Regift off

I arrived at school this morning to find the head teacher wearing a nice
suit. He usually lives in a track suit. So, I commented ,"Heeeeeey, nice
suit."

Followed by...

"Shit! It's faculty photo day isn't it? SHIT SHIT SHIT!"

Of the four official faculty group photos I've posed for I think I was
correctly dressed for one. I consistently forget what day they are. I
suspect that one year was a fluke. This forgetting is always made worse by
the fact that I am always in the front row, where I cannot hide my sneakers
or jeans. My sweaters and turtlenecks this time of year mean that from the
waist up I'm fine...today I'm in a black turtleneck and lime-green yoga
pants.

This time one of the older office ladies insisted on me taking her
iridescent lilac jacket, long black velvet skirt, a beaded necklace and two
large beaded clip-on earrings. The office ladies are always in the back row
where you can't see them below the shoulders. I got changed and we sat for
the photo this morning.

Prior to lunchtime I made a quick trip home (and to the post office) and
grabbed one of the gift baskets I keep on hand for gifts/regifting and
something from the "good items for regifting" stash. It was at item I had
thought to regift to Goto Sensei at my on-paper school, but I fear that any
gifts to Goto will redouble her own gifting campaign. Goto Sensei has thus
far sent me home with a huge Ziploc baggie of pickled plums, a kilo of
freshly harvested rice, a liter of keiffer yogurt, and various sweets. So,
I brought the gift back to our office lady.

She attempted to refuse it. I made it very clear that I would not be letting
her out of the corner by the sink until she took the thank-you gift.

She then tried to spilt it with me.

No go. It's hers.

She then asked if I liked beads, and I said sure...I like beads.

She attempted to get me to take the beaded necklace and clip-on earrings
from the morning.

I couldn't. I currently have one hook of necklaces with a post-it note above
them. Any that go unworn before the New Year will be sent to one of you who
have girl-children over the age of 3 who might want random items for
dress-up. Yndy, I may need your mailing address soon.

I don't know if it is over yet. I'll wager money that the OL attempts to
bring me a gift in the next week and won't take no for an answer.


Sometimes the package faerie wonders why I don't give more things away. This
is why. It can be a battle. Often the kindness is repaid by more
gifts...sometimes those deadly loaves of bread with plastic arteries of
cream cheese I so hate, sometimes with more clutter. It is work.

Regift off

I arrived at school this morning to find the head teacher wearing a nice
suit. He usually lives in a track suit. So, I commented ,"Heeeeeey, nice
suit."

Followed by...

"Shit! It's faculty photo day isn't it? SHIT SHIT SHIT!"

Of the four official faculty group photos I've posed for I think I was
correctly dressed for one. I consistently forget what day they are. I
suspect that one year was a fluke. This forgetting is always made worse by
the fact that I am always in the front row, where I cannot hide my sneakers
or jeans. My sweaters and turtlenecks this time of year mean that from the
waist up I'm fine...today I'm in a black turtleneck and lime-green yoga
pants.

This time one of the older office ladies insisted on me taking her
iridescent lilac jacket, long black velvet skirt, a beaded necklace and two
large beaded clip-on earrings. The office ladies are always in the back row
where you can't see them below the shoulders. I got changed and we sat for
the photo this morning.

Prior to lunchtime I made a quick trip home (and to the post office) and
grabbed one of the gift baskets I keep on hand for gifts/regifting and
something from the "good items for regifting" stash. It was at item I had
thought to regift to Goto Sensei at my on-paper school, but I fear that any
gifts to Goto will redouble her own gifting campaign. Goto Sensei has thus
far sent me home with a huge Ziploc baggie of pickled plums, a kilo of
freshly harvested rice, a liter of keiffer yogurt, and various sweets. So,
I brought the gift back to our office lady.

She attempted to refuse it. I made it very clear that I would not be letting
her out of the corner by the sink until she took the thank-you gift.

She then tried to spilt it with me.

No go. It's hers.

She then asked if I liked beads, and I said sure...I like beads.

She attempted to get me to take the beaded necklace and clip-on earrings
from the morning.

I couldn't. I currently have one hook of necklaces with a post-it note above
them. Any that go unworn before the New Year will be sent to one of you who
have girl-children over the age of 3 who might want random items for
dress-up. Yndy, I may need your mailing address soon.

I don't know if it is over yet. I'll wager money that the OL attempts to
bring me a gift in the next week and won't take no for an answer.


Sometimes the package faerie wonders why I don't give more things away. This
is why. It can be a battle. Often the kindness is repaid by more
gifts...sometimes those deadly loaves of bread with plastic arteries of
cream cheese I so hate, sometimes with more clutter. It is work.

Crafting for winter.

I'm taking it easy on the wrist, no complicated crafts.

Alas, my flannel pajamas with the penguins on them are near death. I can ill afford to be without pajamas. I seam ripped the almost threadbare bottoms of my pjs and am now constructing new flannel-lined pajamas. They have to be lined because the fabric that I found isn't warm enough. I need to go back and get some more top fabric because I underestimated how much I'd need. I finished the pants lining today. I do love my serger. It took about 10 minutes.

Behold, my fabric:

( Grooovy )

Dean Mommy will also be contributing to my winterwear. Today's email tells me:


I sent you a package yesterday. I found a gift for you at a local artisan show. I hope that you enjoy it. Will soon be followed by some very warm moccasins that I am making for you. (Be forewarned.)

Readers new to my blog can be forgiven for wondering why moccasins made by my mother are something I must be warned about. They might even wonder if my hand crafting is something I learned from my mum.

My mother is not gifted in crafts, but this does not stop her. She has taken up knitting and will attack a ball of yarn until it is long enough to be a scarf or square enough to be an afghan square. If the result is in-between or amorphous it is stitched around some catnip and becomes a toy for Ozma, her cat.  If you click on the mother tag you'll learn more.

But she is my mother. In the same mail she notes:
"I hope that you can keep busy and happy enough to pass through the Four Evil Dark Months. I am in a pretty good depression-fending-off knitting, photo, reading binge myself. Bought some equipment to cut my own mats. "

Crafting for winter.

I'm taking it easy on the wrist, no complicated crafts.

Alas, my flannel pajamas with the penguins on them are near death. I can ill afford to be without pajamas. I seam ripped the almost threadbare bottoms of my pjs and am now constructing new flannel-lined pajamas. They have to be lined because the fabric that I found isn't warm enough. I need to go back and get some more top fabric because I underestimated how much I'd need. I finished the pants lining today. I do love my serger. It took about 10 minutes.

Behold, my fabric:

( Grooovy )

Dean Mommy will also be contributing to my winterwear. Today's email tells me:


I sent you a package yesterday. I found a gift for you at a local artisan show. I hope that you enjoy it. Will soon be followed by some very warm moccasins that I am making for you. (Be forewarned.)

Readers new to my blog can be forgiven for wondering why moccasins made by my mother are something I must be warned about. They might even wonder if my hand crafting is something I learned from my mum.

My mother is not gifted in crafts, but this does not stop her. She has taken up knitting and will attack a ball of yarn until it is long enough to be a scarf or square enough to be an afghan square. If the result is in-between or amorphous it is stitched around some catnip and becomes a toy for Ozma, her cat.  If you click on the mother tag you'll learn more.

But she is my mother. In the same mail she notes:
"I hope that you can keep busy and happy enough to pass through the Four Evil Dark Months. I am in a pretty good depression-fending-off knitting, photo, reading binge myself. Bought some equipment to cut my own mats. "