My First Act of Teenage Rebellion (No, it's not what you're thinking.)

My first makeup purchase was a CoverGirl foundation.

My parents didn't want me to wear makeup, especially my father, but I had acne breakouts as a young teenager, and I was really self conscious about it as a result.  I wanted to conceal the blotchy skin by wearing foundation.  So I saved my money, and one afternoon when I accompanied by grandmother and Aunt Judy to the grocery store in Finksburg, I snuck off by myself to the makeup aisle. 

 This CoverGirl commercial was popular then, and it was the look I wanted to achieve.

 

Once alone in the makeup aisle, I quickly scoped out the foundation selections, snatching the first bottle of CoverGirl Clean Makeup foundation I saw. I rushed to the check out line by myself, my heart pounding with adrenaline and worry. What if I get caught by my grandmother? What is she going to say? ( I assumed she knew about my parents' no makeup rule.) 

I felt like I was doing something very bad-- like I was going to be busted at any moment as the cashier rang up  my single item, me glancing around, scanning for my grandmother every few moments. I dreaded the woman making a comment that I was too young to buy makeup or inform me that I had to be sixteen (or not thirteen, anyway) before I was allowed to purchase makeup.  Worse, I feared the cashier lady would say something to the effect of "Does your mom know you're buying this?"

I gave the cashier my money; she made change. After handing me my receipt and the small plastic bag with my contraband makeup purchase, a wave of relief flooded my body. I did it! I would be looking good in no time. It would be a magical, overnight transformation! Angels would rejoice in heaven; I was sure of it.  

 

As I tucked the foundation purchase into my purse, feeling smug in that young, flippant teenage way that I just got away with a crime of epic proportions, my Aunt Judy suddenly appears as if out of nowhere. I was so concerned about my grandmother finding out about my rogue ways that I had forgotten about my Aunt Judy.  She asked to see what I bought and I handed over the incriminating evidence that I defied my parents, purchasing makeup that I had no business whatsoever buying.  I feared that she was going to take the bottle of foundation and either 1) return it right then and there or 2) confiscate it to use as evidence of my teenage rebellion.  Visions of being grounded for the next 100 years flashed in my mind.

 

Instead, she remarked that I probably bought the wrong shade, slipping the bottle of foundation back inside the bag. She carried on with the grocery shopping as if this was no big deal. (I should have known because Aunt Judy was always the cool aunt.)

 

Aunt Judy was right. (Of course she was!) I bought the wrong shade.  A rose beige tone (as I remember it) that was too dark for my porcelain skin.

 

Stubbornly, ridiculously, I wore it anyway, taking the extra time to try to blend it in. (Not that it helped, but in my mind it did.) I felt obligated to continue my rebellion by wearing it despite the foundation not being the correct match.  Do you know how long I had to save my money?  How long it took me to conspire to get alone long enough to make such a contraband purchase in the first place!? 

 

I despised my oily, blotchy, pimply, teenage skin and slathering it with CoverGirl Clean Makeup was the only way to cope. (It worked in the commercial so it would work for me, right?) I just wanted to look pretty. 

 

Finally, after months of this, my mother took me to a makeup artist in Eldersburg. The session was a birthday present. She was tired of me looking like I had mud smeared over my face.  Ouch.

 

All along, I thought I was in the clear since my parents never questioned me about it. I loved the makeup session. (Just so you know, the makeup artist tested several foundation shades on me and I was the lightest shade she had available, which my mom purchased along with an eyeshadow duo. Can you imagine how silly I looked wearing a beige foundation when I'm the absolute lightest shade of foundation available? Double Ouch. No, that's cringe worthy.) 

Still, all these years later, having that makeup session was one of the best birthday presents ever. I'm still looking for the ultimate foundation by the way. Now my skin isn't as oily as it was when I was a teenager, but it is as sensitive as ever. 

 

How old were you when you first started wearing makeup? What was your first act of teenage rebellion?

Ten Things You Don't Know About Me (Or Maybe You Do)

1) Sell everything, I want a horsey. I joke about this with my husband of 16 years ever since I started horseback riding lessons, which is something I've always been curious about but never had the means to do until recently. It's empowering and fun. Since I'm confessing about owning a horse, I'd also like to raise a small flock of sheep for their wool.  Oh, and include some chickens in for good measure too. And if I'm gonna raise sheep, then we need a livestock guardian dog and a llama since they make good livestock guardians too. (And so do donkeys just in case you were wondering.)
 

