Another Half-Staff Flag

Here we go again
The world spins around
The flag goes up and goes back down

I didn't know what it is about a lowered flag in front of a school that brings out such strong emotions in me.  But today it hit me.  It is because that flag always comes with unanswered questions from innocent children. 

Every morning during the week, a fifth-grade student proudly rushes into the building to grab the flag and raise it on a pole in front of the school.  Often, he is so excited to do so that we have to remind him to walk.  This morning, without prompting that I am aware of, he knew where the flag needed to be.  Yesterday,  a school of 3,000 high school students and their teachers were victims and/or witnesses of a school mass shooting.  And a 10 or 11-year-old student knew about it before breakfast this morning.  It is heart-wrenching as a teacher and as mother to know that these YOUNG children cannot and should not (maybe??? I'm torn) be shielded from the events that took place yesterday.  Tragically, this could have and may one day be their story if things do not change.  So we have to prepare these young children to know what to do if "another school shooting" happens to them.  It feels like we are preparing them for a potential bomb in a time of war.  But they have to know what to do, right? 

The questions I was asked today by a group of 4th grade children were questions no one has trained me to answer.  We are rightly taught that if we don't know the answer to a question, we tell the student we don't know.  It shows them that teachers aren't perfect and we do not know everything and that is okay.  We are lifelong learners who seek to find knowledge when it is lacking.  But what about when your student asks you a question like, "why would someone walk into a school and try to kill a bunch of people?"  I can't just ask Siri that one.  I have to tell them I don't know and that there isn't a logical answer.  Not only is their teacher not perfect.  She doesn't know all the answers.  There is no way to take pride that you stumped your teacher this time.  Today they looked to me to have an answer to their deepest questions and I can't find one.  They want so desperately for me to answer them in a way that makes them comfortable, that eases their anxious fearful little minds a little bit.  But there are no words.  All I can do is say that I am so sorry that they have to feel this way.  I have to tell them it can happen anywhere.  I have to tell them we need to be prepared.  I have to tell them that this is why we tell them not to be silly during a lock-down drill.  I have to tell them it is very important to stay absolutely silent and away from the windows and doors.  I have to tell them that I will do everything in my power to keep them safe if something like that ever happens here.  Then I have to tell them that I don't know what else to say.

Every morning during assembly, right after breakfast and right before our students go to their class, we make promises to each other.  The students say:
As a student of ___________ School
I respect myself and others, too.
I'll be on task, on time, never late.
I'll make good choices
ALWAYS SAFE.
I'll be responsible for every chore.
I'm a ____________ tiger,
HEAR ME ROAR!

And the teachers reply:
As a teacher at ___________ School
I will engage every learner, everyday
In higher order thinking
Through innovative lessons
In a SAFE environment.

What happens if our pledges to each-other are not enough?  What happens if our students keep their promise to be safe, and we keep our promise to maintain a safe environment and it still isn't enough???  I pray that day never comes!!!

The First Breath After Drowning

Disclaimer…not for the faint of heart.  I just started writing.  My heart is heavy and full all at the same time.  I hope this does not come across as insensitive.  Anyone who knows me knows that my greatest strength and weakness is sensitivity.  I feel other’s pain as deeply as possible without living it...blessing and a curse.  So this may bring tears, but I hope the end brings relief like…

 

The First Breath After  Drowning

I’ve never drowned

I’ve never lost someone I love to the water

But I know some who have

And I’ve seen ones who have

And I’ve spent the last few days seeing

And feeling the weight of those who have

And I ache inside for them

I hold my breath as they fight for theirs

I sigh with relief when they take one

I fill with pride for my fellow men and women

 

