Living With Imperfection

Can I Be Thankful on Valentine's Day?

2012-02-13T10:04:00.000-05:00

There it was right on the teacher's web site when I pulled it up at 11:30 p.m. on Sunday night.

"Please bring valentines for your classmates on Monday. Remember those sweet bags we made last week? Well Monday we are going to fill them up with valentines from all of you."

Unbelievable. Valentines needed first thing in the a.m. No time to shop. Valentine-less child not an option. ("All of you" does not mean "all of you except Youngest Daughter.")

So, even though it is not the 4th Thursday of the month of November, I would like to express my thankfulness on this day-before-Valentine's-Day.

* I am thankful that in my distant past I thought I was a scrapbooker.

* I am thankful that 2 weeks ago I hid these dye-free lollipops high in the cupboard because the children appeared to be eating them instead of their 3 meals a day.

* I am thankful that while digging through a craft box I found small cellophane bags from a craft so far in the distant past that its memory completely escapes me.

* I am thankful that I bought the red curly ribbon giant jumbo roll at Target instead of the small, do-one-gift-only mini roll.

* I am thankful that since Valentine's Day specializes in sappy, corny sentiments I didn't have to try to be clever.

* I am thankful that under great emotional strain Middle Son agreed to plop all the lollipops head down in the cellophane bags.

* I am thankful that Youngest Daughter was willing to be 5 minutes late to school and help me tie red curly ribbon while waiting in the car.

* I am thankful that I have gotten through another school event without the teacher ever finding out how very much this mom doesn't have it together.

The Good and the Bad of the Signs of Spring

2012-02-09T08:07:00.001-05:00

I do feel quite guilty rejoicing over the signs of a coming spring!! After all, here in the South we've had a very mild winter. Our neighbors from Buffalo, New York scarcely can bring themselves to call it winter. I can see them trying to keep the chuckle out of their eyes on the several days where the weather hits freezing.

But, still, when those first daffodils pop their heads up, it's all I can do to keep from squealing, jumping up and down, and ordering bathing suits.

And then there are these shoes, fresh from Target for Youngest Daughter.

If those don't just announce spring and start you packing up your wooly sweaters!

There is, of course, another side to the signs of spring. And that would be the spring fever that gets in to teen-aged boys when the weather starts to warm and the daffodils start to bloom and the flowery shoes start to show up in Target. It's the fever that assures them that now that it is warm, surely school is over, surely the play time of summer has begun.

Do you see the child above trying to look diligent? Five minutes before this picture was taken, he was hurling a pen at the cork board to see if it would stick, wrestling his brother, petting the dog, gazing empty-eyed out the front window. Not addressing the matter of the comparative and superlative forms of an adjective.

Spring Fever!

I hate to tell you, my dear, but you had better close your eyes to the daffodils, ignore the warm breezes blowing up onto the front porch, and turn a deaf ear to the chirping of the birds. We've got all of February, March, April, and May yet to go.

Cute Cupcakes!

2012-02-06T17:49:00.003-05:00

If life was perfect . . . or maybe if I was two people instead of just one . . .

Then when birthday times came, I would make dreamy cupcakes with jaunty little buntings on top of them . . . or decorated to look like little be-whiskered bunnies . . . or elegantly piped, sparkled and jeweled within an inch of their lives.

But life is not perfect . . . and I am only one person.

So, this year when it came time for Youngest Daughter's birthday, I was so glad that a friend had given her the most adorable box of "Cute Cupcakes" decorations.

I could feel the stress of making the perfect cake un-knot itself from my shoulders, as Youngest Daughter's delight in creating her own cupcakes became our new birthday focus.

Love the vintage feel in the colors. The swirls the polka dots, the sweet little picks. The fun of doing it all by yourself.

They went to school the next day . . . simple white cupcakes, simple white frosting, beautiful wrappers, sweet picks.

And a happy birthday girl who had made it all by herself!

Let's hear it for simple!

How 'Bout Them 2012 Goals!

2012-02-03T09:27:00.000-05:00

Well, it's been a month. Time for a checkup on the 2012 goals.

#1 - Early to bed, early to rise. Ooooh, oooh, definite points for this one. I have been getting up early every morning and have been rewarded by some stunning sunrises!

#2 - Drawers, closets, cupboards, pantries of the M household. Ahem. Well, 3 drawers done this month. At this rate, I should finish half the kitchen by the close of 2012. ::sigh:: Any person in my household accusing me of desperately racing to clean out drawer #3 so I could take this picture should be assumed to be bitter, biased and uncooperative with the spirit of this post.

#3 - Meal plans and shopping list. Did a splendid job on month 1. We are now in month 2. If I don't get a meal list together by this afternoon, I am in jeopardy of falling of the wagon here.

#4 - Prairie Fire Throw. Going swimmingly. I pick it up when sitting with grouchy children doing their math. Keeps me very calm.

(This is my grandmother's old magazine and sewing box. I think she would be glad that I'm knitting.)

#5 - Blogging. Starts my day out with a smile. Right on track here.

#6 - More time spent with kids out of doors. Uh . . . well . . . hmmmm. Let's see. I did pack them all up one day to head to Hendersonville, NC to go hiking. Stopped for gluten-free pizza. Chomped on pizza and sipped Izze Sparkling Sodas. Drove by thrift/antique store. Stopped at thrift/antique store. Shopped thrift/antique store for 1 1/2 hours. Ran out of time for hiking. But found this adorable vintage ricer. Ahem.

Okay . . . so/so. The great thing about goals: you may not attain them, but they do keep you headed in the right direction.

How are you doing with your 2012 goals?

Shallow

2012-02-01T06:38:00.000-05:00

I really, really like to eat healthfully . . . few prepared foods, no additives, etc.

But once in a while a recipe comes along and you make it and your kids taste it and think you are the very-best-cook-in-the-world.

And then you make the cookies for a bake sale and every kid in the class thinks you're the very-best-cook-in-the-world.

And then you get requested to make them every time there's any kind of sale.

And it kind of goes to your head and your concern for the health and wholesomeness in the foods you make is totally swallowed up in the thrill of "making something that everyone loves"!

Yes, I am that shallow.

Yes, these are those cookies!

Double Chocolate Chip Cookies

1 Box Devil's Food Cake Mix
1 Stick Butter
2 Eggs
1 Tablespoon Vanilla
1/2 Cup Semi-Sweet Chocolate Chips
1/2 Cup Milk Chocolate Chips

Combine cake mix, eggs, butter (softened), and vanilla. Mix well. Add chocolate chips. Bake for 11 minutes at 350. Pull out of oven when puffed but not looking completely done. Let sit for 5 minutes to cool and set. Do not overbake or they will be crunchy.

Pink Tulips

2012-01-30T12:40:00.002-05:00

I was not planning on purchasing pink tulips when I walked into the grocery store.

As a matter of fact, I was specifically there for three items: Chocolate Cheerios, bananas, and Peter Pan Superchunk Please-Not-Creamy-This-Time-Mom peanut butter.

And then I saw them . . . right by the ice cream freezer.

Pink Tulips.

My heart swooned. I steeled myself. I'm at the end of the grocery budget. Must focus.

I found my peanut butter and bananas and rounded the corner to head toward the cereal. And there they were again. Blush pink, faintly edged in white.

I had just come in from a drizzly, grey outside. A drizzly, grey day that followed about 13 other drizzly, grey days. My hope of ever seeing the sun, color, or bloom again was fading quickly. I couldn't at this point exactly be held accountable for the grocery budget; could I?

Somehow those luscious tulips got into my basket and I made a firm decision. The children would be eating Honey Nut O's until the end of the month. No Chocolate Cheerios. Cost of 2 boxes of Chocolate Cheerios = Cost of Tulips. Do the math. These tulips were mine.

I felt like I had found a hidden secret, my own little stash of pink-hope-for-spring.

That afternoon I looked at blogs and found that pink tulips were popping up everywhere. It seems that others have also found their own private stash pink-hope-for-spring in their own shops.

These were from Uncommon Grace.

These from Beauty Does Matter. ::sigh::

Can you even imagine looking out your farmhouse window and seeing this sight? I do believe I'm hyperventilating.

My favorite, from Farmgirl Paints. Love the blue canning jar, love the rusted turquoise metal "box," love the vintage shakers. And, of course, love the pink tulips.

The sun is flickering on my tulips, I'm smiling, hope springs eternal. The kids will never miss those Cheerios.

