckily, as I have said, we were able to devote some time to cleaning up. It looks so much better and it's a lot less stressful to enter our house. We have to get to work on some decorating next, so long as we can keep it clean, of couse!
Current plans
Downstairs, we need to rearrange our overly-crowded sitting room, figure out furniture for the formal living room, we need to finish building the dining room table, buy chairs for the dining room table, return the kitchen table and chairs to Josef's parents, and decorate. We need to paint the walls and the half bath, and we need to get some curtains for all the windows. The challenge will be working with a completely open downstairs floorplan, making existing furniture work with something new we bring in, finding fabrics for the entire downstairs for curtains and pillows and possible reupholstering of some furniture we have.
Upstairs, we are accidentally butting heads about decorating the master bedroom and bathroom. By accidental, I mean to say that we can't make up our minds about colors. I would rather find some bedding that we both like and then decorate the room around it, while Josef has paint color suggestions, some of which have now been taped to the wall. I want the room to be peaceful and relaxing, so I'm scared to paint a color and then have to find something to match or coordinate. I'd rather go the other direction, because then the paint color options will be much more narrowed down. So, I guess I'd better find some bedding we both like before Josef beats me to the punch! :) (Love you, honey!)
Also up for debate is the bathroom color. The nice folks who lived there before made out like Alice in Wonderland and painted the bathroom red. Is it ever RED. I have no idea what the paint color is actually called, but I dubbed it "Wake Me Up!" It seemed an appropriate name to me. Josef and I like the idea of the bathroom being a warm golden color, but due its proximity to and visibility from the master bedroom, I want to tread cautiously there and make sure it "flows" color-wise. I guess if it all winds up clashing, we'll just paint it again. The nice people who lived there also sloshed red paint all over all the fixtures and tiles in the bathroom. Ever heard of painter's tape? Geez.
The guestroom is looking the most put-together of all the rooms. With a russet duvet cover over the down comforter and nice seafoam blue/green sheets, the bed is a nice focal point. Some of my paintings add a bit of charm (I hope) to the room, and they coordinate well with the bedding, which was a total accident. Now we just need to put a nice warm paint color on the walls.
All the walls in the house, by the way, need to be painted. There are all kinds of marks, scrapes, and smudges all over the wall surfaces of the house. It will be a very good thing to get those walls repainted. I do like the khaki wall color just because it's a warm neutral, but I wouldn't be opposed to going a different direction (just not too drastic).
The guest bath is probably good to go, except it needs some Kilz on the ceiling. There appears to be a mold problem there, so that worries me. The walls are a good color, but, again, need to be repainted.
The office could probably do with some color. I don't remember if its walls are khaki like the rest of the house or an off-white. Our office two houses ago was a nice sky blue that made me happy, so maybe we could do that. Although, I'd like to somehow make the house flow together nicely; perhaps I ought to make sure I work off of an agreeable color palate for the house so it's not a crazy mish-mash of colors!
I guess the things holding me back are time, money, and the desire to do things right the first time. So, wish me luck!
Cheers,
Susan
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Anybody up for a rain dance?
As my father would say of Spartanburg, South Carolina, if I called him up right now, it is most definitely "cotton pickin' dry" here in Atlanta. You may have heard about our drought. My father, an avid gardner, deals with such nemeses as droughts, bugs, sweltering heat, and sore muscles on a yearly basis, and it never fails that his yard is amazing. Situated low to the ground next to the flower bed, water hose in hand, he says of each clump of flowers, "This one needs a drink." Then he points the nozzle at the base of each clump of flowers and serves it a slow, satisfying trickle until he is sure that it is safe from the dry weather.
We moved into our first house - as in, one that we bought instead of rented - two months ago, and Josef and I planted pansies and daffodil bulbs. Our tulips bulbs are enjoying their form of an ice bath; that is, they are chilling out in our mini fridge until it's cold enough to plant them outside. Because of the drought, though, I am now forbidden to water my pansies. It's a very serious drought, compounded by the fact that Georgia is giving much of our lake water to Florida and Alabama. For now, I can wash piles of laundry and run our dishwasher, but I can't water the flowers. My mother assures me that they will spring back once cold weather sets in, along with winter rains, but it's so hard to see them struggle right now. Their faces, which are growing smaller to compensate for the lack of water, antagonize me with pleas for water each time I pass by them to and from the front door. I'm thinking about secretly watering them using bottled water that we have at our house. Or maybe littering the ground with ice cubes tonight.