Who braved the treacherous waters

To lessen the drowning

To give more seconds, or minutes, or days, or hours, or years

To those they pull from the water

I watch in heartbreaking disbelief

A whole city, several cities, a region

Slip into cold muddy water

Hours and years spent building houses

And minutes and hours and days and years

Lived in homes that will never be the same

Memories washed away in the current

Photos, treasures, collections, family keepsakes

…Things

Under inches and feet of RAINDROPS

And to those who swam to shores that were once highways

Or drifted to dry land at the water’s edge

Or lifted into helicopters in baskets

Or dragged into flat-bottom boats

Or floated on refrigerators and mattresses

Or clung to stop signs and telephone poles

The lucky ones whose heavy hearts didn’t sink them

They may never feel dried of the floodwaters again

But they have another chance to take another breath

To live another life

A better life

To find more joy because of the pain they will carry

To share the courage and strength that was shared with them

With others during their storms

I pray that the water on their souls that may never dry

Only brings them a greater purpose

A reason to fight harder than the current

A reason to love deeper than the floodwaters

A reason to flow as peacefully as the receding tide

A reason to speak words that were once muffled

A reason to swim the rocky waters



Not all were gifted with the dramatic rescue

The crowd of those left behind were blessed with something

FAR GREATER

Their first breath after drowning was heavenly

It was perfection

And will be forevermore

The muddy waters were instantly dried

They were met with instant warmth from the cold

Infinite joy abounded

Their party wasn’t a heavyhearted celebration

But a never-ending fiesta

They weren’t yanked ashore by rescuers

But ushered in by a shepherd

Who led them to STILL WATERS

Refreshing to their soul

Their first warm meal

Was a banquet

They needed no blanket to warm cold bones

They were wrapped in clouds of grace

And arms of love

And joy abounding

And waves of mercy

And waves of grace

Their first breath after drowning

Was weightless!

What a blessing that will be.

6 Reasons I am NOT Depressed

I honestly don't think I could be any happier than I am right now, or any more content, or excited about the future.

Over Thanksgiving break, I had family and friends here I don't get to see very often staying in my house.  I have an amazing husband who is an answer to many prayers I prayed long before we met at Scenic Land School. 

I have two incredible boys who are growing and changing and learning faster than I can blink my eyes.  And I feel blessed that I am getting to watch that happen. 

Without really thinking about it, the spirit of Thanksgiving swept over me like a gust of wind and shifted my perspective.  I am not a pessimist, but lately I have been seeing the wrong side of things. 
Yet, I seem to have it all straightened out in my mind. 

1.The world is not primarily dark.  Yes, there is evil and hate in the world.  There is lots of it.  The latest mass-murders in San Bernardino, California have made that all too clear.  But light and love still shine stronger.  Lately, I have noticed the stars.  My son asks to go see them every time we get home after dark.  He stares up at the sky and says, "Jesus made that."

2. No, I don't always love my job.  But I love the people I do my job for.  No, I didn't miss my work over Thanksgiving break, but I did miss the young people I try to serve.  No, I didn't miss their snarky attitudes or their laziness.  But when I go more than two days without my students, I find myself wondering if they were having a good Thanksgiving, too. 

3. Yes, my oldest son is two.  And yes, he can sometimes exhibit the stereotypical behaviors of one who is two.  But I am treasuring watching him learn to be a person.  I love his incessant drive to do exactly what he wants to do with every ounce of seemingly endless energy he possesses.

I love seeing his passion for baseball build without any persuasion from his baseball-obsessed father.  I love watching my husband as he watches his son fall in love with the game he loves.

  I love the way Shea loves and protects and shows genuine concern for his baby brother. 

4. I love Shea's baby brother, Patten.  There is not much learn or observe about him yet.  But what I have learned and observed about him, I love.  I love his little neck rolls, and leg rolls, and arm rolls.  I love his squishy chunky cheeks, with or without his dry flakey skin.  I love his quick, not-quite-yet laugh and his open-mouthed smile.  And I love how his favorite person to watch is his big brother.

5. Yes, there are a lot more family members that couldn't be with us for Thanksgiving than the ones that could.  And yes, it would be much easier and more convenient for all of the people we love to be one big happy family all living just around the corner.  But for more reasons than one, that just isn't the case.  But how blessed are we to have so many loved ones to miss?

6. Sure, there are plenty of things I would change if I could.  But I have way more things that I wouldn't change FOR THE WORLD!

Despite all the stress, and the oftentimes mess, and the things that would leave any person depressed, the one thing I am feeling right now is BLESSED!

PS-The family photos were shot this weekend by my friend, Lorie.  She is an amazing photographer.  She will take your photos, too!
Check out her website.
http://lorieallison.com/

If Only Hashtags Could HEAL

I wrote this angry prayer not so long ago after the terrorist attacks in Paris. But it seems the #hashtags# keep coming. The latest one I saw was #HealOurOrLANDo plastered across a billboard in Chattanooga.  A touching gesture and attempt at       solidarity. One city struck by terrorism extending an embrace to another now facing the same hoping a billboard means something. What else is there to do? Yes, it happened here, too. We know the pain of having to say, "stuff like that just doesn't happen here." That statement is beginning to lose its shock value. Too many people have said the same thing. But what can we do? Now we both have a hashtag to go with our city. How tragic it is that cities are literally trending by terrorism? #Orlando is no longer just recordings of vacation memories. It's no longer just smiling faces by the beach. Now is survivor photos, memorial photos, photos of people sobbing,  artistic expressions of grief. What can we do? I know. We will give it a clever hashtag. That will fix it.