I Hate Meatloaf . . . And Other Lies I Used to Believe

2012-01-26T08:24:00.000-05:00

Yesterday when posting about my youthful ideals of what a sister, a large family, and a dog were supposed to look like, I got to thinking about other lies I've believed. Lies that have thrown me completely for a loop in the past month.

Lies like:

A child will never knowingly cause more work for its mother by not cleaning up the empty chip bags, slowly warming gallon of milk, sticky peanut butter knife, dripped juice, spilled cereal, and discarded granola bar wrappers in the kitchen.

or

~~A bathroom used by 3 teen-aged boys should only need to be cleaned once a week.~~

~~A bathroom used by 3 teen-aged boys should only need to be cleaned three times a week.~~

A bathroom used by 3 teen-aged boys should only need to be cleaned once a day.

or

The level of excitement generated by a new knitting project will extend to the time of completion of said object.

or, to bring me to the subject of this post,

I hate meatloaf.

Yes, that last "I hate," as I have recently discovered, is a lie.

Because I just hadn't tasted this meatloaf.

This meatloaf is moist and juicy and light and bursting with flavor. It is airy, not compact; soft, not dry and hard. My children actually love it, and one requested to have it for leftovers the next night.

By the way, shouldn't "meatloaf" have another name? Isn't there something just slightly off-putting about the idea of meat and a loaf. Like those two concepts shouldn't come together in one name.

I googled "another name for meatloaf." The two sites that came up were "No Results Found" and an attempt to get me to read the lyrics of "Is Nothing Sacred." Wrong meatloaf.

So, I guess we're stuck. Meatloaf it is. But don't let the disappointment of all those past meatloafs keep you from trying this one.

It is Meat Succulence . . . to be sure.

Italian Turkey Meat ~~Loaf~~ Succulence (I double this for a family of 7)
1 large egg
Half a 14 1/2 ounce can diced tomatoes with Italian herbs, undrained
1/2 cup finely chopped onion
1/3 cup minced fresh parsley (Whoever has this on hand? I left it out. Never missed it.)
1/2 cup oats
1/3 cup grated Parmesan cheese
salt and pepper to taste
1/2 package Italian turkey sausages - removed from casings, about 4 sausages (You can get these just in the poultry section of the grocery store.)
1/2 pound ground turkey
1/3 cup spaghetti sauce

Preheat oven to 375.

In a large bowl, beat the egg and stir in tomatoes, onion, parsley, oats, Parmesan cheese, salt and pepper. Then mix in by hand the Italian turkey sausage and ground turkey just until blended. Form into a large meat loaf (meat succulence) on a baking sheet (like a jelly roll pan), patting to remove any air spaces. Bake for one hour. Top with spaghetti sauce and continue baking 15 minutes. Let stand 10 minutes before serving.

Still Glad

2012-01-25T09:24:00.001-05:00

I always wanted one of these.

A sister.

In my typical idealistic world view, a sister would be the ultimate confidante, the ultimate encourager, and, of course, we'd share the ultimate wardrobe!

I also believed that having a large family would be similar to living in the "Sound of Music" and having a dog would be be close to the experience of "Lassie." Some dreams die hard.

I'm still hopeful.

But with all the imperfections that having a sister might bring to one's life,

I'm still glad that both of my girls have one of these.

A sister.

Prairie Fire - A Return

2012-01-24T09:59:00.001-05:00

It's been eyeing me archly for months now. Then I started noticing the edges of an accusatory attitude. Which was followed up by full-on condemnation.

My Prairie Fire knitting.

I hadn't picked it up since spring 2011 blew in all warm and fragrant.

In my defense, I have to say that the Prairie Fire is very thick, warm and wooly . . . exactly why I chose the yarn. And while it is yummy to knit it in the damp cold of winter, once spring makes its entrance (and it makes its entrance early in the South!!) holding poundage of bulky, loosely woven wool across my lap begins to make me feel hot and slightly claustrophobic.

And then, there's the issue of moss stitch. Whose big idea was that? Instead of zinging down the rows with the continuous knit stitch of the very pedestrian garter stitch, I had to choose a stitch where I knit 1, throw the yarn, purl 1, throw the yarn, knit 1, throw the yarn, purl 1 . . . you get the idea.

And as a final blow, there have been other yarn-y type things that have caught my attention and made the previously infatuating Prairie Fire look downright dull.

Prairie Fire and I might have continued our standoff of condemnatory glances and cool disdain, if several things hadn't happened to bring me back to a place of commitment.

#1 - Days on end of cold, damp weather. Wet cold that seeps into the very bones.
#2 - Children's shivers upon awaking to a large, open house in cold, damp weather.
#3 - Hours spent supervising children's math, feeling crazy impatience about to drive me over the edge.

So, in the end, the combination of chill, motherly pride, and a desire for sanity led me to finally once again pick up the dear Prairie Fire.

In no time at all the knits and purls were coming quickly and easily. The bulky weight of the half-finished throw lay warm and comforting across my lap and up my waist.

Prairie Fire and I are once again in a relationship. Now, to finish it up before the warm breezes of spring come again and steal my focus!!

Muscadine Grape Jam

2012-01-20T15:07:00.002-05:00

Along with the rivers of hot tea I am consuming this winter to stave off internal chill, I am enjoying jars of autumn goodness that bring to mind the smells and coziness of fall.

That goodness is . . . Muscadine Grape Jam.

Please note hot tea and toast, looking lonely.

Enter Muscadine Grape Jam to bring the rustic sweetness of the vineyard right to my chilly winter table.

I have a friend who grows organic muscadines right on her property.

The grapes are harvested by these two little scamps of hers and delivered in bulging 2-pound bags, which I attempt to save for jam-making.

I regret to say that one day I lost all control and ate a full 1 1/2 pounds of muscadines straight out of the bag. I learned quickly that the human digestive system was not created for such.

My digestive system has no problem at all, however, with multiple cups of hot tea and a slice of ancient grain bread spread thickly with Muscadine Grape Jam.

Or maybe two.

Of Beads, Hemp, and Jack Sparrow

2012-01-19T08:26:00.000-05:00

Saturday morning I thrifted a cute unbleached linen blouse.

Saturday noon I decided the blouse needed a new necklace to go with it.

Saturday afternoon I picked up a box of mixed wood and bone beads and hemp cord at Hobby Lobby.

Saturday night, after completing dinner, cleaning up dinner, monitoring showers/baths, setting out clothes for Sunday, administering night-time prayers, hugs, and kisses, I finally got to start on my necklace, which of course was intended to be worn to church the next morning.

Love, love this beautiful collection of the wood and bone beads, mixed in with some odd beads of my own, collected from who knows where.

I started at 10:30 p.m. and invited along Johnny Depp in his current incarnation as Jack Sparrow, to give me some company and keep an eye on the progress.

Surrounded by all those interesting beads and the earthy black hemp twine, I felt as if I had perhaps found my new calling as a jewelry artist, complete with darling little tins of different beads, a set of intricate hand tools---pliers, crimpers, cutters, tweezers, and a small soldering gun.

Never mind that I was just stringing beads onto twine. The imagination of what could be has always been much more alluring than the reality of what is. ::sigh::

When I plunked myself down at 10:30 p.m., my initial thought was, "How long could this possibly take?" By 2:30 a.m. I knew that it actually could take exactly 4 hours to sort beads into appropriate patterns, string beads and knot string.

This may or may not have anything to do with the distraction of encouraging Jack Sparrow in his quest to once again be in possession of his Black Pearl.

I also realized at 2:30 a.m. that as fun as beading is, I do not have a new career in such laid out ahead of me.

And, also, that should I ever be so unfortunate as to wind up a stowaway on a pirate ship, Jack Sparrow would be an endlessly entertaining captain.

Hands in the Kitchen

2012-01-17T08:11:00.001-05:00

There is something very good about these pictures . . . very good indeed.

Male hands working in the kitchen. Mmmm-mmmm. I do love to see that. Or I guess I should say male hands that know what to do in the kitchen!! There are several pairs of male hands around this house that don't need to be in the kitchen!! They do many other things and do them well, but they don't need to be in the kitchen.

Okay . . . where was I?

Oh, yes, very good pictures, indeed.

Middle Son had a project: Research the origins of a recipe from a Spanish country, make that recipe, and present in class.

