Instant Pot Perfectly "Boiled" Eggs

I can bake. I can roast. I can do all kinds of things in the kitchen. Unfortunately, though, I could not boil eggs. Really. I tried every method available: my mother's method, my grandmother's method, and every method that I could find through Google and on Pinterest. I tried ice baths, baking soda, vinegar, and all different ranges of time for boiling or steaming. Nothing worked for me. I always had to fight the sticking shells during peeling that left my eggs full of tiny craters and completely useless for deviling. I would always end up throwing in the towel and crumbling them for egg or chicken salad. Until now.

My wonderful husband gave me an Instant Pot and lots of accessories for Christmas this year, and I've made it my goal to go through all the settings, pressure cooking my way to kitchen bliss. Honestly, I have not used the stove to cook anything since I received my Instant Pot. I've made stews, soups, beans, quiches, rice dishes, roasts, and cheesecakes. Everything has turned out perfectly.

Finally, after several weeks of cooking in this miraculous kitchen tool, I decided to use it to "boil" eggs. I scoured the Internet and ran across the "5-5-5 Method" and decided to give it a go. I was simply planning to make chicken salad, so the end result of this trial run didn't matter to me since the eggs were going to be crumbled up anyway. However, the result was so beautiful that I had to take a picture and share it with the world. I will never boil eggs on the stove again.

The 5-5-5 Method for "Boiling" Eggs in the Instant Pot

Pour one cup of water into the inner pot and place the trivet or steam rack into the pot.  Arrange one dozen eggs (I only had 11 eggs, so that's what I used) on the rack.  Close the lid and set the pot to cook on high pressure for five minutes.  Once the eggs are done cooking, allow for five minutes of natural pressure release.  Finally, following a quick release of the remaining steam, remove the eggs and place them in an ice bath for five minutes.  After their ice bath, the eggs are ready for easy peeling!

Hopefully, your eggs are as beautiful as these pictured above. Now I want to devil them instead of crumbling them for chicken salad!

Pork and Sausage Jambalya (for the Instant Pot)

Before I get started with the recipe, I just want to clarify some misconceptions about Cajun food and Cajun cooking. It is a very different style of cooking from the more Creole, Spanish-influenced, New Orleans-style of cooking. Cajun cooking is influenced more by the French Acadians that settled in the area where I was raised and still live. Our food is brown, not red. Cajun cooking relies more on a roux or browning to start, which generally makes our dishes brown. New Orleans Creole-style cooking often calls for adding tomatoes or tomato paste to their dishes, making them red. To a Cajun, gumbo and jambalaya are brown. If a Cajun is making something red, it's a sauce piquante. Or spaghetti sauce. Or red velvet cake. My husband, who hails from the New Orleans area, often reminds me that my version of gumbo or jambalaya is not what he was accustomed to having when he was growing up. Well, he married a Cajun girl and lives in Cajun country, so he has to eat it the way I cook it, and if you're interested in this recipe, then you should be aware that you're making a Cajun jambalaya, not a Creole one--it will be brown, not red.

PREPARATION TIME: 10 minutes
SAUTE TIME: 30 minutes
INSTANT POT MODE: Rice/15 minutes/High Pressure

INGREDIENTS:
1/3 cup olive oil
1 1/2 - 2 pounds boneless country style pork ribs
1 pound smoked mild pork sausage
1 cup of chopped frozen seasoning vegetables OR
1/3 cup each of chopped yellow onion, green pepper, and celery
3 cups medium or long grain white rice
3 3/4 cups water
1 cup of water (for cooking down the meat)
1 teaspoon Kitchen Bouquet browning agent
Cajun seasoning (Tony Chachere's, Slap Yo' Momma, etc.)
Garlic Powder
Onion Powder
Paprika

PREP:
Cooking happens pretty quickly with an Instant Pot, so I suggest cutting and prepping before starting the cooking process to prevent burning the meat. Rinse and drain the rice and set aside. Cube the pork ribs and slice the sausage links. Fill a cup of water and keep it close by to add to the meat as it is sautéing. Chop the vegetables if you choose to use fresh over frozen. I usually use a frozen, pre-chopped seasoning mix to save time.

SAUTE:
Pour the oil into the stainless steel inner pot and set the IP to saute at medium temperature. Drop in the cubed pork fingers and toss with a wooden spoon to coat. Brown the pork thoroughly then add sausage slices. Mix the meat well then sprinkle with Cajun seasoning, garlic and onion powder, and paprika. Season to your preference, but I find that I need to add a little more when cooking in the IP than I would with traditional methods. The seasoning will cause the meat to brown and form what my grandmother called "gremise" on the bottom of the pot. When the meat starts to stick to the pot, pour in a little water, just enough to fill the bottom, and scrape the meat and scorched, brown "gremise" from the bottom of the pot. Continue to stir and watch the meat because, as the water evaporates, the meat will again begin to stick. Just add more water and keep cooking down the meat until tender or until the 30-minute sautéing cycle is complete.

PRESSURE COOK:
Add the chopped vegetables to the meat and stir to mix. Pour the Kitchen Bouquet browning agent into the 3 3/4 cups of water, stir, then pour into the pot with the meat and vegetables. Add the rice and more seasoning if you think you need to. Stir the entire mixture to evenly disperse the rice, then place and lock the cover on the pot. Set the mode to "RICE" for 15 minutes at the high pressure setting. Once the cycle is done, allow ten minutes of natural pressure release of the steam before pushing the quick release button. Once the pressure is fully released, remove the cover and stir the jambalaya. If there is excess liquid remaining, allow the jambalaya to sit, open for about five minutes. The excess will evaporate or be absorbed by the rice.

I hope this recipe works for you! If you try it, please let me know how it turns out!

Enter the Instant Pot

In the constant plight to juggle things more efficiently and effectively, I uncovered this not-so-secret tool of busy, working parents: the Instant Pot. For those of you who don't know, the Instant Pot is a multi-function pressure/slow cooker and electric skillet all rolled into one magic kitchen machine. I first ran across it when searching Pinterest for random recipes. I had used a slow cooker for many years but never ventured into the world of pressure cooking. Pressure. Steam. Hot. Fast. That all seemed a little frightening to me, so I didn't really research the tool any further. However, the more I saw people raving about it on Pinterest and Facebook, the more curious and more willing I became to try it out. I scoured Amazon for the model I wanted and the accessories I felt I could use for my cooking purposes, and luckily, in true loving-husband-fashion, the pot and accessories were gifted to me for Christmas. I was very excited to try it out. Being that I am off of work (well, free from being required to GO TO WORK) for the next week and a half, I have made it my goal to try out each function before school starts again. Can't wait to test the results!

I will share my recipes as soon as I can get them typed up and tested!