Drought has further visited my family's lives, but in a figurative and sad way. We found out yesterday that our sister Amy lost the baby she was carrying. I see that as a drought because, despite everyone's best intentions, there just wasn't enough of some essential ingredient to enable this life to develop. The good news is that she already has two beautiful and healthy children. This most recent pregnancy was a surprise, as Amy and her husband, Jeremy, certainly hadn't planned it. According to my mother, Amy had just become excited about the baby, rather than anxious about having another baby in the house. Their children, Freeman and Lilly, are young at 1 and 4 years old. My thoughts and prayers are with her today. She had a miscarriage either my junior or senior year of college, before she had Lilly. It's sad to think of these two children she didn't have, especially when I think of them next to our niece and nephew. It's like there are little ghosts of them in my mind. I don't know if Amy and Jeremy will try again, given the shock of the surprise and then sadness at failure of the poor fetus to survive.
Other areas where I am or have recently experienced droughts/dry spells:
We moved into our first house - as in, one that we bought instead of rented - two months ago, and Josef and I planted pansies and daffodil bulbs. Our tulips bulbs are enjoying their form of an ice bath; that is, they are chilling out in our mini fridge until it's cold enough to plant them outside. Because of the drought, though, I am now forbidden to water my pansies. It's a very serious drought, compounded by the fact that Georgia is giving much of our lake water to Florida and Alabama. For now, I can wash piles of laundry and run our dishwasher, but I can't water the flowers. My mother assures me that they will spring back once cold weather sets in, along with winter rains, but it's so hard to see them struggle right now. Their faces, which are growing smaller to compensate for the lack of water, antagonize me with pleas for water each time I pass by them to and from the front door. I'm thinking about secretly watering them using bottled water that we have at our house. Or maybe littering the ground with ice cubes tonight.
Drought has further visited my family's lives, but in a figurative and sad way. We found out yesterday that our sister Amy lost the baby she was carrying. I see that as a drought because, despite everyone's best intentions, there just wasn't enough of some essential ingredient to enable this life to develop. The good news is that she already has two beautiful and healthy children. This most recent pregnancy was a surprise, as Amy and her husband, Jeremy, certainly hadn't planned it. According to my mother, Amy had just become excited about the baby, rather than anxious about having another baby in the house. Their children, Freeman and Lilly, are young at 1 and 4 years old. My thoughts and prayers are with her today. She had a miscarriage either my junior or senior year of college, before she had Lilly. It's sad to think of these two children she didn't have, especially when I think of them next to our niece and nephew. It's like there are little ghosts of them in my mind. I don't know if Amy and Jeremy will try again, given the shock of the surprise and then sadness at failure of the poor fetus to survive.
Other areas where I am or have recently experienced droughts/dry spells:
- Art. I think I've already mentioned my need to create. It's getting pretty bad at this point, so I had better finish cleaning my house (my obstacle to be able to paint) so I can do that!
- My friendships. I miss college so much in terms of how easy it was to hang out with people. It's so hard to make time to see everyone that I care about, so I've been on a phone call and email roll ever since the move and our vacation. Both moving and vacationing takes you a bit out of the loop with friends, so I'm really looking forward to upcoming parties and other events.
- Religiously speaking, I felt like I have been going through the motions of living my faith, but not actually participating at a satisfactory degree. Fortunately, we've started young adult women's small group at church, which is great for bonding with other women and deepening my faith. I grew up being quite immersed in church activities and gave it my all in prayers and reading The Bible. College (though wonderful), and life after college (which has also been wonderful), kind of took my energy out of pursuing my relationship with God and figuring out what I really believe. I know that what I believe about God has changed a bit since I went to college, but I really need to spend time solidifying how I express that belief. I feel like I have sort of pigeonholed God, even though that action is not exactly being true to who I feel I am. At this stage in my life, I don't feel like doing much studying. I'm more interested in conversation with others about what they believe and experience how my own beliefs differ or align with theirs. I am open for change, still, as I think that's the healthier way to experience faith (faith being different from morals and values in my book).
So what are life's lessons during times of drought (literal and figurative)?
- Be grateful for what I do have?
- Fight the urge to whine about not being able to water the flowers?