He picked salsa, and not just any salsa but Pioneer Woman's Restaurant Style Salsa. We're kind of picky about our salsa around here. Most especially, we're not all about a lot of chunks. And in Pioneer Woman's Restaurant Style Salsa, the blender takes care of all those disturbing chunks and makes it smooth as can be. And we are very happy.

These male hands chopped onion, pressed garlic, and sliced jalapenos. I sat and watched and felt joyful.

And then, when the salsa was made, I tasted and re-tasted and sneaked more when Middle Son wasn't looking.

Because it was really, really, really good!! Yummmmmmmmmmm!

How to Watch a Basketball Game

2012-01-16T10:15:00.002-05:00

7:15 pm - Arrive at game. Find that the Varsity Girls are still playing. Dig for the magazine that I have surreptitiously stowed in my purse. Drool over the cupcakes. Determine to have a "French Country Kitchen" by Thursday.

7:30 pm - Loudly cheer for Oldest Son's team coming on to the court. Admire his warm-up shots. Silently curse kit lens that came with my Nikon.

8:00 pm - First quarter break. Avoid eye contact with basketball-loving fans, including My Husband, while snatching up my magazine. Sigh over fabulous table setting idea.

8:05 - Second quarter begins. Resume loud cheering for Oldest Son and his team. Scold refs, encourage point guard, instruct Oldest Son as necessary.

8:20 pm - Half-time. Sneak more looks at my magazine. Remember that I have not had dinner and am wildly hungry. Salivate over cupcakes, tea, and candies of various delectable-ness.

Become totally distracted by the step team!

8:35 - Third quarter begins. Stuff magazine and cheer for Oldest Son and his team. Scold coach, mutter at opposing team's fans, admonish defense as necessary.

9:00 pm - Third quarter break. Realize that everyone has accepted that I love my magazine as much as the game of basketball. Notice female fan down the bleacher eyeing my "read" and wishing she had brought one of her own. File away cool idea of how to display a book.

9:05 pm - Enter into fourth quarter. Focus on taking pictures. Make increasingly loud comments to My Husband regarding the ability of my kit lens to get any decent pictures. Begin to list lenses that would improve my quality of life.

9:30 pm - Game over. Exit game, magazine safely stowed once again. Think how much I love watching my son play his game. Think how much I love looking at my magazine.

Perfectly Perfect

2012-01-13T08:47:00.002-05:00

In life, perfectly perfect things do not come along often.

So when they do, one must enjoy them to the full, celebrate them, drink them up!

Which brings me to the subject of my perfectly perfect new slippers.

Let's begin by saying that I am NOT a slipper person. In my opinion, slippers tend to make a person look frumpy and schlumpy. There is nothing worse than having someone meet you at the door with slippers that have been worn much longer than the manufacturer intended (for some slippers, that's just about a week) and are now an odd, faded color, fabric threadbare, fluff matted down, and let's not even talk about how a slipper can lose its ability to ever again look clean.

Instead, I have chosen to go barefoot in the house, summer and winter, so instead of looking frumpy and schlumpy, I have instead looked barefoot (occasionally pregnant---5 times to be exact) and cold.

Until now. Until I found the most perfectly perfect pair of slippers ever, ever.

Aren't they the cutest? Suede upper, stitch-y look, fur for a little style, nice hard sole for running out to the mailbox, inexpensive, warm.

If I wear them enough, now, the cracks and callouses on my heels may actually one day be soft again. Slippers can be a good thing. Who knew?

If you just must have a pair, Target has them here.

Come to think of it, I may just order another pair to replace these when they inevitably wear out. After all, in life, perfectly perfect things do not come along often.

Quick Turkey Enchiladas

2012-01-11T10:27:00.001-05:00

There are 3 reasons I love this meal:

#1 - They're quick - meaning I can decide to make them an hour before dinner time and still have them on the table at the prescribed moment, meaning I can feel like something really did go right with my day.

#2 - They're turkey - meaning I don't feel heavy and gorged when I finish eating them, meaning they're light but totally delicious!!

#3 - They're enchiladas - meaning it's Mexican food, meaning it's flavorful and slightly spicy, meaning my family loves it. My family really could eat Mexican food meal after meal after meal after meal after meal ......

This recipe is adapted from an American Test Kitchen recipe.

Quick Turkey enchiladas are especially comforting on a grey . . . drippy . . . overcast . . . drizzly day. Like today.

Give me something warm and scrumptious!

Quick Turkey Enchiladas (serves 4 . . . I double it for the 7 of us)

1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 onion, chopped fine
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 pound ground turkey
3 cups shredded Monterey Jack cheese
2 1/2 cans red enchilada sauce (you will need 2 10-ounce cans of enchilada sauce)
1/4 cup drained sliced pickled jalapenos, chopped (I left these out . . . too spicy for little mouths . . . husband very disappointed)
1/2 cup chopped fresh cilantro
salt and pepper to taste
10 6-inch corn tortillas

Heat oven to 400. Grease 13x9 baking dish. Heat oil in large skilled over medium-high heat until shimmering. Add onion and cook until lightly browned, about 5 minutes. Add garlic and cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Stir in turkey and cook until no longer pink, about 5 minutes. Stir in 2 cups of cheese, 1/2 cup enchilada sauce, jalapenos, and cilantro. Season with salt and pepper.

Stack tortillas on plate, wrap with plastic and microwave until pliable, about 1 minute. Top each tortilla with 1/4 cup turkey mixture and roll tightly. Please seam-side down in prepared baking dish and spray lightly with cooking spray. Top with additional 1 cup enchilada sauce and remaining cheese; cover with foil. Bake 10 minuntes, remove foil, and continue baking until cheese is completely melted, about 5 minutes longer. Serve, passing remaining heated enchilada sauce at table.

On Being Ancient

2012-01-10T07:53:00.000-05:00

There was one more find that came through the door after my flea market spree.

A 1963 Royal portable manual typewriter.

Sweet!

When I opened it up, the children stood around in awed silence.

They waited for a screen to appear above the keys. None did.

"Does it come with paper?" one asked after awhile.

The next several hours were filled with jostling back and forth, jockeying for a turn on The Wonderful Machine. This was mixed in with chimes of discovery:

"Mom, if you type far enough, a bell dings!!"

"Hey, if you hit the keys too fast, the letter arms get stuck together!"

"Wow . . . when you press the silver bar on the left, the paper rolls up to just the right spot so you can start typing on the next line!"

"You sure have to press hard on these keys to make them work!"

It was as foreign to them as creating butter with a churn. As fascinatingly unknown as exploring Eli Whitney's original cotton gin might be.

And I was amazed that something so common and unremarkable from my childhood should be an object of such awe, wonder and marvel to my children.

A similar typewriter sat on my grandma's table, and she routinely drummed out fascinating letters to her children and grandchildren spread out over the globe. I feel pretty sure some model of manual typewriter was probably in a closet somewhere as I grew up, as un-exceptional and ordinary as the folding chair leaning up next to it.

But now, being brought face to face with a 1963 Royal, my children felt like explorers investigating an artifact from some past culture.

Me? Well, I just felt . . . ancient.

Finding!

2012-01-06T07:13:00.000-05:00

Wow but don't I feel like Cinderella come late to the party. After watching beautiful blog by beautiful blog show their "finds" at the thrift store or the flea market or their neighbors curbside garbage, today I get to show my finds from my first day ever of flea market searching.

Uh, maybe not quite "searching." When it is 19 degrees out and only 10 vendors have bothered to show up at risk of hypothermia, it might not exactly be called "searching." Rather, glancing . . . spotting . . . sighting.

Love, love, love these sweet little bottles. In case you wanted to know, Kreml is a hair tonic from the 30's. Yes, I'm quite the little storehouse of vintage knowledge now. ::ahem:: I have them up behind my sink, and since pansies flourish in these parts all winter long, I can enjoy those chipper little pansy faces while doing my dishes. Sweet!

Old well wheel, cocoa box, pitcher and 3 cent milk bottle. Rustic, worn, used. Makes me smile. I think I'll do a few little vignettes on top of my cupboards.

The Man of the House looked slightly bewildered. I told him I had "finds," and he pictured a new piece of furniture that became mine for $10. He did not, however picture rusted metal, old glass and worn silver.

This could be a frustrating new obsession. Poor man.

Picking!

2012-01-05T07:45:00.002-05:00

Well, there's been more than a little watching of American Pickers over Christmas break. Goodness I love that show! And between that show and great blogs from flea market lovers and Flea Market Style Magazine, I decided that it was high time to actually visit a flea market. Youngest Son was more than game to come along.