Stitch Fix Box #3 - February 2016

I know my last Stitch Fix box wasn't necessarily great--I returned three of the five items. This third box, however, was awesome! As I did with the first fix, I kept all five items sent to me. I was very specific with my feedback with the return of the other items on the second fix, and I made sure to fill up my request box with very specific descriptions of the things I had been hoping for. I also went into my shared Pinterest folder and made some updates. All of that communication paid off. Every item sent this time was exactly or very close to the exact item I requested. So here's what I got...

Brand: Market & Spruce
Style: Cordelia Striped Boat Neck Sweater
Cost: $58.00

I love this sweater. I usually wear a straight-lined fit top, and this sweater is more fitted at the bottom than I would prefer, but it's long enough to cover everything that needs covering. I asked for a black-and-white-striped sweater, and this is what I received. This sweater would look great with jeans or slacks, depending on how casual or professional I feel like being on that particular day. It's a very versatile piece, and I can't wait to throw it on over some leggings, accessorized with my tan scarf. I think it's going to look quite stylish!

Brand: Laila Jayde
Style: Valerie Heathered Raglan Top
Cost:$64.00

This pullover is just about perfect. The fit is great. The color is great. I even like the back of the top (which is solid black--different from the front and sleeves--not something I'd have picked out for myself). It's soft and comfy. I like it even better than the striped sweater that I mentioned above. If this top wouldn't cost so much, I'd probably sleep in it because I feel like I'm wearing a pajama top when I have it on. It's flecked with black, so it's not a solid wash of beige. I'm fair complected, and beige isn't usually flattering, but the color of this top looks good on me. I'll probably be wearing this piece a lot.

Brand: Skies are Blue
Style: Abba Plaid Top
Cost: $64.00

When I first pulled this shirt from the box, I wasn't too fond of the lace inserts on the sleeves. I did ask for a plaid shirt, so I tried it on anyway. Both my husband and sixteen-year-old daughter agreed (and they very rarely agree on anything) that the shirt looked great on me. So for that reason and to receive the discount for keeping all five pieces, I decided to hang on to it. I can layer it over a white tee with some jeans. I like the rose-colored accents. That, along with the lace, adds some femininity to a usually masculine article of clothing.

Brand: Just Black
Style: Cami Crop Jean
Cost: $78.00

The pair of jeans that were sent to me in the last fix were nothing at all close to what I wanted. My daughter went as far as to call them "mom jeans". These, however, are right on target. They are a much lighter, skinnier-legged, and shorter than the last pair. They're a little lower-waisted than I would prefer, but it's not so bad that I wouldn't wear them. I love the way they fit in the thigh and seat. I'm short, so the fact that they're meant to be "crop" jeans helps me. They're the perfect length for me to wear them as normal, ankle-length jeans. I like the wash, too. I already have several pairs of darker jeans, so I requested a lighter wash, and that's what I was sent. Love these. Maybe I'll put them on with that plaid shirt and my Chucks for a jeans day at work. I'll be comfortable and cute at the same time--two very rare qualities of fashion for women my age. These are NOT "mom jeans". Hehe.

Brand: Yosi Samra
Style: Samara Metallic Flats
Cost: $72.00

In my request for this shipment, I asked for a pair of leopard print ballet flats. I've had them on my wish list for a long time. These aren't those. However, I do love these. In her note, my stylist Hannah, said that she searched the warehouse for the print I wanted but couldn't find any. So she sent these instead because they are also currently "hot" right now. I think I like them even more than I would a leopard print pair. They are a little flashy but still neutral, so I can wear them with just about anything to which I would want to add some pizzazz. I had a taupe-colored pair of Tieks saved on my shared Pinterest board, and these are very close the the same style I saved there (and these cost much less). I did an Amazon search for these shoes, and I found pairs that ranged from $71.00 to $84.00, so what we've paid for them is more than fair since I never had to set foot in a store to get them. This is, hands down, my favorite item in this shipment.

So, all in all, to keep all five items was priced at $336.00. The 25% discount for keeping all of it subtracted $84.00 from the total, so it ultimately cost $232.00. That averages to about $46.00 per item. That's not too bad. Lot's of people complain about how much Stitch Fix marks up the pieces in their shipments, but I really do enjoy getting these boxes each month and getting nice clothes without having to shop for them. I think the extra cost truly is worth the hassle-free experience. I still recommend the process and give Stitch Fix two thumbs up!

To try Stitch Fix for yourself, click here.

Stitch Fix Box #2 - January 2016

Okay, I do have to admit that, because my first box was amazing, and I kept all five items, I was expecting the second fix would to be just as or even more amazing. I was disappointed, but it wasn't because I didn't like the items that were sent. Had the fits been different for a couple of the items, I would have kept all five again. Style matching is on point. Each piece was definitely something I would wear if they all fit properly. So, here goes...

Brand: Bancroft
Style: Leighton Metal Bauble Necklace
Cost: $34.00
This necklace wasn't bad. I may have worn it with open-front tops or necklaces. I didn't keep it, though. I sent it back. However, had I been keeping all four of the other items, I would have kept this, too, in order to keep the discount for keeping everything. It would have been worth it. Since I was already sending back a couple of other things, I sent this back as well. Just two months ago I dropped more money on jewelry at one Premier Jewelry party than I do in a whole year, so I figured I didn't really need any more necklaces. I did send a note back to my stylist with it, though: "I very rarely buy or wear actual jewelry. I am more apt to keep accessories like scarves, shoes, and bags or purses." So, I'm anxious to see what types of goodies come in Box #3.

Brand: Kut from the Kloth
Style: Kate Boyfriend Jean
Cost: $88.00
These went back. No question. I put them on, and they were too big in the waist, too baggy in the thigh and seat, and way too long. My sixteen-year-old daughter looked at me in them and said, "No way. Those are 'mom jeans', and you're too young to wear 'mom jeans'." Okay, I immediately decided that they go back. The quality of the jean is great. The style is nice. It just wasn't the right fit for me. For a taller, fuller-bottomed gal, they'd be perfect, but I have absolutely no hips. My legs are scrawny. These just did not flatter me at all. I left some very specific feedback with their return, and I'm still hoping for a great pair of jeans.

Brand: Margaret M
Style: Emer Jacquard Print High Waisted Cropped Pant
Cost: $98.00
Kept these. I received a purple pair just like these in my first box and sent the message to my stylist that I loved them and would keep every pair she could find and send me. Apparently she found another pair--even nicer style than the first pair. I love these. They fit perfectly, and they are extremely comfortable. If she sends another pair in the next shipment, I'll probably keep those, too. I just wish she could find a pair of jeans for me that fit in the legs the way these pants do. The price is higher than I would normally spend on pants, but these really are worth the extra cost.