#If Only Hastags Could Heal#

They were just out for a night on the town
#OrlandoUnited

They were just raising a toast at an office party.
#SanBernadino

They just wanted to rock out to their favorite band
They were just enjoying a pleasant meal
#PrayingForParis

They were just getting pumped for the big game
They were just cheering on the OSU Cowboys
#HomeGoingParade

They were just going to class
They were just perusing degrees for a shot at the American Dream
#Umpqua

They were just reporting the news
They were just preparing for their big day
#LiveNotAlive

They were just doing their jobs
They were just enjoying time home between deployments
#ChattanoogaStrong

They were just going to church to learn how to be more like you
They were just black
#ChurchInCharleston

They were just going to see a movie
They were just enjoying their popcorn and Coke
#CheckYourAssaultRifleAtTheDoorCinemas

They were just going to school
They were just little kids
#SandyHookStudents

#WHYisKillingPeopleTrending



PS-I really pray from the bottom of my heart that this doesn't make anyone doubt the God that I pray to or his goodness or his faithfulness or his love. My prayer is that you know it's okay to ask why.  Jesus asked why that time, too. I figure if he can pray an angry prayer I can, too. But don't ask me why, God hasn't answered me yet.

Inspire Me Monday-IronDAD Chattanooga 9-27-15

Today I am inspired by the Ironman competition that took place in Chattanooga yesterday. I will be competing in my first Ironman competition this May. I will be a part of a relay team in the Half-ironman later this year. I will be doing the running portion of the race. The half ironman consists of a    1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike ride, and 13.1 mile run. The full ironman is a feat taken on by a small group of individuals, and accomplished by even fewer. It starts with a 2.4 mile swim , followed by a 112 mile bike race, and finishing with a full marathon of 26.2 miles. And it is all completed by one individual at one time. It is the ultimate test of brawn, determination, endurance, athleticism, and heart. And one man, one dad, showed even more heart than anyone else who went on this 140+ mile adventure. He went that whole great distance carrying a person with him...

Chattanooga is a haven for runners.  I knew that the first time I made an official recruiting visit to the University of Tennessee at Chattanooga.  I was being recruited to run track and cross-country as a Chattanooga Running Moc.  It didn't take long to realize that my running shoes would love it here.  Since the start of my freshmen year of college, I put in many miles of running around this city that became a second home to me.  

Alongside my teammates, I ran long runs up and down the hills of Chattanooga, the Baker Street loop over by GPS, hill repeats back behind the golf course, the duck pond loop twisting around the north side of the city, runs out toward East Chattanooga by the car dealerships and the Chattanooga Choo-Choo, runs past the resturaunts downtown, long runs breezing by Finley Staduim and cooling down behind the Tennessee Aquarium, out-and-backs on the Riverwalk, sprints inside McKenzie Arena when the roads were too icy, speed workouts on the blue track at GPS and taking a bathroom and water break in Coolidge Park, the bridges loop if we were just wanting to get a quick morning run in before class on days without pool workouts, runs through the woods at Greenway Park followed by some hill repeats...

And last but not least a good-ole-go-to-run when we were wanting to mix things up...an out and back run to Moccasin Bend.

It was one of those routes we didn't take very often on long runs.  Days that we ran it were the mornings that we sat in our dorm room lacing up our shoes trying to decide where we wanted to run that day.  One of us would say, "I'm getting tired of duck pond and Baker's loop.  I don't feel like driving somewhere to run.  What about running to Moc Bend today?  It's not too hilly."  And off we went.  We would head out of our Johnson Village dorm room and take a left.  We would cross over either Veteran's Bridge, Walnut Street Bridge (aka walking bridge), or the Market Street Bridge, depending on how we were feeling that day.  Once on the north side of the river we would hang a left onto Manufacturer's Road to run past Greenlife and the liquor store, then another left onto Hamm Road.  At some point during the run someone would comment on how bad it smells over by the water treatment plant when it gets hot.  We would tend to pick up to a pretty swift pace as we took off toward Moccasin Bend.  The road was nice and flat and straight as a starting line.  You could see your point of destination.  The spot where you turn around to head home.  That's what was nice about this run.  It's not very often that the end is in sight.  The turnaround point for that run was like the straightaway at the end of a track race.  There aren't many flat spots to run around the city besides the track, but this was one of them.  I honestly remember the feeling I would get on that straightaway leading into the scenic Moccasin Bend property-that feeling that you had more energy left in the tank than you thought you did.  That, "heck, why not speed it up a bit, here?"  It was an opportunity to remind yourself how fast you were, that even in the middle of a long run you still had it in you to let loose a bit and burn some rubber on those shoes.  You start to feel like all of your worries and stresses don't exist anymore.  We would, for a short time, forget about the essays due and looming deadlines and teammate drama.  We would just run.  Fast.  And running fast is a great feeling.