Last week of Christmas break, needing a little something fun to do, let's do it.

Never mind that after a mild winter, the very day we chose to go was smack dab in the middle of a cold front!

Actually, by the time we got to the flea market, the nice little windshield was informing us that it was, indeed only 19 degrees!!

If it looks to you like there are a lot of empty tables at the flea market, well, you would be doggone right. There weren't many brave souls buying or selling in the 19 degree weather.

But there were some. And Youngest Son and I had a blast . . . searching, bartering, discovering . . . the condensation of our breath in the icy air so thick we could scarcely see each other.

I'll show you my sweet little finds tomorrow.

Me and Youngest Son . . . the newest American pickers.

Winter Table

2012-01-04T07:05:00.004-05:00

Here's what my winter table is looking like. Christmas colors, but not Christmas-y enough to need to remove with the reindeer, ornaments and nativity.

Collected bottles, a wrapping of burlap, tied with twine. Mixture of daisies and mums. Various fresh greenery laying on the burlap runner.

Simple, common, beautiful nature. Just the way I like my table!

Infuriating But Irresistible

2012-01-03T08:45:00.002-05:00

raspberrytart.tumblr.com

Those infuriating, irresistible, frustrating, seductive things called "Resolutions."

I think they are overrated and reek of self-effort, which quite frankly has not gotten me very far in life.

And yet, are they not seductive . . . new year, fresh start, and unbruised hope.

No, I cannot resist. What is a new year without a few goals. Yes, we'll call them goals.

I had to show you the beautiful picture above because I would have hated to have started out this post with this:

Goal #1 - Drawers/Cupboards/Pantries/Closets of the M Household. There is a slight chance that by beginning to work toward this goal on 1/3/2012 they may be able to be organized, decluttered, corralled and brought under control by the dawn of 2013.

Goal #2 - Early to Bed / Early to Rise (see beautiful sunrise picture above). I know in my heart this works. Convincing my body of this truth is quite another matter.

abbeytreks.com.np

Goal #3 - More time spent out of doors with the three youngers . . . biking, hiking, enjoying creation. Okay, so this is taken in Nepal and shows a professional mountain-biker riding an expensive mountain-bike, none of which has anything to do with my current situation. But it is inspiring, no?

Goal #4 - Make meal plans, make shopping lists, grocery shop. Repeat every 2 weeks. No more of this running to Publix at 5:30 every night desperately hoping for inexpensive, quick and delicious inspiration to hit.

Goal #5 - Finish this lap blanket. My children have been waiting for winter warmth for a year and a half now. How can I continue to deny them?

Goal #6 - Begin my day with the enjoyable habit of a quick blog post and delightful visits to the blogs of other creative souls out there who inspire my day.

And if, as 2012 comes to an end, these goals remain elusive dreams, then I will wake up at the dawn of 2013 with yet another new year before me, with a fresh start and another healthy dose of unbruised hope.

Old Calendar::New Calendar

2012-01-02T01:09:00.002-05:00

And so, in traditional New Year's Day fashion, the 2011 calendar was removed and the 2012 put in its place.

Wow, it was so past time for a new calendar. The 2011 calendar had had it. Over the course of the year, ripped from its cover, scribbled on by little hands, hanging hole ripped through repeatedly and taped, re-taped and then re-re-taped to keep it together. Plans made, plans crossed out, things scheduled so quickly that the writing was illegible when the date arrived, and we were left scratching our heads and wondering where exactly it was so important to be at 5:30 p.m. on that day. Knocked down, spilled on, glued, and yet, somehow still holding together on December 31st . . . if only barely.

A fitting metaphor for our life as a family, really, not just this year but every year. Rips and mends, schedules and changes, messy scribbles side by side with neat script, always a slight bit of confusion (at times more than others!), and yet, amazingly, still holding together at the end of the year.

And now, up goes a spotless, fresh calendar, with all the promise of empty boxes in which to write. A scrumptious new calendar of porches, looking out over landscapes of Italy, Montana, Maine, Greece . . . ::sigh::

A year to write on, mess up, fix and correct. May we find ourselves, at the end of the year, still holding together.

No, not holding together . . . but instead, held together!

He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together!!

Choosing Home

2011-12-31T21:38:00.001-05:00

2011 said "good night" in a blaze of fuschia, orange and gold. And surprisingly all but one of us are home!! We had a NYE party invitation . . . fun times out in the country, munching on "breakfast for dinner," warming ourselves by a roaring bonfire.

But this year, I wanted none of it. I wanted the calm four walls of my house, where I could sit and stare at one of those four walls if I so chose.

As it turns out, I am instead choosing to play King's Corner; layer crumbs, pecans, chips, coconut and sweet milk for the ever-popular Magic Bars; and watch the glittery ball drop at midnight.

It's good to be home tonight.

Good night, 2011 . . . good morning 2012!

Things Accomplished, Things Relinquished

2011-12-28T15:57:00.000-05:00

At Christmastime, you can't do it all. You just can't. Well . . . at least I can't. I try not to think evil thoughts about those that seem to.

This year, something I really wanted to do was to put a little time into wrapping presents. Our tree was vintage papers and gold and lime green, and I really wanted a natural look with the lime green touch for the presents too.

Usually, I get around to wrapping all my gifts at about 11:00 p.m. on Christmas Eve and am doing well to throw some Target paper around the present and locate the Scotch tape. That would be a good Christmas Eve.

This year, the presents were wrapped slightly earlier with some stamping, curling of ribbon, stuffing of tissue, punching (of different papers . . . not of family members) and gluing. And then I arranged the lime and natural brown presents under the lime and natural brown tree and . . . oh, my heart!! Worth every minute. ::sigh:: Even worth seeing the presents ripped to shreds by teen-aged males without so much as a cursory glance at the stamping, curling, and artfully arranging. Still worth it.

On the other hand, I relinquished all Christmas baking. Yes, all. I just never got to it. With 4 now that struggle with wheat, many of the recipes just aren't the same with the GF mix. And I was just never in the mood. Not this year.

Well, I take that back. In a fit of motherly guilt, I did throw together one small recipe of GF sugar cookies on Christmas Eve, let Youngest Daughter press out the bells and trees, and angels and then hurriedly frost.

Hardly to be called Christmas "baking." More like a quick Christmas craft project. But it made both of us feel better . . . she more creative, me more of a good Christmas-mom . . . a win/win to be sure.

Before We Leave the Subject of Christmas Decor . . .

2011-12-18T17:09:00.000-05:00

Remember the child who was so desperate for Christmas decorations that she taped pieces of green and red thread to her wall?

Yes, this one:

Well, I can't leave the subject of Christmas decor without giving you a little peek in to her room.

Between school crafts and my cast off decorating goodies from year's past, she has managed to "decorate" every square inch of her bedroom . . . bringing herself much Christmas delight and good cheer.

Shiny red Christmas garland, snipped into little bits and taped (and apparently re-taped and re-taped)

onto pieces of furniture, walls, and windows.

Santa stickers peeled and stuck with abandon onto other un-Christmas-y pieces of decor.

A little Rudolph for the door.

Gold ribbon to accent her wall art . . . 4 glittery ornaments taped on for good measure.

All dresser knobs sporting shiny Christmas balls and someValentine's (!!) ribbon to bring in a little red.

Crowning achievement: Bookshelf stuffed with Christmas balls, golden crown, Christmas carousel, Rudolph, Christmas stickers, figurines, gingerbread boy, and some out-of-place white poinsettias.

I do fully expect that one day I will drive up to this child's suburban home and find a molded plastic Santa in her front yard, pulled by 6 pink flamingos. Things just seem to be headed that way in the decor department.

Wreath with (more) Vintage Paper

2011-12-16T00:29:00.000-05:00

Since I am soundly in love with my vintage paper strips, and since there were plenty,

I decided to use them as a "ribbon" for the front door wreath. I just turned the strips in to loops (instead of circles this time!) and then used the long strips as long, flat ribbon.
.

Loving the vintage, woodsy feel, with red berries, pine cones, and a sweet little "bottlebrush" bird.

The best part of my wreath? At night, with the light of the house shining through the glass door, it fairly glows!

Peppermint Winter

2011-12-13T02:59:00.001-05:00

I have a child who moves very slowly. Life in this child's world is still in the horse and carriage stage . . . and make that a very slow horse, by the way.

Add in to this picture that this child is also very easily distracted.

There are two problems with this scenario.