Brand: Renee C
Style: Floren Split Neck Top
Cost: $48.00
This is one item that, had I seen it in the store, I would not have picked it up to try on. I'm not big on printed tops, but having tried this on and getting thumbs up from both my daughter and my husband, I decided to keep it. It's navy, and that color looks pretty good with my fair complexion. It's not extremely long, but it's long enough to cover my tummy that I hate. It's also loose enough to not cling to my midsection. It'll be great with a pair of white pants that I already have.

Brand: Market & Spruce
Style: Sawyer Space Dye Dolman Sleeve Knit Top
Cost: $58.00
I really liked this top. I liked the print and the sleeves. However, it was just slightly too tight. My daughter and husband both said that it looked great on me, but I just wasn't comfortable in it. I was more self-conscious of my tummy than I wanted to be. Plus, all it would take was one accidental run through the drier, and that would be sixty bucks down the drain because it would be too small for me to wear it. So, I packaged it up with the jeans and necklace and sent it back. I did send my stylist a note that I really liked everything about it but the size, so maybe she'll find a larger size and send it. I'd keep it then.

So, all in all, I kept two items--the navy top and the Margaret M pants that I absolutely adore. This fix cost my husband $121.00, so he got off easy this time, I suppose. I am still loving this process and am anxiously awaiting my next box in February. Since Christmas, my sister, my mom, two of my sister's friends, and two of my mom's friends have subscribed to Stitch Fix, and they all love their first boxes. I have seen some videos and blogs that are bashing Stitch Fix for their prices and mark-ups of items that would cost half the price of what they're tagging and sending to us in these boxes, and I just want to add that, yes, these items are more than what I would pay in a department store, but...

1. I am not the one out there in the stores fighting other shoppers.
2. I am trying on clothing items that I would have not ever tried on in a store--and I'm loving them.
3. Because I'm trying on styles that I wouldn't normally like, my eyes are being opened to new fashion options.
4. I now have a personal stylist that listens to and tries to fulfill my requests. And...
5. Having someone else worry about all of those stressful things for me is worth the extra cost. To me, it's really difficult to put a price on the comfort and ease of being able to try on clothes at home.

Even though I only kept two items in this fix, I still highly recommend this process to any woman who can afford it and is too busy to worry about fashionably dressing herself.

Subscribe to Stitch Fix here.

My First Stitch Fix Box - December 2015

I received my very first Stitch Fix box, and I am so pleased with what was inside! After my husband surprised me with the news of his Christmas gift to me, I was very happy to complete the online style profile and anxiously awaited the shipment. While waiting for my package to arrive, I scoured the Internet to read reviews and view images of what other women were posting about Stitch Fix and their own personal experiences with the process. I read posts by one blogger who wasn't too pleased but for some reason continued her subscriptions just to see what she would get--and she even kept at least one item per shipment. All of the other reviews were positive, and I hungrily read everything I could and looked at all the pictures that were posted. Mostly everyone agreed that, on the first try, you don't normally like everything that is picked for you by your stylist, but that, over time and through your comments and requests, your stylist learns your preferences, and your shipments get better and better each time.

My experience may not be typical, but I have to say that I LOVE EVERY ITEM THAT WAS PICKED AND SENT TO ME IN MY FIRST SHIPMENT! I made sure to carefully complete my style profile, I sent a message to my stylist telling her what fits I preferred and what parts of my body I like to hide, and I attached a link to my Pinterest fashion board where I pinned many, many things that I liked. What she sent me was SPOT ON! I hope, for the sake of my husband's bank account, that not every shipment is this awesome! Here's what I got:

Brand: Margaret M
Style: Emer Printed Straight Leg Pant
Cost: $98.00
My favorite color is purple, but in all honesty, if I'd have seen these pants on a rack, I would have passed right over them. However, since they were included in this package, I had to try them on. This was the best item in the box! Back in my younger days before children, I was a stick--no hips, no waist, just straight. Now that I'm older and overweight, I have an apple shape--I hate it. My waist and stomach are larger than my hips and thighs. It seems to me that this is the most difficult shape to dress. These pants, however, fit perfectly. They look awesome on me! I would never spend this much money on a pair of pants for myself, but if pricey pants normally fit like this, I guess I know now why I have never been happy with the way my clothes fit me. Because it's on my husband's dollar, though, and he said keep whatever I want, this pair of pants is staying! And getting worn often.

Brand: Renee C
Style: Huebert Space Dye Open Cardigan
Cost: $58.00
I have to admit that I am a cardigan collector. I have a bunch, and I feel like a woman can never have too many. Had this not been a neutral color, I may have sent it back, but it's grey, and that's the color of the season right now, so I'm adding it to my core wardrobe collection. All of my other cardigans are longer, covering my bottom, but this one stops at my hips in the back. The front is lower, so if I wear a longer shirt beneath it, the undershirt will show from the back. The cost is a little high for my taste, but if all five items in the shipment are kept, there's a 25% discount applied to everything, so it's worth that price I believe.

Brand: 41Hawthorn
Style: Lana Lace Detail Blouse
Cost: $58.00
This is another item I would've passed on in a store. I'm not a big fan of lace, and I'm definitely not a fan of any type of see-through material. This top, however, fits me great--the length is just long enough to cover the muffin tops that I vow to get rid of one day; the color is awesome--it's called "green", but I think it's more of a deep jade that doesn't make me look pasty and washed out; and it has just enough of the lace accent to have interesting detail without being gaudy. I believe this was my husband's favorite item in the box. Plus, it's very versatile: pair it with slacks and a jacket for work or formal wearing; pair it with jeans and flats for a more casual look. It's a keeper!

Brand: Kut from the Kloth
Style: Stefany Printed Slim Straight Leg Pant
Price: $78.00
Of the five items in the bunch, this pair of slacks was the one in question. The waist is a size too big, and the length is about three inches too long for my 5'4" height. I made sure to immediately go to my style profile and make the necessary size adjustments. They fit great through the hips and thighs, though, and the quality is remarkable. Again, I guess when you're willing to pay more, you get more. I was going to send these pants back, but my husband did a closer examination of the invoice, and he realized that keeping them would be more cost efficient than returning them because, with the 25% discount for purchasing all five pieces, we would save $82.50. So, instead of going back, these pants are getting hemmed, and I'm buying a thin, black leather belt. Besides, these look awesome paired with the 41Hawthorn Blouse mentioned above.

Brand: Octavia
Style: Raymond Plaid & Polka Dot Scarf
Cost: $38.00
Lastly, this beautiful scarf was the one accessory sent in my first package. I do have lots of scarves, but they're all pretty cheap, purchased from wholesalers or discount stores. This is the first high-quality scarf I have ever owned. I love it! It's thick, huge, and warm. It's also reversible: burnt orange and navy plaid on one side, navy with the dark orange polka dots on the other. I'm have it wrapped around me like a shawl as I type this, but I plan on wearing it later with some jeans and a white top when I run to the grocery store later. This may become my new casual go-to scarf for cool-day outings (very rare in Louisiana, I know).

