House on the Rock

Another fall break has come and gone. I felt noticeably less desperate for it this year; credits of course to our gracious God, my relatively VERY well-behaved students, and the restfulness that comes with no longer being a first-year teacher. Nonetheless, a week of nothingness was much anticipated and we eagerly awaited the small-scale adventure that might present itself within the Hoosier State boundary lines. Joe took off to Bloomington for another disappointing almost-win by the Cream and Crimson. He enjoyed time with his siblings and I plopped myself in front of the TV with a sky-high stack of grading that I was determined to knock out before the actual fall break week had begun. I was unsuccessful but knocked out period 2, which on that day, felt like enough. We went to church on Sunday and prepared to journey southbound for a two-night stay at the Brown County Inn, a quaint and rustic Priceline find tucked right in the heart of Nashville. Temperatures plummeted for our getaway, ...

I seldom find myself more insecure than the moments I'm exploring Pinterest. The DIY doom-scrolling triggers more feelings of inadequacy than Facebook and Instagram combined. I'm coming to the blogsite today after not one, but two botched wooden canvases. For some reason, I still haven't come to terms with reality that I'm not crafty. I really can't paint. My calligraphy looks okay on a chalkboard but the second it is put on a canvas or an easel, it's elementary. And I get paint everywhere. And I get furious. So I move on from painting, and then I think, "maybe I'll redecorate our apartment!" I quickly find I'm worse at that than painting, and my garage-sale pink poufs can attest. All this time of saying I would "refurbish", and yet every single one of our guests still traces the zebra-print pattern because I never figured out how where to even buy the right fabric, let alone attach it to the pouf.  And then, what seems like the best ...