#1 - My mind never stands still.

#2 - I teach math to this child.

Math sessions usually consist of me giving the child a scenario involving Bill, his desire to purchase lumber, and the necessity of determining how much lumber Bill should purchase. And ten minutes later finding, not a tidy multiplication problem on the paper, but instead small detailed sketches of a rocket ship, a medieval dagger, and a quadruple dip ice cream cone . . . chocolate chip on top.

This may sound charming, but if all you want is to get through a math lesson, it can be very trying to have this happen on all 27 problems of the chapter "Multiplication in the Real World."

::sigh::

So sometimes this mother/math teacher becomes impatient, irritable, and sharp-tongued . . . and that's only by problem #7.

This week, as we inched through problem #23, with admonitions of, "Focus! No drawing! Look at your paper!" this child looked at me and said, "Mom, you seem stressed. Just a minute."

With a click of the mouse, we moved off of "Multiplication in the Real World" to I-Tunes. And then floating through my speakers came Owl City's "Peppermint Winter."

We completed problem #23 with "Peppermint Winter" soothing my nerves, starting at the base of my neck and unwrinkling each kink to the tips of my fingers and toes.

The beautiful thing is . . . "Peppermint Winter" had me so relaxed and unwound that by the time the song was over, I didn't care about the amount of lumber Bill purchased or even whether Bill purchased lumber . . . or perhaps changed his mind and decided to bake a yule log instead.

So . . . if you are feeling a little Christmas stress, 15 more things on your to do list than can feasibly be accomplished, the knowledge that guaranteed by Christmas shipping ends this week, etc., you must listen to "Peppermint Winter" (link below).

If it can get me through 1 hour and 48 minutes of "Multiplication in the Real World," there's no telling what it could do for you!

Listen to "Peppermint Winter"

Paper Chain a la Vintage Book

2011-12-09T17:06:00.001-05:00

Somewhere out in the vast expanse of Blogland, I got a couple of ideas and put them together and came up with a plan that I had to have for our tree this year.

I decided to make a paper chain for our tree out of a vintage book and then glitter one edge of the paper chain. Yummy.

First stop was Kinko's, where they cut off the binding of a 1940's book and then sliced the pages into thirds, lengthwise. Alfredo was my Kinko's assistant, and, my, did the two of us have a time oooh-ing and aaah-ing over the warm, old pages, the bending of the strips into circles, the bliss that was to be my gilded vintage paper chain. He told me about the garland he had made out of the pages of a vintage book . . . the folding, the wrapping, the draping. The two of us stood there, enraptured, loving the other's idea, hands over our heart to still the wild, creative beating. (Even better, he decided not to charge me!)

Once home, I turned half of my strips into circles, with glue and clothespins and left the other half as strips.

After filling a bowl with glue and another with chunky gold glitter, I dipped one edge of all the circles into glue and then glitter.

And then one edge of all the strips was dipped into glue and then glitter.

For several days, there was endless assembling, pinning, drying . . . and then finally the chain garland was lowered over the banister and draped around the tree.

I think Alfredo would be proud.

Going Natural (or How a Cat Got Us Off Track and a Dog Corrected the Matter)

2011-12-07T12:58:00.001-05:00

Back in the good old days of the "M" family, it was a real Christmas tree all the way! Every year.

Love the smell! Love the feel!! Even love the ever-dropping, vacuum clogging needles.

And then into our lives came a cat. A cat with a Christmas problem. Vienna loved gnawing on real Christmas tree needles . . . juicy, crunchy, pungent with Christmas smell. Only problem was, her tummy couldn't take it, and she quickly vomited it up.

And so that was her Christmas . . . irresistible urge to partake . . . undeniable urge to vomit. On living room carpet, corners or couches, and at the puddling bottom of long draperies.

Since this was clearly not going to work, out went the soul-satisfying ideal of the real Christmas tree and in came a steady procession of artificial Christmas trees . . . complete with whole sections of pre-lit branches that wouldn't light, a steady shedding of PVC needles, and the annual stuffing of the 9.5' tree into a box clearly made for it's 6.5' foot cousin.

Last year, seeing as the cat was no longer with us, the dogs took things into their own strong paws.

While we were away at a Christmas party one evening, the dogs apparently had had their fill of Christmas. It appears that one dog may have gotten his leash wrapped around the base of the tree. And then in a fit of panicked angst fought the Christmas tree for his freedom.

When we came home, the giant tree was languishing on its side, large chunks of its PVC green-ness crushed and bent, and the newly purchased stand with all four of its tough green legs snapped off cleanly.

What had been started by a cat had now been finished by a dog.

So, this year found the "M" family happily purchasing a one-time-use-only, real Christmas tree . . . complete with smell, feel, and dropping needles.

Mmmmmmm.

The shop trimmed it, bagged it, and stuck in all the trimmed goodness to tuck into corners,

on top of the refrigerator,

and coming down the bannister.

Sometimes it just takes a dog to put things to rights.

Decorating Desperation

2011-12-01T00:56:00.000-05:00

One must assume, if your Youngest Daughter comes to you and requests spools of red and green thread,

and then proceeds to snip the thread in pieces and tape loopy strands of red and green to her bedroom walls,

that this child must be quietly desperate for some Christmas decor.

It is only fair, then, to provide some Christmas decor for the family quite urgently. And I intend to comply.

More to come!

At Summer's End

2011-09-26T09:55:00.000-04:00

And so . . . summer comes to an end. The last time I posted was the week before the official beginning of summer and now I am posting the week after the official ending of summer.

And somewhere in there, we had a summer.

I think.

Fortunately, there are images captured digitally that assure me that despite feelings to the contrary a summer was experienced and enjoyed.

There was lots of time ker-splashing at the pool; books were read; a pool party was hosted; and we spent days toasting ourselves in the sun and breathing in fresh sea breezes.

There was time to take morning walks all summer and enjoy peaceful nooks; Oldest Daughter got launched on her way to a college degree; we cheered for the liftoff of hot air balloons; kids were dropped off and picked up at camp.

Birthdays were celebrated (this one with a Monkey Bread birthday cake); a bit of knitting was accomplished (love the Ball Band pattern!!); late summer scuppernongs were savored (someone in the family ate a gallon in 36 hours . . . not saying who but I might have felt slightly tipsy for a day or two); mom and daughter pedicures were enjoyed (although I will decline any further photography with Oldest Daughter's long and elegant feet/toes next to my very prosaic and functional feet. ::sigh::

And now I can feel the cool air of fall around the edges of the day and a gray, drizzly rain slides down the windows. This is my season. I embrace it!

But it is nice to know that somewhere in the last 3 months . . . we had a summer.

Gardening Creativity

2011-06-15T16:55:00.001-04:00

Hydrangeas always catch my attention!!

But on my morning walkabout, there was something a little different that caught my eye . . . a splash of pink right in the middle of the beautiful blues.

What?? Eye-catching! Sweet! Unique! Definitely worth closer inspection.

Closer inspection reveals a clear glass bottle, copper-wired to a branch.

Branch shoved into the ground.

Glass bottle filled with pink alstroemeria. Lovely against the blue and green background.

Is there no end to my neighbors' gardening creativity?

Shabby chic . . . flea market style . . . in the garden.

Love!

Summery Table

2011-06-13T10:35:00.001-04:00

Wow! If you take a look at this blog, you would assume that I graduated my Oldest Daughter and then drowned my sorrows in a large crock of pickles and fell off the end of the earth.

Not completely true. Actually, my brain and body stopped after all the busy-ness of the year and once stopped, refused to be prodded once again to action.

I do also confess to some emotional breakdowns and a few pickles.

But all seems to once again be moving and alive and straightening out.

I can tell by the state of my dining room table.

Until this weekend, it was covered with a droopy cloth leftover from company use weeks ago. There were stacks of "to do," "to mail," and "to put away" piles here and there. Someone had cut up paper and left shreds scattered across the length. An odd stapler was lying haphazardly on its side. Several vases stood empty, having weeks ago been emptied of their faded contents.

But no more.

This weekend the table was stripped of its mess. Polished. And set to rights. And I love how everything in the middle of my summer table reminds me of some of my favorite summer things.

Cool crisp cotton in a buttery yellow.

Punched tin lanterns with light glowing through.

IBC Root Beer bottles.

Filmy, fluttery flowers of the crepe myrtle.

Yep, I'm back. The table is cleared and organized. And that table is a pretty clear window into the state of my mind.