2) I've always wrote stories, even as a child. It's like I have a projector playing a movie inside my head. 

3) I crochet blankets for the Linus Project.

4) I embroider, though not lately.

5) I'm learning to quilt. Another one of those things I've been curious about and thought I'd save for later--like when I'm a grandmother.  Both my mother and grandmother quilt, so I thought I should take advantage of their knowledge and learn now while I can still enjoy their company.

6) I drink tea. Never coffee. Ever.

7) I love to play with makeup. Once upon a time, I considered becoming a makeup artist. Instead I graduated from Frostburg State University, earning a Bachelors of Science in English with a minor in writing.

8) Aside from tea, my favorite drink is milk. I know I'm supposed to say something sophisticated like wine, which I enjoy from time to time. But milk is my fave. (Come on, it does a body good.)

9) I hate most green vegetables, especially peas, Brussel sprouts, and asparagus. Lima beans, spinach, and kale. Yuck. I can tolerate broccoli if it's smothered in cheese. Green beans are okay with lots and lots of butter.

10) I adore the song Achy Breaky Heart by Billy Ray Sirus.  (The cheesey original version, not the latest incarnation between Billy Ray and Catch 22.)   

Under Construction

That's what I am: under construction. Or my blog is anyway.  I'm redesigning it so it truly reflects how I am as a person and a writer, trying to build a platform. Trying to be heard above the fray.  Trying to get published.

My new tagline is: Even the most distrustful heart can be redeemed by love.

Let me know what you think.

Thanks for your patience.

Sprout babies, part 2

Since my last posting, I've transplanted my lettuce and radish sprouts to larger paper cups.  I've also killed off two more lettuce sprouts.  At this rate, I'm not sure if I will have any lettuce to harvest.  I need to order railing "saddle planters," such as the two pictured below since I can't find them locally.

picture courtesy of Gardener's Supply Company

I just started my pepper and tomato seedlings today.  Exiting possibilities...

What's in your garden?

Sprout babies

I've got babies! Onion, radish and lettuce babies, that is.  They are pictured below, although it's not a very good picture.  I have six onions.  I started with six radish sprouts, but only three survived.  I started with twelve lettuce sprouts, but only six survived. I'm so glad I followed the advice of a magazine article and planted more than I need on the premise that about half will die off before I even got truly started.  They like to hang out in this sunny window.

sprout babies

a close up of a radish sprout

another radish sprout on the left and a lettuce sprout on the right.

I intended to plant the lettuce in my front flower bed, hidden among the ferns and the hydrangea because they would get sublime morning sun and afternoon shade--just what lettuce like.  Planting them in the front flower bed would have been my one act of subversion against our HOA rules that stipulate that all food gardens are to be grown in the backyard.  

Now, I'm reconsidering that plan, however.  If I plant them out front, I'm afraid the deer would eat the lettuce since they chomp on my hydrangea leaves as it is.  (Our suburban deer are bold.) And recently, we've noticed that something has been digging tunnels in the front flower bed and along the foundation wall of the side of the house.  I fear that animal--maybe a mole?--is already nibbling on the roots of my hydrangea and the tulip bulbs on the side of the house.  Why add lettuce to that animal's diet? 

Instead, I'm gonna get those flower boxes that mount on the rails of the deck and plant the sprouts in there. Next, I will start the seedlings for tomatoes and peppers.  And herbs, especially mint for sweet tea and basil for the caprese salad.  These seedlings should be ready to plant outside by Mother's Day.  

What have you planted in your garden?

Algebra? Geometry? Oh my!

A few months ago, I attended a parent meeting at Elias' elementary school. Six Title One teachers discussed the county's recent transition to the Common Core Curriculum. That night's meeting specifically focused on math.  Essentially, they were reviewing with the parents what math concepts they would be teaching the first graders and how they would be teaching those concepts.

