Dear Little O,
You have been such a loves. This whole week I have been so ridiculously tired, despite my going to bed no later than 10:30. And no matter what time it has been, or where I fall asleep (on the rug by the space heater has seemed to have been a particular favorite), you have been loyal and consistent in your snuggling duties. I love the warm and fuzzy feeling that I get when you squeeze in between my arm and my side. Now, if we could only train the Other Half to be as good as you are. Just keep being that good example you have always been. I love!

**So, I haven't been as loyal in my blogging duty, but plan to be better in the weeks ahead, as I have been dabbling in some interesting stuff as of late. Tune in later when I blog about the Other Half's newest toy to save face from missing last night's blogging date.

Dear Scott,
When I saw your exhibit today, I was so pleased. It was simple and beautiful; everything I knew it would be. All the images, taken through non-silver methods and digital, were just what I would expect from you. My favorite is the calotype image of the leaves all gathered that was made larger through digital means. The fibers from the handmade paper original were relevant in the image and made it seem as if made from a large sheet of it. As a paper enthusiast, it made it difficult to not want to touch it, even though I really knew its composition. If I only had $275.oo, it would be up in my living room in a heart beat. Soon you will figure out where you will be, as your school days will finally be done. I wish you the best of luck, as you have been a very good friend and mentor of sorts. I am thankful to know you.

Dear Conference Center,
I am sure, like so many of us, you will truly miss the man that was President Gordon B. Hinckley. Though he is gone in mortality, his sweet spirit will surely live on in your halls, rooms, and the hearts of those who loved him. His diligence in creating an environment, through you, that so showed the nature of the Church from beginning to present through such amazing craftsmanship and art, was one of my favorite places upon going to Salt Lake City for the first time in August. I hold you, this particular building, close to my heart because it shows how the talents that our Heavenly Father has given us can truly be used to make a relevant mark on the world around us. So much of the member's feelings and history is exhibited through such means. I knew as we were on the tour that the abilities I had been given by my Heavenly Father were truly a gift, just as it was gift to the artisans of the work I was seeing in art, architecture, the written and spoken word. President Hinckley also helped us stay aware of these things by stressing the importance of being educated. Because of this emphasis, I believe its one of the reasons I came to know one of my callings in life. I am truly grateful for such great men who help guide our path through the trusted hand of our Heavenly Father, even Gordon B. Hinckley. May his light so shine like the warmth of sunlight from our hearts to others at this time, so that we may continue to BE the example he would want us to be.

Dear Saturday,
It seems that on only your day that my day is filled to the brim with baskets. Baskets of all kinds it seems. The morning is filled usually with that of the launderer's variety. The one pictured above is really our hamper (until I replace it), but when its contents have been sorted, fills three other smaller baskets. Later on today, when I collect groceries for the week, I will be filling a cart, which essentially is a basket on wheels. I'm not complaining, as I am a self-proclaimed organizational freak, and truly love the nature of the basket. I have them all over the house; a window into the small addiction of mine to containers of the sort. As the day progresses, I will eventually find myself clutching a red basket, filling it with my favorite brand of basket therapy: Target.

Dear Tempe, AZ,
It's days like today that I am pleasantly reminded why I live here. Nowhere but here in January can one wear flip flops all the day long, drive with the windows down, wind blowing about their curls (while listening to Silversun Pickups), and have to remove the jacket because the sunshine is making it too much to bear. Later on, I walk out into the backyard, and see the dogs playing, the neighbor's citrus hanging over the fence, and the colors of warmth from a slowly dipping sun. The Other Half will soon be home after walking through the still green park from the bus stop. Fridays (and winter in the AZ) doesn't get better than this.

