I remember when I learned music in school, my teachers drew stave lines on the blackboard with a handy little wire gadget in which you insert five pieces of chalk, parallel to each other, and hey presto! 5 parallel lines = music stave.
But times have changed. And now we use whiteboards instead of blackboards. And no one has a handy little wire gadget that holds whiteboard markers instead of chalk. Which means I have to draw them by hand because metre sticks have gone out. And it’s messy. Which offends my sensibilities.
Of course, if I had unlimited budget and a very short wishlist for next year I could look like that lady at the top and buy one of those boards that have permanent staves, except bigger. But I don’t have unlimited budget and my priority wishlist is looooooooong and my classroom is small and that’s just not in the cards.
They need to bring those wire thingies back. Sometimes, simple was it.
What would you bring back if you could?
- Jean AAR
Now, I know you can interpret the title two ways: One, I really need to get out more; or Two, I’m incredibly shallow. But the truth is plain and simple – a good haircut makes me feel like a million dollars. I was, literally, bouncing out of the hairdresser’s. I was doing the hair swish thing (see Prince Charming). I was looking in store windows to check it out. I was having my moment of supreme vanity.
Although we live more than 200 miles from Munich, we are Bavarians, so this year, we did what all Bavarians (in my husband’s opinion it’s an act of patriotic duty) should do: we visited the Oktoberfest. In order to avoid the sad crush of the weekends, we scheduled our work so we had an afternoon off, jumped on the train, and off we were. 
I have a new home for the next several months, and that home is the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea. So far it hasn’t rained, I’m still irritated with the exchange rate, and I’ve gotten much better at crossing the street. I’ve gone on several strolls through Hyde Park, walked through Mayfair, and had a lovely time envisioning London of the 19th century, as depicted in so many of my favorite romance novels. Next up: the Tower of London!
As the weather warms up, it seems as if most of the DC area is beginning its weekend treks to the beach. Every Friday, on my way home, I-95 South is clogged with RVs, boat trailers and cars packed full of suitcases. The exodus has begun. Many people equate the beach with fun, laying out in the sun, the smell of suntan lotion, partying and more. For me, there’s something more elemental about it. Whether I’m going to the beach or to the lakes, something about the water draws me. 
Way back in March or April (I don’t remember exactly when), we put out house on the market because we plan to build in a new neighborhood outside of town. Unfortunately, our house hasn’t yet sold. At first, I was okay with the fact that it didn’t sell immediately, but now I’ve reached frustration mode. 
Heather recently posted about things we don’t want to do, and quite a few replied that shopping for clothes fits neatly under this category. I’m going to expand on this theme and add that shopping for evening gowns definitely, undeniably, irrefutably stinks.
I have decided that I am going to learn how to knit. I knew once upon a time, years ago, but I’ve since forgotten. My mom’s co-worker is going to cast me on and teach me tomorrow. The reason I’m learning is because I have trichotillomania, an anxiety disorder similar to OCD that makes you pull out your own hair. (I know it sounds strange, but if you’d like more information visit the 