Pickles!

2011-06-01T11:37:00.002-04:00

So, company came and company left. And one thing they left behind was pickles.

Pickles sent along from My Husband's Mom.

They aren't just pickles.

They are legacy . . . journal . . . memory.

90 year-old mother-in-law is not canning pickles anymore. She stopped several years ago when she stopped planting her sprawling garden. And with that stopped the legacy of Mom M's canned pickles.

She grew a certain kind of cucumber in her own garden. She grew the dill in her own garden. And she had a magic recipe that included this produce, vinegar, and water.

Oh, the water.

Husband and his siblings have memories of going down the road to pump well water to be brought back for the canning of the pickles. Well water . . . not flavor-marred piped water.

Over time, when she lost her well-water-fetching work force, she did condescend to using piped-in water.

The source of the water was carefully noted on ripped-off pieces of masking tape, stuck to the jars.

Which brings me to the "journal" aspect of Mom's canned pickles. As she canned, she made note of interesting life events, quantities and experiments, and, of course, the water source and its effect on the final quality of the pickles.

These little ripped masking tape "journals" show what was on Mom's mind as she canned:

"Too much salt?"

"1 inch rain - thankful"

"Nieces at 2000 World Fair"

"Pastor thinks too much vinegar"

These old Ball jars with their rubber rings, zinc lids, tightly fitted cucumbers and clusters of dill squished in the bottom are a connection to family history. A tongue-tingling sour memory of a Mom's gift to her family.

I now have 4 jars of these pickles on the shelf of my pantry.

I don't want to open them.

She Graduated!

2011-05-22T21:00:00.000-04:00

I've disappeared from Blogland while I've purchased frames, pressed gown, entertained family, planned college schedules, enrolled Oldest Daughter, attended parties, and snapped pictures.

I've missed the comforting peek into your lives and sharing the daily-ness of mine.

See you soon!

Why We Blog (and Winner!)

2011-05-16T08:26:00.000-04:00

It was so fun to read everyone's responses to what draws you to blogging.

Not surprisingly, lots of us find that friendships, relationships, connections with other bloggers, and conversation are big reasons to read and write in Blogland.

(flikr)

Like Lisa said, "I first started reading blogs because I didn't have anyone IRL that shared my not-so-mainstream interests."
We also love creating and then sharing our creations:

color my world

We enter Blogland for eye candy ::sigh:: :

color my world

or Inspiration:

color my world

Gerry uses blogging to track progress on her projects and to keep family up to date on what she's up to:

color my world

It was so much fun to read your responses. And find out we're pretty much all the same . . . women reaching out to women across Blogland.

So . . . I popped your names into my beautiful swirly bowl:

And the giveaway winner is:

Congratulations, Tracey! Send me your address (my e-mail address is in the side bar) and your package is ready to come to you!

Thanks everyone for another wonderful, fun year of blogging!

color my world

Amazement

2011-05-13T15:58:00.001-04:00

(Photos by the very talented Naisang Photography)

I knew to expect how fast it comes . . .

graduation

independence

beginnings of adulthood.

I just didn't know to expect

the feelings of

joy

and

amazement

That somehow I have brought

a soul from birth to adulthood.

I remember bad dreams

in which I'd forgotten I had a baby

left it at home

neglected to feed it.

I'm just that absent-minded.

I didn't doubt it could happen.

But somehow it didn't.

I've remembered to

clothe

feed

and nurture

this child.

And now she is grown

and healthy

and whole.

And I find that

nothing short of

a miracle of grace.

(don't forget the enjoyable blogs giveaway - enter through Friday)

Compassion

2011-05-11T08:08:00.005-04:00

tiny white daisies

At moments like these [pain, struggle, suffering],

Jesus never delivered sermons about judgment

or the need to accept God's mysterious providence.

Instead he responded with compassion---

a word from Latin which simply means "to suffer with"---

and comfort and healing.

God stands on the side of those who suffer.

-- Phillip Yancey

Idealistic Dreams

2011-05-08T23:40:00.001-04:00

(don't forget the enjoyable blogs giveaway - enter through Friday)

We all have dreams for our children's lives.

My dream has my children living on 10 acres, out in the country . . . tossing scratch to the chickens . . . weeding our large garden . . . saddling up their horses and running through meadows of wildflowers.

Never mind that chickens scare me or that I can't even remember to water my 2 tomato plants or that the kids don't keep the two dogs brushed, fed, and watered, let alone a barn-full of horses.

Never mind reality.

Let me live in my idealistic world.

Where Youngest Son spends his afternoons vigorously currying the horses.

(I said vigorously, Dear!)

And where Middle Son is passionately involved with the hoof-cleaning and shoeing of horses.

(Passionately, Love!)

Yes, these are the dreams I have for my children.

And if you can't have it in reality,

An afternoon at the Horse Ranch will also do quite nicely.

Reasons to Celebrate - Enjoyable Blogs Giveaway

2011-05-05T18:09:00.001-04:00

Back in February I was click-click-clicking away at the computer when Youngest Son popped his head around the corner and crowed:

"Guess what today is!!!???"

My heart sank. Did we miss a doctor's appointment . . . a friend's birthday party . . . a report due date. I braced myself.

"It's your two-year blogging anniversary!!!"

Oh my . . . so it was!! But it has taken me 3 months to finally getting around to having the celebration.

And that is because winter basketball season was ending, spring soccer season was starting, and fall volleyball was scheduling.

And I was whirling.

But last night we put a pretty bow on the sports year with a big Athletic Banquet and said goodbye to sports season '10/'11. ::sigh::

So, between making it through this year's school sports and having a bloggy anniversary, the time is naturally quite right for a giveaway. And this time I'm making it a Favorite Blogs Giveaway with 3 items from 3 enjoyable blogs.

First up is Pioneer Woman. Have you read her new book? If not, here's your chance:

Pioneer Woman makes me smile and sometimes scratch my head and say, "Huh??" But she's always real and delightfully imperfect

Secondly, I'm giving away 3 little adorable notebooks from Dottie Angel's quirky blog:

They're about 4" x 6" with ruled paper inside. Just fun for popping in your purse or keeping lists on the kitchen counter or whatever it is you just must jot down.

And then for those of you who have never had the delight of hand-knitted dishcloths and must try them and for those of you who already love them and need more, I have 2 of the famous waffle-knit cloths from Deb at Homespun Living.

Just leave a comment and tell me what keeps drawing you back to blogging (whether reading or writing) and you'll be entered to win.

Here's to a few months with only minimal sports responsibilities and another new year of chatting away with you!

Bread Slabs - Gluten-Free

2011-04-28T20:39:00.002-04:00

Sometimes, in the course of a meal, along comes a recipe that saves the day.

Such was the case on Sunday, Easter.

And the recipe was the chewy and savory Basil/Rosemary Bread Slabs from my wonderful, favorite, cookbook, Cooking for Isaiah.

The star of the show was to be the delicious and elegant Chicken Broccoli Rolls in Wine Sauce. Yes, "was to be."

As it turns out, the 2nd page of the 3-page recipe was completely gone . . . missing . . . mislaid . . .disappeared. And so I had to draw on my memory of a dish I hadn't made in 10 years.

As is so often the case, recipes trump memory.

I distinctly heard someone on the other side of the table comment that the dish tasted rather like creamed tuna on toast. ::sigh:: And Oldest Son responded, quietly, that maybe Easter dinner wasn't the perfect time to bring out old, unfamiliar recipes.

It is at times like this that I am really, really, really glad that I have a family-pleasing recipe like "Bread Slabs" to save the day. And they're gluten-free to boot!

Gotta love these little darlings!

18 Years of Easter Baskets

2011-04-26T23:15:00.000-04:00

This Easter, there were 3 changes that I wanted to make for me . . . just this year . . . but maybe to be repeated. Just 3 little changes, but they did leave me with a bunch of bubbly happiness on the inside.

#1 - I white-washed the garish, carnival-colored Easter baskets:

BEFORE:

AFTER:

Ah, delightful.

The boys were mortified . . . simply mortified.

Oldest Son's Clemson-orange basket was suddenly a very soft, rosy, bunny-ear color.

Middle Son's screaming purple became a delicate lilac.

He mourned for a day.

I remained unmoved.

Youngest Son, in desperation took his green and blue basket and headed for the hills.

It didn't resurface until Saturday night.

