Freezer Paper stenciling and broken gates

Yesterday, I thought I'd try my hand at some freezer paper stenciling, like I'd seen on pinterest. I got out my photo, my wax paper, my marker and scissors and traced my sweet puppy's head onto the paper. It was a little confusing, though. I couldn't find the "shiny" side. They both seemed shiny, but I continued and then cut out my creation, being careful to keep both the positive and negative intact so I could have each side of the throw pillow I am making opposite. I lay the wax paper stencil down and began to iron... no dice. It just shriveled and confused me. After a quick call to my grandmother, I learned that wax paper≠freezer paper. I'm headed to the store this afternoon and will post a "Puppy Pillow" tutorial.


xoxo
Jess


Also, our back gate no longer latches. Until our handyman gets back from vacation sometime this week, the gate is tied together with an old Petco sack. Yeah, we're classy, but Moose can't just go strolling around the neighborhood like he tried to do Friday.

Humidifiers and ducks, a comic tragedy

We're sick here in Central Texas. Not we as in me and Moose, but we as in the entire community. Something about the cold and the rain has combined to make a disgusting winter mix of allergies and sore throats. This morning, I woke from my drug-induced coma to a bizzare honking noise. Moose had brought his favorite toy, a duck he got for his birthday last week, to cheer me up, and we spent the next 20 minutes playing fetch until it devolved into "Forget you, it's my duck!" and I rolled back over and went back to sleep.

Several hours later, when my alarm went off to go to school, I discovered that my sheets, hair and walls were damp. Apparently the humidifier we're using is too powerful for the size of the guest room. It's now a sauna. We'll deal with that later. For now, we must build yearbook spreads and write lesson plans for next week so that we can visit the Armyman this weekend.

An open letter to myself, circa 2001

Hey little girl, yeah you, in the over-sized t-shirt, with the clipboard in your lap and your hair falling down into your face. Write that letter harder, honey. Tell them how you hate the war, how we're killing innocent people and how peace is the answer. Call your congressman one more time, even though they know your name, even though you can hear the eye rolls through the phone. I know you’re afraid they won’t listen, but you know, one day this war will be more than just an idea you don’t like. Write your letter, because on a day that seems forever away to you and a blink of an eye for me, the war that you’re writing against will stop taking strangers and take your sweet man. One day, your dream proposal will be from a terrified little boy trembling and asking if you’d like to marry him before he deploys. You will. So write harder, because maybe, just maybe if you do, someone will listen. Maybe if you write a little harder, they’ll keep him at home.