I am sure that is the feeling Cameron Bean felt on his final run last Monday.

Cameron had spent the last year training his father, Steve Bean, to run the Ironman with him. Instead Steve ran it FOR Cameron while Cameron cheered him on from above. 

As Steve was nearing the finish line, the announcer said, "Steve, you are an Ironman!"...he looks more like an IronDAD to me.

(Click above to see his heroic finish.)

They that hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not be faint. 

Isaiah 40:31

Thankful Thursday

Life is hard.  And life is sad.  And life doesn't always make sense.  Bad things happen to good people.  And I don't understand.  But I know my God is on his throne.  I don't always know the right words to say to those whose hearts are broken, and that breaks my heart.  But I know that even when I can't see God, he can see me.  And I know that when you can't feel him, he is still holding you.  When I feel as if my tears have no effect, I remember that each one of them is counted.  Today I am thankful for the God I cannot see, and cannot always hear, and don't always understand, because at least I know he is there.  And I know ALL WILL BE MADE RIGHT in its own time.

This song found its way into my head and heart today-about a month after 5 men just down the road lost their lives at the hands of terror,

two days after I taught my students about the devastation of Hurricane Katrina,

and a man was killed in my city over gang "beef", 

one day after a reporter and cameraman were shot and killed on live television by a disgruntled former co-worker right in front of people they loved. 

The first line of each verse are the perfect words written and sung by Derek Webb in this song:
 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UZgZD91T5-4  This music video is both truly chilling and truly moving and truly true.
And the words below each line are the ones written in my heart to the music.  This is the song my heart is singing.

People love you the most for the things you hate
          People KNOW you the most for the things you hate
And hate you for loving the things you can't keep straight
          And judge you for who you love, if you're straight or gay

People judge you on a curve
          Teachers are rated on a curve
And tell you you're getting what you deserve
          Based on the kids we teach and serve
 And this too shall be made right
           AND THIS, TOO, SHALL BE MADE RIGHT

Children cannot learn when children cannot eat
          It's hard to learn in class when you cannot eat
Stack them like lumber when children cannot sleep
          Count them as absent but don't care where they sleep
Children dream of wishing wells
          They dream of families that treat them well
Who's waters quench all the fires of hell
          And love that can quench all the fires of hell
And this too shall be made right
          AND THIS, TOO, SHALL BE MADE RIGHT

 The earth and the sky and the sea are all holding their breath
           The earth and the sky and the sea are all holding their breath
Wars and abuses have nature growing with death
          Words of abuse have them all just waiting for death
You say we're just trying to stay alive
          Our kids are just trying to survive
 It looks so much more like a way to die
           In a world where they fight just to stay alive
 And this too shall be made right
          AND THIS, TOO, SHALL BE MADE RIGHT

Yes, there's a time for peace, there is a time for war
         There is a time to resist, and a time we should fight no more
 There's a time to forgive and a time to settle the score
          There's a time to forgive and to hate them no more
 A time for babies to lose their lives
          A time for brave souls to lay down their lives
 A time for hunger and genocide
          A time to fight on and a time to die
 And this too shall be made right
          AND THIS, TOO, SHALL BE MADE RIGHT

 Oh, I don't know the sufferings of people outside my front door
          I see the sufferings of those who walk in my class door

And I join the oppressors of those I choose to ignore
          And I harden the hearts of the students I chose to ignore
 I'm trading peace for human life
          I'm trading comfort for human life
 And that's not just murder, it's suicide
          And that's not just failing, it's suicide
 And this too shall be made right
          AND THIS, TOO, SHALL BE MADE RIGHT


Ecclesiastes 3:
There is a time for everything,

and a season for every activity under the heavens:

a time to be born and a time to die,

a time to plant and a time to uproot,

a time to kill and a time to heal,

a time to tear down and a time to build,

a time to weep and a time to laugh,

a time to mourn and a time to dance,

a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,

a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,

a time to search and a time to give up,

a time to keep and a time to throw away,

a time to tear and a time to mend,

a time to be silent and a time to speak,

a time to love and a time to hate,

a time for war and a time for peace.