So, all in all, the total of this first fix was $330.00, but with the 25% discount for keeping it all, it cost my husband $227.50 for this first installment of this year's Christmas gift that keeps on giving. He told me that, if this was going to be the average cost for keeping everything each month, I can keep it all each time, but I'm sure he's secretly hoping that I don't. I'm sure my available closet space is hoping the same thing. For this first Stitch Fix shipment, though, I am completely pleased and would recommend this to anyone. I did recommend it to several people already, and my sister went home right after and subscribed (thanks, Jen!). So, a huge thanks goes out to my hubby and my new stylist, Jama from Stitch Fix, for this awesome gift! I can't wait until January 11th, the scheduled arrival date for my next fix!

SUBSCRIBE THROUGH MY REFERRAL HERE.

My Stitch Fix Boxes

For Christmas this year, my wonderful husband gave me the Best. Gift. Ever... a subscription to Stitch Fix on his credit card! This may sound shallow to some, but I cried when he told me what he had done and instructed me to go online to complete my style profile. He was well-aware of the fact that I now dedicate my energy and money on my two daughters instead of myself. When it comes to making purchases for myself, I usually just provide myself with the most affordable bare necessities and dedicate what money I have to spend on clothes on my teenager and toddler. I'm sure most mothers are like me in that sense. So, as a year-long gift that keeps on giving, he purchased for me a subscription to a personal stylist and monthly deliveries of high-quality fashion that I would have never bought for myself. Though I have only experienced one shipment so far, I can say that I am completely pleased with this process of buying clothes! I love not having to go to a store and be disappointed with everything I slide my body into. I love being able to try on clothes in the privacy of my own home and scrutinize each item in my own mirror. Not to mention, having five items shipped forces me to try on everything in front of me--even some things I would have passed up in the store, thinking I would never wear anything like that. And when forced to try on everything in my first box, I found that the thing I would have been least likely to pick up off a rack in a store was the thing I loved most of all the pieces picked for me! Honestly, I love Stitch Fix, and I recommend subscribing to it, especially if you're a busy mom with little time or love for shopping for yourself.

Some Key Points about Stitch Fix:
1. You get to select and adjust your style/size preferences whenever you want through the website and app.
2. You get to select your price range and shipment preferences (how and when you'd like to receive a fix).
3. You can turn off your shipments and skip shipments if you want.
4. You have the opportunity to comment on and review each item whether you love or hate it.
5. You can make requests prior to a shipment through the app or website.
6. You can easily send back the items you don't want in the included prepaid envelope.
7. You get a style card for each piece with two suggestions on how to wear each item.
8. You earn a $25.00 credit every time someone subscribes under your referral link.

My First Box - December 2015
Box #2 - January 2016
Box #3 - February 2016


YOU CAN SUBSCRIBE TO STITCH FIX THROUGH MY REFERRAL HERE.

Literary Conflict Study: #The Struggle Instagram Activity

Talk about high interest, student engagement, and alternate assessments! All I had to say was, "Instagram", and my students were hooked. The activity required each student to create a visual representation illustrating one of the many conflicts within the novel Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury. They had to add hashtags describing the key ideas, characters, and types of literary conflicts expressed in their images. I printed and copied the template and made the digital copy available online for those students who wanted the color version of the file (they were responsible for printing that out on their own). They were allowed to either hand-draw their image or create a collage of digital images, and I received many of both types. I was easily able to assess their understanding of conflict, and it gave my brain and eyes a rest from grading multiple choice and constructed response tests.

I set up the display above on an empty part of my classroom wall. I laminated card stock then punched out the letters and pound sign/hashtag using the letter press we have at our district's media center. I printed the Instagram logo onto card stock and laminated that as well. I used twine tied to clothespins to create my hanging lines, and I hot glued it all to the cinderblock wall near the door. My students (yes, my high school students) were so excited to see their work displayed in the classroom! They so badly wanted to write tally-mark "likes" on their favorites, but I insisted they not block traffic into the room and promised that they'd be able to do that at a later time. They are requesting to do another one following the completion of our current novel study, and I'll probably oblige.

Get my Instagram Template here.

My Crafty Classroom Drawer Files

Now that I have finally settled in at a school from which I plan to retire, I have taken the time and exerted the energy required to turn my classroom into my home away from home. I probably spend more time in my classroom than I do in my own home, so the effort has definitely paid off. I love my classroom!

I am not the craftiest person out there, but I do love Pinterest projects as much as the next person. I even try some of the things I see pinned on the site. This is one of the projects I've seen posted by someone else that I figured I'd try. I've had these plain plastic file drawers in the garage for a couple of years, taking up space and collecting dust, so I decided to repurpose them into an organization area behind my desk in my classroom.

Here's how I did it:

Materials:
1. old (or new) plastic drawer set(s) with clear drawer fronts
2. scrapbook paper or any other kind of decorative or colorful paper you have lying around
3. printed scroll frame labels (see explanation below)
4. transparent tape
5. scrap or white paper to make a template

How It's Done:
1. Clean the drawers. Since my sets were covered in cobwebs, I used some disinfecting wipes to scrub them and prepare them for the tape.
2. Make your template. I used some white copy paper to measure, draw, and cut a template just the right size needed to cover the inside face of the clear drawers.
3. Trace and cut your drawer face backs from the decorative paper. Because I had nine drawers to cover, I picked three different patterns that matched the decor of my classroom (all three pages came from the same scrapbooking set I bought at Hobby Lobby), and I traced the template and cut three drawer backs from each patterned paper.
4. Make your labels. I did a Google search for "black scroll frames clip art" and picked one I liked. I then copied it multiple times into a Word document. I made nine copies of the image because I had nine drawers to label. Then I used text boxes to to layer the font on top of the image.
5. Glue your labels to the drawer backs. To make sure my labels were centered and in the right spot, I "eyed" the placement on one drawer before permanently gluing them down. Once I had one label glued, I simply lined up all of the other drawer backers beneath that one and lined up the labels on top of them, being careful to keep them in line with the centered sample I put together first. 6. Tape your labelled decorative drawer backing papers to the drawers. Using transparent tape, I positioned the papers inside the drawers and taped them down on all four sides.

Voila! You now have cute crafty classroom drawers!

If you choose to try this out for yourself, I'd love to see your take on the project! Please post a picture of your creation in a comment.

Dear RAW, Where Have You Been All My Life?