- Make better plans for the next go 'round?
- Store up everything I could possibly need, like water?
- Realize I can't go back in time to fix things that have now gone wrong?
- Rest assured that things have to get better at some point?
- Find small ways to grow and create when time is in short supply?
- Focus on the things that really matter - maybe keeping pansies alive isn't really that high a priority after all.
Maybe they are all lessons to which I should be paying close attention. I guess there are all kinds of dry spells we go through, but the most severe ones stay with us even after they're gone.
That was a pretty serious post, but I think I needed to get those thoughts out. I will definitely write again when I think of something funny to write about. I like to keep things even in my life, so I will strive to do the same with my blog!
Thanks for reading,
Susan
Monday, October 15, 2007
Fun Weekends are all the validation that I need that life is good
We invited some friends, Kelly and Beau, to Oktoberfest with us in Helen, GA this past weekend. Kelly is one of my friends from Octave, and her husband and my husband have become friends through watching us perform and our various social occassions (because the women in the group really like each other, so we get together as much as we can to socialize). :)
We knew we had to get up there early because Helen gets packed during Oktoberfest. Fortuntely we weren't too delayed by early morning packing and dropping off our dog, Hunter, with Josef's parents. We originally wanted to be there by 10:30, but rolling in at 11:00 wasn't too bad. We did wind up in traffic and as such had to wait about 15 minutes to roll into our hotel. We stayed at the Super 8, which is unlike any other Super 8 ever. It's actually really nice, because it's in Helen. It's also pricey, because most hotels fill for Oktoberfest and they are so kind as to double their prices.
We went to lunch at the The Altstädter Weinstube & Biergarten, which is pricey but so nice. We each had 2 beers and entrees, and we basked in the warm autumnal sun at our outdoor table. The weather was quite lovely. We had gone to Betty's country store beforehand, where we acquired breakfast for the following morning, marbles and Ronald Reagan paper dolls for Beau and Kelly, and some cider for my friend Via. After lunch, we made our way to the yummiest destination in Helen: Hansel and Gretel Candy Kitchen. There we bought our haul of sweets, including 2 carmel-covered apples, fudge for Josef, nativity calendars (with a chocolate for each day), and chocolate-covered marshmallow sticks. YUM!
After this first round of fun in Helen, we were able to check into our hotel room (check in was at 3, and we had arrived 4 hours too early). We chilled in the room for a bit and then decided to go for a little hike. Beau brought his football along. We ran by the FestHalle, which was getting started already with its music and merriment, but we wanted only to get our entrance bracelets to avoid the line later. We were braceleted up and ready for our return sometime later. We went up the hill to the playground, but we never tried to hike. Instead, we tossed the football around to each other and climbed on the playground equipment. It was a lot of fun. We felt like kids. Luckily we didn't wear ourselves out, because, obviously, there was fun to be had at the FestHalle.
Around 5:00 we took the FestHalle by storm.
No, not really. But we did by clear plastic mugs that lit up when you lifted them off the table. After a few too many rounds of Leinenkugel's Summer Wheat, though, the spinning lights at the bottom of my mug made me feel a little woozy and I had to flip the switch off on the bottom of the mug. :) We quickly made friends with the folks on either side of us at the table. They were all very nice. They had traveled from near Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, and Gulf Shores, Alabama. We danced a whole lot this year! It was so much fun. Lots of Chicken Dances, polkas, etc. We joined in the big conga line that seemed to last forever (but was so much fun). We linked arms with the folks at our table and swayed back and forth. We sang "Ein Prosit" at the top of our lungs every 30 minutes.
We rolled out of the FestHalle around 10:30 or so, and we were all asleep by 11:00. After a rough start on my part, Kelly and I were in her car, heading back to Atlanta by 9:15. We had to be at our warm up for our Octave performance at the Brookhaven Arts Festival by 10:30, but we were a little late. We practiced in the car and chatted about how much fun we had had the night before. The boys were heading down separately, which was a good thing because they were not quite ready to leave Helen at 9:00 when we had been packing up. Luckily, they made it just in time to watch us perform at noon.