What do workers gain from their toil? I have seen the burden God has laid on the human race. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart. Or also placed ignorance in the human heart, so that no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end. I know that there is nothing better for people than to be happy and to do good while they live. That each of them may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all their toil—this is the gift of God.

Where I Work Wednesday

I work here...

I work here...

And I work here...

Some work I love more than others. I am not going to lie.

My official job title is high school teacher. I teach reading and writing to kids who are fans of neither. At the moment we are working on reading Touching Spirit Bear by Ben Mikaelsen.  We are trying to make personal connections to the events and characters in the story. I am trying to help them understand that they can put themselves in the story to better enjoy and further analyze it.

We are working on evoking emotion through our writing as we reflect on the ten-year anniversary of Hurricane Katrina. Many of my students knew little to nothing about this tragic natural disaster. The images from the documentary I showed them were all they knew of it. They were not there. Most of them were 4 or 5 when it hit. They didn't watch the live coverage that I saw when I was about their age. The live coverage I played for them was broadcasted 10 years ago in the living room of my home and the homes of millions of other dumbfounded viewers around the world. But I want them to put themselves in the shoes of the people who lived it, see it through their eyes, and tell the story they had never before been told.

My unofficial "side job" is creating things at my kitchen table. The photo you saw of my kitchen table was taken the week we moved into our house, before two kids and the madness that comes with living in a home and not having much time to keep it looking like a magazine. This is what it looks like now.

I have some perfect craftroom-worthy space in my basement. But I would rather work at my kitchen table right in the middle of the action that is life at the Strauss house. That way, when I am working, I can still be spending time with my hubby and our two little boys.

And my favorite job titles are MOM and WIFE. I am not a housewife, though I wish I could say I was. My house isn't spotless, or even close for that matter. I swept the floor two days ago, which is not done often enough. But with a terrier mix and a pit bull the dog, hair accumulates quite quickly. It tends to cling to Shea's books and the pillows on the couch. However, ridding the house of this hair is lower on the priority list than it should be. Shea normally goes to bed with his toys strewn across the living room. 

He has been taught how to clean up after himself but as soon as he wears himself out from playing, we haul him off to bed before he gets slap happy and finds his second wind. Our house may be filled with clutter and dusty shelves and hairy hardwood, but it is also filled with

LOVE and FUN. And I'd take that over picture perfect any day. Hats off to all of you moms that have both...the happy home and perfect house. Maybe I will get there someday. But for now I will just be content in the somewhat messy life I am blessed to live in.

July 2015...BITTER...SWEET

On this, the 20th day of July, the year 2015, I am mentally, emotionally, and spiritually OVERWHELMED!  This month has been a whirlwind for my country, my city, my family, and me. And none of us will ever be the same again, for better or for worse, and my prayer is for the former.
July 1st- the first day of the month of my due date for my second son. He was due to make his appearance on July 29th.
Needless to say, he wasn't willing to wait.

July 4th-a day our country celebrates freedom, and the day my son, Patten Turner Strauss, decided to join in on the festivities.

July 5th-Some friends and family came to meet Little Patten. He was alert and cuddly and cute and everything a one-day old baby should be. We told our son, Shea, that his new baby brother would be going to "Shea's house" tomorrow because all indications pointed in that direction. 

July 6th- Due to extreme exhaustion on the part of my husband and I (I had essentially been in labor and in and out of the hospital for at least a week), we took advantage of the nursury services offered by the hospital. We sent him off to the nursury so we could sleep a couple of hours at a time between feedings. It is hospital policy that all babies that are born before 37 weeks gestation must have a car-seat test. He was born at 36 weeks and 4 days. This is where they put the baby in the car seat for an hour and monitor their heart rate and respiration. As we slept, they strapped him into the car seat. It quickly became clear to the nurses he was not going to pass the test. His respiration rate went up over 100 breaths per minute. My husband and I were woken up by a nurse we had never met telling us our 2-day-old son had just been admitted to the NICU. This is what we saw when we walked in to see our little guy.

July 7th-

July 8th-

Later that day...