Dear Rental Home,
I find this picture personally ironic, due to what is not seen here. Though the items that are displayed on the window sill are meant for neatness and cleanliness, what lies beneath is absolutely the opposite. When examined more closely, this picture is tip of the iceberg short of what poor condition you were in when we moved here. What is worse is there is nothing I can do about it. I am older than you by a year. I was told by our former neighbor that parties were had here, and admission was charged to people who came. For what it is worth, your rooms are not large enough for such parties, so proves the poorly patched former holes in the wall that are below waist level. What further boggles the mind is the level at which all towel racks are hung (about two and half feet off the ground.) Who in the world lived here? With the age of the house, there could have been many types of tenants. All I know from the clues left behind and my acute ability of deductive reasoning is that:

• The people that lived here had a extreme reflex issues leaving the walls pock-marked
  
• Only dwarves (sorry, little people) used the bathrooms
• Whomever attempted to retile portions of the shower walls was color-blind (there is a difference between ecru and off white)
• You have your choice of dark and light grout between the tiles throughout the house.
  
• Caulking fixes everything.
  
• The renter is only obligated to care for half of the front landscape. The other half is your own personal and/or public landfill.

I wanted a house. Since I am a married college student, putting the Other Half through Grad school, you were my only option at the time. So, in the meantime, I will try to be better to you. But don't get too used to it. (CSI has nothing on me.)

Dear Other Half,
I am very appreciative of the fact that to my grouchiness last night, you made me dinner. You know that it is not my favorite to cook while completely exhausted, nor pressed for time. You came through, and made spinach & cheese raviolis (thank you Costco) without leaving remnants of red sauce all over my stove like blood spatter. You did in fact make me promise to help you clean up after we were all done eating. I instead retreated to the bedroom, laid down with The Time Traveler's Wife, and fell fast asleep. There was no complaints to disturb my blissful slumber. Because of this, I forgot to post, and had plenty to choose from. But, with my numerous observations from yesterday, I chose you. So, this morning the kitchen shall be clean before you wake. And all apologies to those who loyally read this blog (Thanks Nicole!) There will be a post later today. :)

Dear Mr. Fenstermacher & Soltis,
After reading the cover, multiple cover pages and the first sentence of the chapter, I would have to give the rundancy of the phrase, "approaches to teaching" a rousing: DUH! That is why I bought the book and am a taking the class in the first place. I know this is your fourth edition and all, but I was just hoping for a little more substance... or approaches, as it may. Maybe the fifth edition will be the charm. Anyways, thanks for trying.

Dear Phx Zoo,
Though today I should have embraced the holiday from school and slept in, I opted to help out the Early Childhood breakfast program. Though no breakfast surely is worth getting up and being somewhere at 7:00 a.m. in January, I couldn't help but to take the offer of getting to feed the stingrays (getting paid was also a plus). With pieces of smelt and shrimp clasped between my fingers, I reached out as far and as deep as I could. Cownose Rays like to flutter in schools around the pool as the Southern Rays glide across the bottom. Feeding the cownose rays is the best as they would suck the food from your hands, get all excited from their new found treat and begin splashing about as they continue around the perimeter. They are also slightly spongy to the touch and covered in mucus. What's even better is the guides don't tell this to the public until they are already touching them. I {heart} the Zoo.

Dear Sweet Roo,
I love watching you play outside with your brother. I wish I still had that much free time to still play tag and bask out in the sunshine. Instead I am inside cleaning house, to your dismay (and me, too.) I know that you dislike this so, because I can't stop to rub your little pink belly as I walk by the couch with my rubber gloves. You rollover as a temptation, but I go onward to take on the shower doors. Though I cringe when I have to clean toilets (especially when living with a boy... 'nuff said), you and Little Big Brother dislike vacuuming the best. You stand like a deer in the headlights as you watch it emerge from the closet, and then run away at any sudden movement. Once it is on and going, you and brother can't help but watch like it is an accident on the side of the freeway... from a distance, of course. But, to tell you the truth, it really wouldn't have to be such a necessity if you didn't bring the backyard into my living room. Though its a reminder that fixing up the yards is next on the list, I really could do without. So, the cycle will continue, to your dismay and mine. But it will be okay as there will always be time in between for belly rubs.