After our performance, Josef and I walked around the Festival, looking at the artwork. We saw some amazing things. Josef joked that he was glad that the artwork was expensive, otherwise he would have bought it all. :) I definitely got some good ideas for my own artwork, but I need to figure out when I'm going to have time to work on anything. It was very cool meeting the artists who had created so many unique pieces. Every type of medium was represented, so the organizers definitely deserve kudos for getting such a good assortment to come out. Several happy Festival goers were happily walking away with newly-cherished pieces of art for their homes.
I believe that art, like music, is also a universal language. There wasn't anything distinctly American about the collections of artwork we saw yesterday. The artwork also seemed to depict the world's landscapes, emotions, and dreams. I think it's a beautiful way to connect with one another.
Enjoy your day,
Susan
We knew we had to get up there early because Helen gets packed during Oktoberfest. Fortuntely we weren't too delayed by early morning packing and dropping off our dog, Hunter, with Josef's parents. We originally wanted to be there by 10:30, but rolling in at 11:00 wasn't too bad. We did wind up in traffic and as such had to wait about 15 minutes to roll into our hotel. We stayed at the Super 8, which is unlike any other Super 8 ever. It's actually really nice, because it's in Helen. It's also pricey, because most hotels fill for Oktoberfest and they are so kind as to double their prices.
We went to lunch at the The Altstädter Weinstube & Biergarten, which is pricey but so nice. We each had 2 beers and entrees, and we basked in the warm autumnal sun at our outdoor table. The weather was quite lovely. We had gone to Betty's country store beforehand, where we acquired breakfast for the following morning, marbles and Ronald Reagan paper dolls for Beau and Kelly, and some cider for my friend Via. After lunch, we made our way to the yummiest destination in Helen: Hansel and Gretel Candy Kitchen. There we bought our haul of sweets, including 2 carmel-covered apples, fudge for Josef, nativity calendars (with a chocolate for each day), and chocolate-covered marshmallow sticks. YUM!
After this first round of fun in Helen, we were able to check into our hotel room (check in was at 3, and we had arrived 4 hours too early). We chilled in the room for a bit and then decided to go for a little hike. Beau brought his football along. We ran by the FestHalle, which was getting started already with its music and merriment, but we wanted only to get our entrance bracelets to avoid the line later. We were braceleted up and ready for our return sometime later. We went up the hill to the playground, but we never tried to hike. Instead, we tossed the football around to each other and climbed on the playground equipment. It was a lot of fun. We felt like kids. Luckily we didn't wear ourselves out, because, obviously, there was fun to be had at the FestHalle.
Around 5:00 we took the FestHalle by storm.
No, not really. But we did by clear plastic mugs that lit up when you lifted them off the table. After a few too many rounds of Leinenkugel's Summer Wheat, though, the spinning lights at the bottom of my mug made me feel a little woozy and I had to flip the switch off on the bottom of the mug. :) We quickly made friends with the folks on either side of us at the table. They were all very nice. They had traveled from near Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, and Gulf Shores, Alabama. We danced a whole lot this year! It was so much fun. Lots of Chicken Dances, polkas, etc. We joined in the big conga line that seemed to last forever (but was so much fun). We linked arms with the folks at our table and swayed back and forth. We sang "Ein Prosit" at the top of our lungs every 30 minutes.
We rolled out of the FestHalle around 10:30 or so, and we were all asleep by 11:00. After a rough start on my part, Kelly and I were in her car, heading back to Atlanta by 9:15. We had to be at our warm up for our Octave performance at the Brookhaven Arts Festival by 10:30, but we were a little late. We practiced in the car and chatted about how much fun we had had the night before. The boys were heading down separately, which was a good thing because they were not quite ready to leave Helen at 9:00 when we had been packing up. Luckily, they made it just in time to watch us perform at noon.
After our performance, Josef and I walked around the Festival, looking at the artwork. We saw some amazing things. Josef joked that he was glad that the artwork was expensive, otherwise he would have bought it all. :) I definitely got some good ideas for my own artwork, but I need to figure out when I'm going to have time to work on anything. It was very cool meeting the artists who had created so many unique pieces. Every type of medium was represented, so the organizers definitely deserve kudos for getting such a good assortment to come out. Several happy Festival goers were happily walking away with newly-cherished pieces of art for their homes.
I believe that art, like music, is also a universal language. There wasn't anything distinctly American about the collections of artwork we saw yesterday. The artwork also seemed to depict the world's landscapes, emotions, and dreams. I think it's a beautiful way to connect with one another.
Enjoy your day,
Susan
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