#2 - I did not visit Target or Wal-Mart to fill Easter baskets:

Instead I went to Fresh Market and bought things like

white chocolate pretzels with Easter-y swirls

mounds of German gummy bears

peanut butter-filled eggs

watermelon taffy

Australian licorice

and Lindt milk chocolate bunnies.

It made me so happy.

A treat just for me. I'm sure the kids would just as soon have had the
junky stuff!

Because the candy was more expensive, I bought less.

And that was a good thing too!

#3 - No eggs this year.

I know . . . I almost felt criminal.

I just didn't want to do eggs this year . . . in any form.

I didn't color them, hide them, serve them, or decorate with them.

Instead, I gathered the yummy candies into little tissue paper pouches,

plopped them in the baskets,

and the baskets were waiting on the table Easter morning.

I loved the simplicity, and I think they turned out cute.

It's amazing how refreshing changing up things a little can be.

Taking off the pressure of expectations.

Choosing less but better quality.

Freshening up what looks old and tired, instead of buying new.

Making the holiday special for me too.

And after 18 years of Easter baskets, I needed that.

A Fitting

2011-04-22T08:50:00.002-04:00

First step toward the magical moment of GRADUATION . . . fitting of Junior-Senior/Prom dress.

A gift of a dress.

Couldn't find one long enough for 5'11" Oldest Daughter in all of town.

Gave up on going to the party.

Expected instead to sit at home and watch dejectedly

as the pics were uploaded onto Facebook.

Suddenly, surprised by finding another shop . . . finding a dress . . . long enough for these long legs.

A sweet gift from God, letting her know He's with her in every detail

As she moves through . . .

Each step.

Pioneer Woman and Balance and Home

2011-04-19T15:30:00.004-04:00

I like Pioneer Woman.

She makes me feel like she's just another mom, like me . . . even if she did write a cookbook,
publish her love story, and appear on all the morning shows.

If you read her blog, you can see she's pulling back a little lately on her schedule.

She mentioned (on this post) a new upcoming opportunity and then added:

And most of all, it’s something fun I can do without ever leaving [home].

And I’ve learned that the more I apply that filter to the things I want to do,

the more my life tends to stay in balance.

And balance, I’ve learned firsthand, is a beautiful, wonderful thing.

Home.

There's something very centering about being there.

And not even just "being there" physically.

But "being there" emotionally.

Heart, soul, body and mind.

Home keeps me humble, focused, and . . . yes . . . balanced.

It is a "beautiful, wonderful thing."

Yep, me and Pioneer Woman . . . just 2 BFFs learning life together.

(all pictures courtesy of tiny white daisies)

Birds These Days

2011-04-17T15:54:00.000-04:00

There's not much that is more full of promise, hope and expectation than nests in the spring!

The birds in our neighborhood seem to be quite challenged, however, in their building abilities, site selection and decisiveness.

For example, one bird worked away diligently in our zelcova tree and then later in the day, as Youngest Daughter and I walked under the tree, the nest came down with a plop right in front of us. Back to Engineering 101 for that bird.

Youngest Daughter filled it with little pink flowers instead of the eggs for which it was meant.

And then you may remember the mourning dove that chose our hanging pansy planter in which to begin her nest and then left in a flurry of stress and distraction.

Well, apparently not having found any other spot to suit her completely, she is back and has laid 2 adorable eggs. She's become used to children, dogs, and life going on just under the bottom of her basket. Papa Bird, however, has not become accustomed and cannot reconcile himself to Mama's indecisiveness. He sits up on the roof ledge just waiting for Mama to grow exasperated again, so he can say, "I told you so." Humph.

And then there is the bird with the impaired site selection ability. This bird chose, of all places, the 24' x 45' fenced area in which we keep our two large, boisterous, and bird-o-phobic dogs. Somehow this bird built its nest within dog-reaching range and managed to get an egg laid before she realized that she must have had a migraine when choosing her location. She abandoned her nest while her life was still her own.

Youngest Daughter and I rescued it, and it sits on a shelf in her room, looking sweet and springy. Just love those touches of blue the bird chose to weave in her nest! Nest built right in the jaws of danger . . . but it sure was beautiful.

Really . . . what are they teaching birds these days!!

Necessary Knitting

2011-04-15T15:35:00.000-04:00

There are all kinds of reasons to knit.

Today I'm starting some necessary knitting. My dishcloths are in shreds, and once you use a knitted cotton dishcloth, there is no going back to some other cheap substitute!

Let me just insert here that as pretty as lace-patterned dishcloths may look, they just can't stand up to the wear and tear of every day use in a family of 7. Leave the beauty in your drawer and just pop it out when company comes so they will think you always indulge in such luxury of freshly-knitted, lace-patterned, bright red dishcloths.

I'm looking forward to starting this dishcloth by Mason-Dixon. Love the bright colors and the nice, tight stitching. No more sissy lace-knit dishcloths for this family.

Sun-Dried Tomato Artichoke Chicken

2011-04-13T07:46:00.001-04:00

Who needs another recipe of "something-to-do-with boneless-skinless-chicken-breasts"? Definitely me!!

So, when this fascinating offering came across my path, I snatched it up.

The chicken in itself is nothing special . . . lightly floured, salted, pan seared . . . yawn.

It's what the mixture of the sun-dried tomatoes, the artichokes, the wine and the lemon juice do that make magic. And it's quick and easy too.

Who could resist?

Sun-Dried Tomato Arthichoke Chicken

1 tsp. fresh thyme leaves (I was doing well to find the dried on the spice shelf)
1 3/4 pounds boneless, skinless chicken breasts
3/4 cup flour
2 tablespoons canola oil
1/2 cup white wine
Juice of 1 lemon (1 tablespoon)
1-14 ounce can quartered artichoke hearts (drained)
1/3 cup sun-dried tomatoes
2 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons grated Parmesan cheese

Cut chicken into 1-inch chunks. Preheat large saute' pan on medium-high for 2-3 minutes. Place flour and chicken in zip top bag, seal bag and shake to coat. Place oil in pan,then add chicken. Cook and stir 2-3 minutes or until lightly browned.

Stir in wine. Reduce heat to medium low. Cook 2-3 minutes or until liquid is slightly reduced.

Sprinkle lemon juice over chicken. Stir in remaining ingredients (except thyme and cheese) and cover. Cook 2-3 minutes. Remove pan from heat, stir in thyme, sprinkle with cheese. Yummmmmmmmmm!

I would like to add that should certain members of your family find the taste of wine, sun-dried tomatoes and artichokes not to their liking, the whole dish can also be thickly covered with barbeque sauce on their plate and still found quite enjoyable. ::sigh::

Dead Meat

2011-04-09T19:28:00.004-04:00

I am about to be in trouble.

It all started with this son.

Yes, this one.

And, of course, this one.

This child was never meant to live in a subdivision. Never meant to politely walk the dog down the street, quietly swing in the backyard, and never, ever allow the kickball to be kicked into the neighbor's yard.

No, he was meant to be out on some acreage somewhere, shooting his Airsoft gun, riding a 4-wheeler, climbing trees and biking up mountains.

And I tell him "no" all the time.

But this one time he and his friend asked to go out on the roof and up the roof and just sit there and feel the wind blow in their hair and talk about all the wild and daring adventures they would have if they only just could.

And after holding out for quite a long time, I finally said "yes," out loud to him and then spent a while muttering to myself little things like, "no one will ever know" . . . "it's only just this once" . . . and "if life were fair he would be somewhere rappelling down a mountain anyway."

I allowed it for one-half hour. I watched to make sure they were calmly sitting. I let them have their adventure.And then I called them down and thought smugly to myself that indeed I had gotten away with some quite bad mothering.

That was Friday.

And now it's Saturday. And I have just seen my vocal and opinionated Dear Neighbor walking across the front lawn and engaging My Husband in conversation. I see her wildly gesturing toward the peak of the roof. I see her extending her arms and waving them up and down. I see her stamping her foot and resting her hands aggravatedly on her hips. (She's actually a wonderful neighbor to have when there are pot holes to be filled or prowlers spotted or the electricity goes out. Quite wonderful indeed.)

The problem is that My Husband does not exactly see eye-to-eye on Middle Son's need for adventure and challenge. He comes from good, sensible Midwestern stock. Common sense, dependable people that do things like put shoes on when they go outside, push their chairs up to the table when they have completed their meal, and put away tools when they're through using them.

This dear man will not understand me letting Middle Son up on the roof for an adventure.

Yep, I'm about to be dead meat.