Several years ago I spent some serious money on a Canon T2i. It was a purchase that has paid off many times over. I took pictures of my own kids plus the other kids in the family. I've taken family portraits for my relatives, and I've even done some senior portraits for students who couldn't really afford to pay real photographers for sittings and prints. Because of my busy schedule, I never spent too much time experimenting beyond the automatic settings. However, I've recently been taking advice from friends and watching and reading tutorials on the Internet. I stepped out of my comfort zone, set the camera to RAW instead of JPEG, and I sure am happy that I did. I knew a few tricks in Photoshop: image and hue adjustments, stamping corrections, cropping, and resizing. I wish I'd have tried photographing in RAW before today. Editing would've been a lot easier. This is my first try at it, and I'm already impressed with the results--faster and simpler edits with an impressive, professional-looking image in the end. This image above is of my two-year-old, Abigail. My older daughter, Breelyn, and I threw a dress on her, made her walk around the backyard, and snapped a few pictures so that I could do some trial runs. I LOVE THEM! I'll be studying more about RAW so that I can get more photos like this one!

The Roadkill Metaphor

(My First MySpace Blog, 11/11/05)

If you have not experienced one yet, let me assure you that you will eventually in your lifetime come across moments that I refer to as roadkill incidents. While driving in Southern Louisiana, it is not unusual to spot a mangled mass lying bloody near the edge of a roadway--dogs, cats, skunks, opossums, and armadillos whose lives were cut short by passing traffic. From one hundred feet away, the carcass can be seen (and sometimes smelled) coming up in the distance. Of course different people have different reactions to situations like this. Some drivers keep their eyes glued to the wretched heap, hoping for the fleeting glimpse of mutilated innards and maggots, even going as far as to point out to their passengers that death is approaching, and they should check it out. I, on the other hand, am not into self-inflicted torture. I won't even flinch if my daughter is in the car with me, never mentioning it to her in an attempt to shield her, hoping that she won't notice the remains of the poor animal we are soon to pass. Instead of glaring at the blood, I face forward, concentrating on the road ahead of me and pretend that there's nothing there.

There are moments in life that are very similar to this situation: seeing an ex-lover with his or her arm around another more attractive than you are; sitting in a church watching your high school sweetheart marry your best friend; the only single friend you have left saying that he or she has finally fallen in love and has decided to marry while you're still struggling to meet someone half-way decent; your divorced parent snuggling with a stranger on the couch while you all watch a movie together. These are all roadkill incidents. You may not experience something exactly like these, but you will, I promise, experience something similar at least once in your lifetime. You see the mangled mess coming from a hundred feet away, and you have one of two choices to make: point and stare, waiting for the blood and guts or face forward, never flinching, and concentrate on the road ahead. My advice to you when the choice is laid in your lap: look away, man, look away. It's a lot less painful.

The Last Kiss

(Originally posted to MySpace 09/05/07)

"Stop talking about love. Every asshole in the world says he loves somebody. It means nothing... what you feel only matters to you. It's what you do to the people you say you love--that's what matters. It's the only thing that counts." (from The Last Kiss)

I'm no film critic, but I do know what plots interest me, with which characters I can identify, and which stories touch me on a very human level. The Last Kiss, starring Zach Braff, is the most recent addition to my list of all-time favorites. It's not a favorite because of funny lines or happy endings. I fell in love with it because of how truthful its portrayal is of love and commitment. Braff plays a thirty-year-old seemingly-happy man in a relationship with the perfect woman. When she announces her pregnancy, he suddenly panics, fearing the finality of his life with no future surprises. With a desire for something new fueling his panic, he cheats with a younger college girl. The movie deals with his struggle to realize that what he really wanted all along was the woman he'd been committed to and his determination to win back her love and trust after her discovery of his bad deed.

Tony Goldwyn, the director, said, "Our greatest aspiration for The Last Kiss was that it be emotionally honest [about] the themes of the film:
*The romantic ideal we set for ourselves in love.
*The reality we discover at having made a long-term commitment.
*The inexorable pull of our fantasies, of paths not chosen.
*The disorientation of having the foundation pulled out from under us when we least expect it.
*And the growth and renewal that are possible when we finally get honest with the people we love."

These are very real issues that people deal with everyday. When someone decides to make a commitment, all of the missed possibilities come flying out of the woodwork. Choices abound, but making the wrong choice can lead to terrible consequences, hurting the one person for whom the misdirection was never intended. All of the soul-searching and apologies in the world cannot always mend what was so carelessly and selfishly broken. The writers for this film Americanized the last scene by having her open the door, allowing him back in; but in the original, Italian version (probably the more realistic of the two), he's left sitting out in the rain, and the door is left closed in end.

Being that it's now after 3 A.M., and I'm still unable to fall asleep, I think I'll slide it into the DVD player and watch it again.


"You know, life is pretty much in the grays for the most part. If you insist always on black and white, you are gonna be very unhappy." (from The Last Kiss)

A Letter to My Teen Leadership Class

May 30, 2010

Prepping for my job interview tomorrow at a local high school had me digging through old documents from MCHS that have been stored on my ancient jump drive. Among all the quizzes, tests, and worksheets I created and saved back in those days, I ran across this letter I wrote to my Teen Leadership students for my end-of-the-year address, and I wanted to share it...

January 10, 2005

Dear Teen Leadership Family,

Now that our semester together has come to an end, I have a few personal hopes to share with you…

First, I hope you learned something about becoming a leader. The course was designed to do just that. Remember to have an “I can” attitude, maintain your W.I.T. way of thinking, and always make a good first impression (if you’ve forgotten how, review your eight cues).

Second, I hope being together has helped you learn more about other people. Before this class, you may not have associated with many different groups at school. I’ve heard you all say that you’ve come to accept and even appreciate the differences between each of you—differences help to make this world a very interesting place. Please remember to have tolerance for people who are not like you—being open-minded and accepting shows a strength that not everyone achieves.

Third, I hope you learned a lot about yourself. Self-awareness is a rare gift. Many people go through their lives not truly aware of themselves, their gifts, their emotions, and the effect they have on others around them. Know yourself. You are a very special person, and being able to recognize your talents and share them with the world will make you happy and help to satisfy your feeling of self-worth. Be yourself, and then be the best self you can be.

Finally, I hope you have developed relationships in this class that will last forever. I will always remember the wonderful things we’ve all shared, and I will always hold each of you very close to my heart. Each person in this class has touched me in a very special way, and I hope that I have had some influence on you, too.

Teaching this class has taught me many things. I’ve realized that first impressions are not always accurate. Not only have I been proven wrong about the impression my first experience with Teen Leadership left on me, but I have also realized that, despite the first impression each of you portray, you are all very kind, caring, young adults who have a lot to offer to the world. Please do your best to make this world better—you were put here for a reason… find that reason out and make it happen. That would make my years of teaching worth it, knowing that the nineteen students I taught during the fall semester of 2004 sought and reached the potential I knew they all had. I love all of you very much. I hope you remember me because I will always remember you.