Dear Rebel,
The goal was to have you be the bearer of all my images; to work together as one. It obviously hasn't turned out that way, because you are still sitting in a box in a drawer. Many would call me crazy (and have), but I just haven't had a moment to myself, let alone a moment to be with you. I pine for the moment when I can adjust apertures, fiddle with shutter speeds, and just hold you in my hands. But for now, you sit. You sit and I continue to feel guilt as I have been working with the Powershot instead of you. Its a nice camera, too, don't get me wrong. Its just doesn't allow the same freedoms as I can feel when I eventually shoot with you. So, this weekend will be ours. We will open the box, put on the lense, and learn your ways. Together. You can hold me to it.

Dear Thursday,
Today is the last time I will have a first week back. I feel good about it; like I just might be ready to finish. In the meantime, I have learned a few good & new things that I will be using for part of the semester. The following, in no particular order:

• I set type by hand for the first time. 24 pt. Goudy Old Style, in case you were wondering. I made a proof of my name. Eventually, I will be able to mass produce ephemera of my own design.
• Origami books can be made 3 ways, put into a cover with a pamphlet stitch, and have a surprise inside. I have two due next week.
• Literacy has been as consistent in my life as art. I still want to write and illustrate my own books someday.
  
• I love classes based on theory. No wrong can be done or said... at least nearly so. (Lets be honest, its a journal and 5 papers.)
  

So, with this I end this school-filled week. I can now fulfill my face time with Mr. Kerouac, fill a planner's pages with syllabi and other activities, hit the Barnes & Noble at the Marketplace, and finish the studio once and for all. Now, if I could just figure out that breakfast thing...

Dear Mary Lou,
I have been awaiting for this little piece of paper to grace me with its presence and tell me my destiny for the semester. It seems that you have determined that I will be observing the very student body that I enjoyed the least in my own youth: adolescents. I've been charged with the task of being in a room with seventh, eighth, and/or ninth graders, thanks to you. Now, I will admit that I requested them, reluctantly, just to ensure that I am either, a) completely capable of stomaching the hallways reeking with unbalanced hormones, b) capable to stop a fight in my future classroom (most art supplies can be deemed weaponry), or c) that junior high students can in fact jump my tiny stature after school if they don't like hearing that gang insignias replicated into Sharpie marker tattoos are not appropriate art assignments. This will truly be the test of my patience, will, and whether I could in fact qualify for American Gladiators (its quite similar, really). So, thanks again Mary Lou Fulton for my current field experience placement. My life's work had yet to be complete without it.

Dear Breakfast,
So, after the first time, in a long time, we have already parted ways. I thought for sure that I would make it at least to the end of the week. I thought that I was even clever to mix the Apple Cinnamon with the Cinnamon Sugar to double the sweetness of our first meeting. To boot, it shouldn't even be hard to commit; you were instant for goodness sakes! Alas, though trying to make it easier, I have failed in the instant gratification of my hunger, and have received dirty looks from the Quaker in my pantry for no good reason. My classroom colleagues will just have to deal with the rumbling sounds that will only resonate when the classroom is drop of a pin quiet. Apparently, this is the penance that I must pay for treating this merely as a fling. Though, the Burger King was more than happy to see me this afternoon. So, despite your means of making me feel bad, you've been replaced if but only temporarily. I know I will regret it later.

Dear 2008,
I constantly find myself looking forward to new beginnings in all that I do. Two weeks ago was the start of a new year, yesterday was the start of a new week, and today was the first day back at school. I am looking forward to what lies ahead for me in everything. I was reminded by this picture at how I've neglected to pay attention to my everyday. This was August in Yellowstone. This is everyday in Yellowstone. While I obviously took notice when I was there, I was still being critical of artistic composition and digital camera features in a moving vehicle. Not the most ideal of situations, but I made due. So, here is a reminder of wherever you may be, to take notice of your everyday. You don't have to, but I am. (Its why I started this blog).

Sincerely,
The Sender