FTY: Day One

Day One as an FTY.



I don't got no manicure.

Why waste the money, when this is what my arms look like?



I ain't got no manicure, and I've got me a bad case of glove arm.

The dye collects where the gloves stop.

It's attractive.

Guys dig it.



I'll tell you what else I've got: another couple o'skeins for my inaugural CYSD stocking.

Lilypad.



I've been on a green kick lately.





What you don't see here are the 420 million other skeins of yarn I dyed today. They're purty. 

Being an FTY is not good for the hair, or the skin, or the nails, or the clothes.

But it's fun anyway.

The end of an era.

Today marked the end of an important era in my life.



This is the desk I sat at for years as I planned lessons and graded papers.



This is where I made many Powerpoint presentations for my students, emailed parents, and typed up assignments.

Like many large American high schools today, teachers often have to share rooms because of space constraints. I taught in different classrooms during the day, but always had this office space to come back to.

This is where students could come find me to ask questions about the 14th amendment Due Process Clause or the roles of interest groups in American government.

This is where my colleagues would come to ask me a random question about the Great Lakes or synthetic motor oil or the middle name of Britney Spears' younger son, and see if I knew the answer.

This is where I brought twelve years of teaching experience to the table, where I talked students down off emotional ledges, where I administered makeup tests, and just last week, where I informed a senior varsity basketball player that he wouldn't be eligible for the rest of the season because he failed my Law class. Not every moment of teaching is triumphant.

This is where I came when I got up before sunrise each day, where I looked out the window and crossed my fingers that it would snow, where I shut the window when I discovered a hornet's nest living in the eaves just outside.

This is where I laughed with my friends every day, where I played practical jokes, where I yelled, "NOT IT!" every time the phone rang.

This is where the papers piled up, where the student projects overtook my shelves, where I put my feet up while grading the 180th essay of the day.

This is much cleaner than it normally was.



This is what my office looked like after I finished cleaning it out today.

This is where I turned my head and swabbed at the tears beginning to form, pressing hard so they wouldn't have time to run down my face.

This is where I hugged the 13 other members of my department, good friends, allies, and talents.

This is where I typed my leave form, letting my supervisors know that I would be taking a hiatus from the classroom at the end of the semester, when students change teachers anyway, and when the impact on my school would be minimal.

This is where I met with my replacement, handing over years and years worth of materials and hard work.  Where I talked about how to teach the difference between fiscal and monetary policy.

This is where I said goodbye to an era, the era of High School Teacher.

This desk was my home for a good time, a good long time. This school was my home for more than half of my teaching years.

Today I am mourning the end of an era.

Tomorrow begins a new era, the era of Full Time Yarnista.

Today was hard, but tomorrow will be better.

Full Time Yarnista, I like the sound of that.

I dare you.

I dare you to make these.



Double dog dare you with whipped cream and cherries.



Behold, Carassius, the Socks of the Kissing Fish.



I will send a skein of yarn to the first person to make these and send me a picture of both completed socks. The colorway doesn't matter, although I would recommend a light-medium solid or semi-solid. Beads or no, doesn't matter. 

They're kissing goldfish, who wouldn't want a pair of these? They could represent you and your sweetheart, they could represent you and your little one, they could represent your real life Carassiuses. (Carassi?) 

Your time begins now: 8:37 pm on Sunday, January 24th. If you don't already have a copy of this pattern (which is amazing, painstakingly edited, with charts and written instructions), you can get one here.

GO!

What will become of me?

I need a higher purpose. I need to feel that I'm involved in something great.

Something like the Olympic games.

Just look at from whence I came:




I've overcome great adversity. All I need is a little guidance, a little push in the right direction.

All I need is to be adopted by the right family.

The winner.

The winner is actually me. I am the winner for having such creative customers! Yay! I get the one of a kind skein of yarn!



Good night.






I am such an endless tease. I can't help it.  I was born teasing people. I can't turn it off, I've tried. Well, I can turn it off when needed, but it makes me froth at the mouth slightly.

I'm going to start with the honorable mentions in the Name That Stocking contest. The honorable mentions will each get a $5 gift code to use on whatever they like in our store. :D

Honorable Mention #1:  Adopt a Skein. I love the ideas of all of these parentless yarn babies needing homes. Deb, I'm going to send you a gift code! Great idea!

Honorable Mention #2: Instock and Ready to Rock. Kristin, I love the way this trips off the tongue. It's really fun to say: try it. I'm sending you a gift code too!

And now for the winners. I combined two ideas to come up with something I am tickled with. I really liked Jennifer and Victoria's suggestions and decided on:





Carpe Yarnem: Seize the Dye

I'm excited! Great ideas, Jennifer and Victoria! Since I have two skeins from this batch, I will send one to each of you! I will also keep using exclamation marks! They convey emotion!

We will have our first Carpe Yarnem stocking soon. I will announce it ahead of time so you will be able to program the alarm on your cell phone.

Now, I'm going to get all motherly and lecture y'all for just a moment. I don't want these stockings to turn into a competition and have everyone arrive with their claws out, hissing at each other.

Don't make me turn these stockings around. I will then be left with no choice but to be creative all by my own self, and I'll keep all the yarn for me. OK? OK?

OK.

Carpe Yarnem! Seize the Dye! Coming Soon! Exclamation Point!