Love,
Miss Brigola


My Teen Leadership Class, 2004

Breaking Fate: A Personal Essay

I am aware that I am not, by far, the first to express my opinion on the fairness of life. I have never written a classic tragedy, nor have I stirred souls with a sermon, professing the calamities suffered everyday by millions. I am no genius. I am not telepathic. I possess no qualities that rank me above the common man. I am just myself, a single person without extraordinary power. I must, however, due to circumstances beyond my physical control, tempt Fate to lay her worst before me if she chooses. If, by my words, I offend her, then let her will be done. I have already suffered enough, by my standards, to be an expert on her ways. So let it be said by me—and I accept full responsibility for my words—that Fate is a sullen and fickle woman. She plays cruel games with human emotions simply for her entertainment, then throws her head back and laughs at the aftermath.

Before continuing, I must put to rest a couple of misconceptions. First, Fate is not God. God is kind and merciful. God is understanding and forgiving. He has created a celestial resting place for human souls following the torture they must endure by the hand of that bewitching temptress. God has created us, we are His children, and like all well-meaning fathers, He watches over us and protects us. But, in order for children to become productive and independent, parents must allow them to exercise their free will. It is during this transition and growth that Fate creeps in and weaves her wicked spell. We humans, of course, are weak and easily fall prey to her vices. It is God who breathes life into us, it is by free will that we exercise our feelings and emotions, yet it is Fate that creates the circumstances in which we fall.

A second misconception is that Fate and Luck are one in the same. I have often heard people wrongly proclaim the greatness of Fate following an illuminating experience. One would gladly “kiss the hand of Fate” after scratching a lottery ticket or greedily raking in the winnings from a hand of poker. It is at times like these, though, that a person should be bowing down in thanks to Luck. Giving misdirected credit will not keep circumstances flowing in one’s favor. The next time someone finds a fifty dollar bill laying ownerless on the floor at the grocery store, he should pick it up, smile, and send praises to his lucky stars. It was not Fate’s hand afoot in this matter; he just happened to fall, for the moment, into Luck’s good graces.

Fate is not God, nor is she Luck. She is the venomous snake that wraps herself around the human heart and squeezes, forcing swells of tissue to stretch between her scaly rings, finally bursting into a torrent. She turns what was once innocent and trusting into a scornful and bitter heap. She turns indecision into regret, admiration into jealousy, and intimacy into a passionless craving for lust. She is the hand that dangles your dreams before you then wrenches them away after allowing you to come within reach. She is the voice that whispers softly behind you, never quite letting you fully understand her words. She is the oasis in the distance that, upon your arrival, turns out to have been merely a mirage. She is determined to fool us all. She promises to make us stronger, and never to destroy us. Her word "never", however, is in itself a promise, and my heart can no longer afford her lies.

Too many times I have entrusted my future and well being to Fate, and too many times I have been cast off as the martyr. I have been deceived and misguided, tricked and played for the fool. I have been handed cupfuls of joy only to have them clumsily turned over and spilled to the floor. Through the deepest recesses of my soul I have held tight to great expectations only to have them result in magnanimous failures. Fate has confused me. She has broken my confidence into prickling splinters of frailty and weakness. Her guiding hand has led me down paths of loneliness, paths of heartache and despair.

Fate has often cut me, deeply wounding me. She has left me contemplating the better of life or death. She has abandoned me many times in the deep pit of hell, leaving me gasping and out of breath from tearing away at the hole that trapped me. Fate often forced me to question God’s reasoning and ask why He would allow me to suffer. Why? What sins had I committed that were so disdainful that He would condone such punishment?

There were often times when I felt that there was no escape from this black serpent. So many times I have turned my back on her only to discover her dark shadow, once again, looming and hovering above me. Many nights I have lain sleepless, contemplating the evidence of Fate, and many nights I have been jolted out of nightmares with vivid recollections of her manipulations. I could not run or fly from her. I could not scream or cry the fear away. I had depended on and expected so much from her before that it was more than difficult to extract her from my life.

It was one morning, though, that I decided to take control of myself and my life. I did not run or hide. I did not fight or battle the evil of her. I simply chose, consciously, to be cavalier towards her. I ignored her offers. I pretended not to see the promises she laid at my feet. I no longer let her know of my desires—I kept them as sweet secrets for myself. This task was not easy. As I said before, Fate is truly a most mischievous and tempting wench. She will bait you and use all of her ploys to capture you. She craves your attention and pleads that you entertain her whims. Do not be fooled. Fate plays no favorites. She will look you straight in the eye and not think twice about breaking you, like she attempted to do to me.

I, however, was stronger than she. My dealings with Fate have lifted me to greater heights. I am now above the clamor, the ruckus, and can see things in a different light. I am now, after my flaying, capable of judging for myself, forming my own beliefs, and creating circumstances by my own intentions. Fate no longer plays a part in the day-to-day rituals of my existence. Things happen to me because I allow them. Things do not happen because I avoid them. I left Fate behind me, crawling around somewhere in that confusion that was once my life. From this moment on, the choices are my own, the results—good or bad—are my own, and that is the way it’s supposed to be.

(1999)

Melancholy

Melancholy

Allow me this moment
To be melancholy--
To throw away the niceties,
The compliments
And complements.

Allow me to undress
The corsets of my days,
To untie the corners of my smiles,
And just curl up
Inside my sighs.

Allow me to untangle from
The cordial sure's and fine's,
From the needs and needs and needs
Of everyone
But mine.

An Ice Cold Drink of Water

"An ice cold drink of water!" That's what Ron shouted to us as he walked out of the noontime sunlight and into the shadows of the bar. Jennifer, the daytime bartender, and I were the only two there, deep in discussion about the turmoils of relationships before our first customer came in--that customer being Ron. Ron Lavergn is a fifty-two-year-old divorcee, tall, gangly, and full of charm, never forgetting to tip his cowboy hat as he hands the nearest lady his signature carnation carefully constructed from a bar napkin. He is the epitome of a gentleman, always pulling out chairs, opening doors, and politely bowing after each dance. All of the ladies love Ron.

Before Jennifer could scoop ice into the foam cup she picked up to fill with water for him, he held out his hand to stop her. "I need an ice cold drink of water," he said with a smirk, "but I want a beer."

We three chuckled in unison as she popped the cap off of his Budweiser and set it on the bar before him. After taking a long swig from his bottle, Ron released a huge sigh, pulled the closest stool to me even closer, and finally sunk into the seat.