Fast forward to July 16th- On the way home from lunch and shopping with my mother-in-law and my two boys, I got a call from my husband who was working a kids summer camp at the University of Tennessee at Chattanooga. He said to go straight home and turn on the news but he didn't know any details. All he knew was there was an active shooter in downtown Chattanooga. I am sure you are aware of the shootings that happened in Chattanooga where 4 marines and one sailor lost their lives and many others put their lives on the line to make sure no more innocent people died at the hands of evil. They happened just a few miles from where my husband was working. We later learned that the shooter went to the same college as us at the same time. He was, up until the time of the shooting, living on the same street where my mom grew up.

Click here to listen to this beautiful song.

Today, July 19th-

As I sit in the comfort of my home and watch my boys play beside each other on the floor and type this post with my husband beside me on the couch, I can't help but be grateful for all that I have. I can't help but take a sigh of relief that we were not in the wrong place at the wrong time. I can't help but think about and pray for and hurt for those that no longer have their husbands, or sons, or fathers beside them. I can't help but worry about the mounting threats of more terrorism in the coming hours and days and years. I can't help but be sad at the state of the world that will be the expected norm to my boys if nothing changes. I can't help but pray that my boys be a part of a generation that turns from fear to peace, from doubt to hope, and from hate to love. I pray that my husband and I will find the words to say when our sons ask the hard questions like why did this happen, who could do something like this, why is life so hard, and why do bad things happen to good people? I pray this because these are answers I am seeking myself.

But through all of this sadness there is one thing I know...in the end all that matters is LOVE.

1 Corinthians 13: 12 For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

13 And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

It was fun while it lasted...Scrap Stash Studio 2.0

So...bittersweet news my friends.  This phase of Scrap Stash Studio will be no more.  My year-long lease is up at the studio and life is a little too crazy to justify continuing this venture in this way.  So Scrap Stash Studio will be morphing a bit into something different.  It is not going away by any means.  It was really fun and semi-successful but I have new plans for this figurative baby of mine now...now that literal baby number two will be here soon.  My "studio" will be moving to my basement.  My basement, until now, has been a workout room/dumping ground for stuff that doesn't fit anywhere else in the house.  But soon the shelves will be packed with all of the paper, poster, yarn, markers, scissors, glue, and random bits of this and that that are currently housed in the studio.

Hopefully the fabric and thread that have overtaken my kitchen can find a tidy space in the new basement craft room.  The room is much smaller than the studio but with a couple fold-out tables, I may be able to host a craft party of 8-10 people at my house.  But, I have bigger plans than an occasional basement craft session.  I want to have you, my crafty and not-so-crafty friends, to host craft parties at your house.  I have brought up the idea before but not really pursued it very diligently.  Well, now, it is the main avenue I will be embarking on for Scrap Stash Studio.  The way it will work is just like most Mary Kay, Thirty-One, Pure Romance, and Arbonne parties.  You sign up to host and have a group of friends in mind or I round up a group of friends for you, and you invite all of us in to make a fun craft or project over cookies, or dinner, or glasses of wine, or birthday cake, or whatever.  I will charge each attendee for the class.  Prices will vary depending on activity, and all materials and supplies will be provided.  In return for welcoming a group of loud and crazy friends and madness and potential for glitter and paper clippings everywhere, you will craft for free.  Sounds like a deal to me.  So next time you are trying to come up with something to do for a special event or just a unique and fun experience...think of me and my new traveling studio.  Let's make fun things together!  Scrap Stash Studio 2-point-oh...Scrap Stash Studio 2 GO!
That being said, I am ready to host, or have someone else host, a rag rug-making party.  I have 4 trash bags full of t-shirt scraps that we can use to make rugs.

From this ^...to this....

It would be a $10 class (free if you host) and I will provide the base for the mat, fabric cutter, cutting mat, scissors, hooks, and all of the t-shirt clippings you will need.  Of course if you would like a certain color variety you can use shirts of your own.  I would recommend going to a thrift store and getting cheap t-shirts if that is your wish.  So if you are interested in attending and/or hosting this craft party, let me know and we will make it happen, even if it happens in my basement. 
PS-the closing of the physical studio comes just in time for the yard sale I will be having at my house on Saturday the 30th.  I will be selling lots of the stuff that filled the studio.  I will have chairs, tables, and shelves from the studio for sale along with all of the typical yard sale-type stuff...toys, clothes, books, etc.  I will have some quilts and crocheted items for sale as well.  So come shop.  Or if you are looking for anything in particular, hit me up before the sale and I can let you know if I have it.