These teachers patiently explained that Elias, my first grader, among other students, would be learning the basics of algebra and geometry.  It's better to start them early, they insisted.  The teachers also mentioned algorithms. They sprinkled their conversation with this word as if I should know what it meant.

I'm a college educated woman with a bachelors of science degree.  I had no freakin' clue what an algorithm was or how Elias was supposed to understand.  But I was too embarrassed to ask for a clarification, fearing I would be the only parent in the room who didn't understand.  The fear and awe that my first grader was going to be smarter than me by the time he got to the fifth grade loomed large in my heart--my bachelors degree be damned.

Here comes the flashback: In the second grade, my math teacher was named Mrs. Rose. She was an African-American woman with buck teeth and there was a gap between her two front teeth. She tottered around the classroom in four inch heels because she was a petite woman (even with the heels on).  She always wore very sensible, professional pant suits in subdued colors--navy, brown, or black.

She was teaching subtraction. She wrote a problem on the chalk board--something like this:

                                                               2001
                                                            - 1996

Mrs. Rose expected us to solve the problem in our head. We were not allowed to count on our fingers or use a scrap piece of paper.

I remember raising my hand to let her know that I didn't understand.  That I couldn't do it.  She explained the concept about borrowing from the neighbor number and carrying the one and so on.

I still didn't understand. Or maybe it wasn't that I didn't understand per se.  Maybe I understood it in theory, but couldn't do it in my head without counting on my fingers or writing it down on paper.  (Quite frankly, I still use my fingers to figure out addition or subtraction problems. Forget the multiplication tables. I've since forgotten those.  I digress.)

Anyway, I didn't understand.  I don't know how many times she explained it.  I don't remember. But what I do remember is this:  eventually, Mrs. Rose asked "What are you? Stupid?"

Yeah, she said that.  Out loud.  In front of the entire class.

I shrank in my seat.  I told her I understood when I didn't.  All these years later, my eyes fill with tears remembering this incident.  My gut  twists with shame.  Embarrassment.
 
Mortified.  Still.  After all these years.

This memory whooshes back to me while sitting in a tiny chair designed for a first grader, listening to six Title One teachers say things like "we want your kid to learn basic concepts of algebra, geometry. Algorithms. The Common Core curriculum will better prepare your student for life beyond school."

Yeah, sure I understand.  What am I? Stupid? 

Those same Title One teachers went on to explain that it is vitally important to not influence your child's attitude toward learning. If you hated math as a kid--don't let your kid know it because they will mimic that behavior.  They will learn to hate math too.

Yeah, sure I understand.  What am I? Stupid? 

Every time Elias struggles with his homework, I have to bite my tongue--literally--to prevent myself from agreeing with him that math is stupid.  Instead, I tell him that he must use his brain to puzzle out the answer.  That it's okay if he doesn't get it right the first time.  Erase it and keep working it out until he gets the correct answer.  Even if it takes 100 times.

That word stupid--it's banned at our house.

It's that time of year again--seed catalogs

Okay, y'all.  Get a cup of hot tea--any flavor will do, a blanket, your seed catalogs and curl up on the cozy couch and start shopping.  Or daydreaming.

Y'all know that I love my seed catalogs.  Johnny's Selected Seeds.  New this year is the Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds catalog.  Pages and pages of glossy photos of vegetables and flowers.  All the possibilities.

That's really what the seed catalogs hold: possibility.  The possibility of growing your own nourishment in your back yard. Or in my case my deck.  

Photo Credit: adamr from freedigitalphotos.net

But the truth is I won't be buying many seeds this year since I have so many left over from last year.  My attempts at growing radishes, lettuce, and peppers failed last year.  I started too late with the lettuce. I didn't plant the radishes deep enough or in a large enough pot.  The peppers didn't mature.  I had minor success with the tomatoes.  I think I got about 8 good ones, but I started too late with them too.

All those mistakes don't matter, though.  I'll keep trying.  I've got a better plan for starting seeds courtesy of an article in Heirloom Gardener Magazine.  And this time around I will actually take the advice of my Aunt Jane.  Like it's really important to harden off your seedlings.

Starting in February, I will start the seeds for the lettuce.  Then in March I will start the seeds for the radishes.  April will be the beginnings of the pepper and tomato seedlings.

Ah, the possibilities.