"Long morning?" I asked, assuming that his day so far couldn't have been too demanding since it was only noon, and he wasn't offshore.

"Long night," Ron replied. "I'm still drunk, and my goddamn ex-wife won't have sex with me!"

Jennifer and I threw each other a couple of curious glances as Ron lowered his head onto the bar's edge. With my hand I rubbed small, sympathetic circles on his back, and when he looked up at me pitifully, I flashed him a soft smile that faked concern. He sighed a second time as he lowered his furrowed brow onto the bar again.

"Okay, Ron. I'll bite," I started through a stifled giggle. "Why the hell do you want to have sex with your ex-wife?"

"Because we love each other," he stated matter-of-factly. He then sat up straight and turned to face me in order to continue the conversation. Before I could comment, he began again. "Have you ever been so close to someone that you knew what the other person was thinking or feeling by just looking into their eyes?"

I nodded to signify that I understood and had experienced such a thing, but my mind began backtracking over past relationships, searching through memories for instances to use as examples. Nothing stuck out to me.

Ron continued, "My wife and I used to go out or be at parties, in places full of people, and we could be on opposite sides of the room, but we'd catch each other's eyes, and in that short instance, we knew exactly what the other was thinking. It's a connection that you don't have with just anybody."

Jennifer pressed her elbows into the bar directly across from Ron and rested her chin on her folded hands, staring intently, waiting for him to finish his thought. I sat silently beside him, also waiting, but no longer maintaining the soft smile I held before.

"When you have a connection like that with someone," he almost whispered, "every touch, every kiss is electrified. The passion is so intense. That kind of passion is like an ice cold drink of water. When you're parched, and your throat is dry as hell from working out in the hot sun all day, every part of your body is crying out for that revitalizing glass of water, and that thirst, that dehydration forces you to kick that glass back and gulp at it like you're never gonna taste water again. It's an amazing thing, that ice cold water, when you need it so bad. You remember that damn drink of water for a long time."

My false concern melted into a sincere understanding, and the only thing I could do was look away from him and focus my attention on the bar's inventory list I had set in front of me only moments before Ron had stepped into the bar, silencing my venting session to which Jennifer was so graciously attending when just she and I were seated in the darkness. With an understanding of her own, Jennifer winked at me, and presented that same grin I had given to Ron earlier.

"There are other women, you know," Ron said with more animation. "Y'all have seen me here with my lady friends."

I nodded again to let him know I was still paying attention even though I was no longer looking at him.

"And each one of those ladies can say that I treat them well. They each have one hundred percent of my attention when I'm with them, and I like each one. I really do." He lowered his voice a little and continued, "but not one of them has a connection with me like my wife does, and damn her for not having sex with me. The two of us, when we have sex, we're great. We're on fire. That passion is there, that connection is there, and after all this time in this hot sun, I just needed that drink to tide me over, you know?"

This time I was too distracted by the stinging behind my eyes to nod in agreement. Noticing my momentary inability to communicate, Jennifer seized the oportunity to practice one of the attentive bartender skills I'd suggested to her during her training and placed her hand on Ron's arm and sympathetically tilted her head to show that at least she was still interested in listening to him wax poetic about the unmatchable relationship he shared with his ex-wife.

"Get me another beer, please, Hon," he said in response to her concern, lifting the bottle to examine its emptiness. As she walked over to the cooler in order to fulfill his request, I hurridly grabbed my keys and my inventory list and stood up beside him. Always being the genlteman, Ron rose from his own stool and bowed deeply before me. I smiled weakly and touched his shoulder to suggest to him that hugging me was acceptable, and he conceded.

"I hope your wife gives in," I said half-jokingly.

"Me, too," he agreed, leaning down to kiss my hand.

"I'm off," I shouted to Jennifer who was setting Ron's next beer on a fresh napkin for him since his first napkin was now laying on the bar, newly transformed into the fluffy flower we always find when he's been around. "Call me if you need anything."

"Alright," Jennifer replied. "And you can call me," she shouted as I turned towards the exit, "if you need anything."

I raised a short wave behind my head to let her know that I heard her, but I didn't say anything. The stinging behind my eyes had traveled to my throat, tightening the muscles there, strangling any words that may have tried to escape. I stepped outside into the brightness of the day, cupping my hand above my face to shield my adjusting eyes from the glare reflecting off of the windshields of the three vehicles in the parking lot. I climbed into my car, immediately rolling down all four windows to release the blanket of heat that had collected there throughout the hot and muggy Louisiana morning. Before sliding the key into the ignition, I sat back against the driver's seat, beads of sweat already collecting on my forehead. For several minutes I sat there in the choking sun, staring at the entrance to the bar until fragile streams of perspiration broke, trickling down my nose and the sides of my face--a much-needed distraction from a plaguing feeling that had crept into my chest. I was thirsty.

Damn the Backpack!

I had to go to the bike shop the other day to pick up a backpack I had ordered a few weeks ago. No telling how long it had sat there, but the saleswoman gave me a call Thursday morning to remind me I had wanted it. I hadn't forgotten about it, I just didn't want it anymore... but I didn't tell her that. I figured that it was already paid for, maybe one of them could just take it home with them or give it to a needy biker or something. I just didn't really feel like driving all that way to pick up a gift I had purchased too hastily. I didn't tell her that either.

So I got in my car and drove there, the whole way cursing myself for all the stupid purchases I made this last month that were totally wasted... the backpack; the corset/garter/thigh-high/high heels ensemble--that crap alone set me back a couple hundred dollars; all the ingredients and the 3 and 5-shaped pans to make that damned chocolate peanut butter cake thing I had to research how to make. And here I was now, wasting at least thirty bucks in gas to pick up a backpack that is no longer wanted. I felt so stupid, but I was too mad to cry about it. So I drove on, made the left onto the highway, and wondered what the chances would be that I might pass him on the road. Then I felt sick. I didn't want to see him... even by accident. Then I wondered what I would do if I happened to run into him at Wal-mart or something. Then I felt really sick. The sun was bright, though, and it was hot. Really hot. So I cranked up the A/C, turned the music up louder, and told myself to stop being so stupid. I was too mad to cry. And I drove on.

I wanted that night to be so special. I could tell him over and over that he meant everything to me, and that I loved him more than I had ever loved anyone before, but I wanted to show him that I did. I wanted to treat him to a beautiful dinner and have the waitress bring out my special cake (I even called to make sure I could drop the damned cake off early so that he wouldn't know about it beforehand), and I searched everywhere for a dress to wear that would cover my new corset with the ruffly panties that looked almost exactly like that crazy outfit from Blades of Glory... he really liked that outfit. I thought about picking up a bouquet of flowers and a box of candy to give him at the door when I went over there. It's kinda cheesy, I know, but I thought it would be cute. Then I remembered the sand on my feet from the beach trip I made that day instead of baking a cake, and how I cried myself to sleep that night instead of dancing around in my pretty pink corset. It was too long a drive for me to be making by myself that day with all of this stuff so fresh in my mind, but I drove on anyway. Still not crying, but not so mad anymore.

Then I thought about Kansas. My daughter would be flying there in a week to visit her father, and I had to drive her to Houston to catch her plane. That's at least a three hour drive. The drive to the bike shop is only an hour. Three hours to Houston and three hours back. By myself in the car. Lots of time for thoughts to roll around in my head. I better bring Kleenex. But I didn't need Kleenex now... I wasn't going to cry over this. At that instance I formulated a plan: burn it. Yeah, burn it. I was going to just march on into that shop, grab the damned thing, throw it in the back of my car so that I didn't have to look at it too long, then set the bitch on fire once I got back to my house. I was mad again.

I finally pulled into the parking lot and jumped out of my car. I think it took me about ten seconds to go from raging scorned woman with an urge for arson to a pathetic waste of skin... by the time I reached the door to the shop I had that uneasy feeling in my gut. Don't cry. Don't cry. Pull yourself together, dammit! I knew she was there--that same girl that helped me when I first walked in there, desperately searching for that bag because the only one on eBay was no longer available. She showed me a blue backpack... "No", I said. "It has to be Suzuki." She showed me a black Suzuki backpack... "No", I said. "It has to be blue. It's the blue one that goes with his bike." "What kind of bike does he have", she asked. I laughed and said, "Suzuki." I knew I was out of my element then. I had no idea what kind of bike we were talking about--a crotch rocket. "It's blue and white with a red R on it." She pulled a blue t-shirt off of the rack and pointed out the emblem screened on the front of it. "Does it look like this," she asked. "Yes! That's it! GSX! That's the one. I need the packpack for that bike!" She said she didn't have one in the store, but she could order one if that's what I needed. I agreed to that and followed her to the counter and watched her as she flipped through the pages of a catalog. As she looked up the item number I told her how happy he was going to be because he loves his bike and he told me that he wanted this for his birthday and I was so worried because I thought I wouldn't be able to get one because the only one like it on eBay had already been bought and the Suzuki site didn't have the exact one I was looking for because all they had was the plain old backpack with no helmet carrying thing on it.... then she stopped and looked up at me from the catalog. She showed me a picture of the backpack and told me that this GSX-R techpack has no helmet harness either. "Then that's not the one," I said. "He wants the one with the thing to hold the helmet. That's the whole point. I can't order this one. That's not what he wants." She turned the catalog around towards me, and I furiously flipped through it, scanning for anything blue that resembled a backpack, pausing for a moment at one picture then another. I couldn't get him something he didn't want. He wanted the damned backpack that could hold his helmet. "This is important," I told her. "He told me exactly what he wanted and I need to find it." She giggled a little at my desperation then pulled out a couple more catalogs. I guess she understood. We finally found it... the blue Hayabusa backpack. Not the same bike, but a blue Suzuki backpack with a helmet thingy. And as she keyed my request into the computer I went back to the rack to pick up that t-shirt she showed me. "Here, ring this up, too. Since the backpack isn't really the same as his bike, I'll get him this shirt. He's got blue eyes, it'll look really good on him." And she took my money. Damn the backpack!

I think I hesitated at the door for a moment. I must've been lost in thought or got nervous or something. I thought I might just turn around, but a salesman opened the door for me, so I walked in and straight to the counter. Yep, there she was, the same girl: "What can I help you with?" I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I choked back the burn in my throat, cleared it with a small cough, and said, "Backpack. You called me this morning about the backpack we ordered." "Oh! I got it! I got it!" She pulled it out from under the counter and held it above her head. "Ta Da! Here it is! It is a nice one. Better than the first one we looked at." Great. She remembered. I felt so foolish. I just wanted to choke her for being so happy about it, but it wasn't her fault. I was so happy about it, too, just a couple of weeks ago. She laid it on the counter in front of me, still in it's clear plastic bag. It smelled new. I opened my mouth again to say something but quickly closed it again. Don't cry. Don't cry. I couldn't look her in the face. Maybe I should just turn around and walk out. Leave it there. She doesn't know me. Wait... she has my number. She called. Dammit! Damn the backpack! I knew I shouldn't have, but I put my hand on it. I touched the plastic bag that covered it. Then I looked at her. I want it. I want it. But I didn't tell her that. I could have easily said thanks and taken it home with me to burn, but I didn't want to burn it anymore. I wanted to take it out of the bag and hold it. I thought I could hold it really close to me for a few minutes, then put it back in the bag. I could just throw it on his doorstep. I knew he wanted it. I wanted to give it to him. It was his birthday present. She held my gaze for a moment, saying nothing. I want it. I want it. Just take it. I opened my mouth to say thank you, but again, nothing. My bottom lip started to tremble. Don't cry. Don't cry. Just take the damned thing! Damn that fucking backpack! Her energetic smile faded and she whispered, "Do you still want it?" I want it. I want it. But I didn't tell her that. "He..." I choked out. He doesn't want me! He doesn't want me! I wanted to scream at her. I wanted to tell her to shove the fucking backpack up her ass and go home to her fucking husband who would hold her fucking hand and kiss her and never make her feel like I felt right then.

But I didn't say any of that to her. Instead, I remembered how I told him I wanted a bicycle for my birthday, and how when I saw it with a balloon tied to it at the party they threw for me at work, for an instant, I thought that he had taken the night off and showed up at my party to surprise me, and I even asked everybody if he was there and I didn't see his car outside. But the bike wasn't from him. "No," I said softly, "I really don't need it anymore."

I took one last look at it: new, flat, no creases from anything being stuffed into it, sealed tightly in its shiny plastic shell. "I'm sorry you went through all the trouble, and I know it was a special order. So keep it. Maybe you can sell it and make double the money on it." I didn't even look at her. I just turned around and walked as fast as I could out of the door. Don't cry. Don't cry. I repeated my mantra as a hot tear streamed down my cheek. Get in the car. Get in the car. Go home. I couldn't think of anything else to do. Another tear. Don't cry. Don't cry. Seven years, I thought. Seven years. I closed the car door and started the engine. It took me seven years to be able to love someone after sperm donor. Seven years to get over a man I spent a year with and only half-way thought I loved. I was young, I was stupid, and I only thought I wanted to be with him. Seven years! This is a man I absolutely adored and wanted to spend the rest of my life with! Seven years! Don't cry. Don't cry. I can't be miserable for seven years. I'm not young anymore. In seven years I'll be forty. Go home. Go home. Damn that fucking backpack! I turned off the engine. I sat there. And I cried.