A Win/Win!

2011-04-07T23:21:00.001-04:00

It would be a good day indeed if each and every day I could find time to do something creative . . . knit for a nice, long, uninterrupted stretch . . . work on a page of my journal . . . cook a new recipe. But many days don't allow for that kind of time investment. So, it's helpful to put a little dollop of creativity here and there, even if it's as simple as getting Youngest Daughter's bed made really beautifully and smooth with all pillows plumped or arranging all my knitted dishcloths in their little wrought iron basket.

Today my little something creative was gathering up some leftovers that I've frozen over the week in small jars and containers, wrapping them with some twine, gluing on die-cut flowers and little notes and sharing with a friend who won't cook "just for herself." (I'm afraid she's living on Panera hot chocolate!)

She got:

* Chili with Tortilla Chips, Sour Cream, and Shredded Cheese
* Italian Chicken Rice Soup with fresh Parmesan and Italian Bread Squares
* Melon Smoothie
* Braeburn Apples and Caramel Dip
* Garlic Lime Chicken with Mashed Potatoes

I got:

* Yummy leftovers put to good use
* A chance to be creative
* The joy of sharing

A win/win situation all around; wouldn't you say?

Saturday Bagel Mornings

2011-04-05T23:52:00.001-04:00

When all the kiddos were little, a family tradition was born. Bagels on Saturday mornings.

About once a month the Man of the House heads out early, early to fight the crowds and bring home the prize . . . still-warm, mouth-watering, teeth-exercising bagels from the local bagel shop. Everyone gets their favorite:
Man of the House: Salt. Topped with copious amounts of crunchy, Kosher salt. How can this possibly be desireable?
Youngest Daughter: Asiago Cheese. Ripped into little pieces. Cream cheese spread on all the little pieces. Extremely time-consuming. There's a reason babies of the family grow up to think life is all about them. ::sigh::

Youngest Son: Cinnamon Sugar. Sticky. Gooey. Delicious.

Middle Son: Cinnamon Raisin. A classic.
Oldest Son: Jalapeno Cheese. And any other kinds that he can ferret out during the course of the day. Can easily down a half dozen. Burns it off playing basketball and generally keeping his 6'5" teenage body fueled.
Oldest Daughter: None. Gluten-intolerant. Knows she'll pay for any gluten indulgence. Walks away from it. Disciplined . . . tough.
Me: Sun-Dried Tomato/Spinach. Gluten-intolerant. Know I'll pay for any gluten indulgence. Gobble it down spread thickly with cream cheese and a tall glass of orange juice. Pathetically undisciplined . . . horribly weak-willed . . . hopelessly in love with Saturday Bagel Mornings.

Halfway There

2011-04-03T23:18:00.000-04:00

The blazing Prairie Fire throw is halfway done, and I still remain enchanted. I thought I'd be out of my mind with the knit one, purl one of the moss stitch by now. But instead, my fingers have started to move automatically and my mind can wander elsewhere as the stitches slip off the needle one by one.

I was, actually, going at a galloping pace with nary a slip-up, until the evening I was in the passenger's seat of the family vehicle while Oldest Son practiced his parallel parking and I was a-knitting and a-purling. Parallel parking just wasn't going right for him, the test was in the morning, he was stressed and frustrated, I was stressing and worrying for him, and before you knew it, the even bumps of the moss stitch had turned into the beginnings of some unwanted ribs.

Of course, that meant ripping out rows and backing up to the pre-parallel parking stitches. Most frustrating to be sure.

So, we're back at it. Knit, purl, knit, purl. There will be some lovely warm toes this fall.

Spring Comes to the Front Porch

2011-04-01T10:14:00.000-04:00

Spring has come right to my front porch. Mama and Papa bird have chosen a hanging plant, alive with raspberry-colored pansies, to be their home.

One must, however, consider the wisdom of these birds in choosing this particular location for their home. How long did Mama and Papa Bird look around for a home? Was Mama drawn in by the beauty of the flowers and the view and foolishly talk Papa into a spot mere inches from the front steps? Did Papa think the fact that it was semi-sheltered from the weather make it secure and safe and not listen when Mama commented that being one stride away from a human's front door could be a concern?

Did these birds checked this place out?

Have they noticed the front door slamming open and shut at all hours of the day? Have they seen the parades of children up and down the front steps? Did they notice the 2 large dogs peering intently out the window, ready to protect the house from all that moves on the outside? Have they watched scooters, skateboards, and BMX bikes whisk along the porch and down the steps . . . or the rail? Do they know that eager and excited children will be banging on the window, peering into the basket, thrilling with the excitement of a tenant on the porch?

I think not.

I watched Mama and Papa all day. Papa seemed incredulous at the commotion and noise and left to watch from a safe distance on the peak of the roof. Mama jolted and jumped and jostled at each new intrusion into her little world.

And finally, at the end of only one long and disturbing day, Mama gathered up her skirts, gave Papa the high sign, and they were out of there. Home abandoned. Relocation begun.

I watched her fly away. I knew what she was thinking.

I called after her, "I understand, Mama Bird! Sometimes you think you'll lose your mind! But it really isn't so bad once you get used to it!"

She never looked back.

Craft Guilt

2011-03-30T09:25:00.000-04:00

I'm going to have to admit something right here and now in Blogland that's not going to be popular and that I'm not proud of.

I do not like children's crafts.

There it is right out there.

I get why they're important. But in this one year, Youngest Daughter has brought home the Eiffel Tower made out of straws, a giant tissue paper flower the size of a large lampshade, Rapunzel's entire castle, complete with a blonde braid, and a Jack who can (by pulling a cord) climb the beanstalk and visit the giant. Those are just the few I can remember. And the deal is . . . what to do with them!!

So, I am very pleased to say that Youngest Daughter has brought home a craft that I adore and plan to keep. My guilt at secretly crushing the 125 plastic straws and the accompanying blue painter's tape is now assuaged.

This is a craft that works for me. And here is why:

* The craft has a sentimental element. I'm pretty sure that the foam base of this little bird is cut in the shape of Youngest Daughter's hand, so I have a forever memory of the sweet and tiny size of her hand. I do have a tender spot for any crafts memorializing tiny hands, feet, or fingerprints. ::sigh::

* The craft includes something natural. I don't mind a craft that has a little bit of nature in it (hence my disdain of the plastic straws and painter's tape!). Small stones, twigs, and shells are delightful. I'm pretty sure that under the bright red, orange and brown, those feathers really did use to belong to a chicken somewhere.

* The craft is useful. Who couldn't use a clever way to keep their recipes up and out of the olive oil . . . or flour . . . or melted white chocolate. My recipe cards and recipe books are a testimony to the fact that I've needed this craft around my kitchen for about 20 years.

So, yes, all in all a very enjoyable craft. And it certainly comforts my heart to be able to say so.

Bookends

2011-03-28T08:03:00.000-04:00

I came upon this little vignette on a trip through the living room . . . maybe with another load of laundry, or to let the whining dogs out the door, or to rescue a child from certain mental death-by-geometry.

And there it was, a moment you can't stage or plan but just enjoy . . .and then hope they don't see you running for the camera.

The two girls poring over the American Girl magazine. Older daughter having left that "land" years back but still interested in who the new American Girl for this year is. Younger Daughter just making the discoveries of Molly and Kaya and Kit and the doll you can create to look "just like you."

My bookend daughters. One constantly introducing the other to a new stage of life, and the other keeping fresh the discoveries of past joys.

Wishing you a blessed day and maybe a fresh, joyful discovery today too!!

Flowers in Bottles

2011-03-26T13:48:00.001-04:00

I just love these beautiful green bottles in which my very favorite salad dressing comes.

So, I was delighted when I had enough to put some large, bold Gerber daisies in.

A bit of simple twine around the neck and a few baubles and beads and it's complete.

Sweet and simple way to decorate a spring table.

My Yellows and Purples

2011-03-10T20:25:00.001-05:00

While I take a bit of a blog break, I'll leave my dear yellows and purples for you to enjoy. Mmmmmmm, I'm just eating these up . . . figuratively of course. Happy Spring! And I hope all those still buried under ice, sleet, and gray-ness will soon find color popping out all over!!

Just the Way Your Family Likes It

2011-03-07T21:12:00.000-05:00

Jumbo Tin of Virginia Peanuts - $ Not Cheap

Double Bag of SunMaid Raisins - $ Pricey

Deluxe Size Jar of Salted Almonds - $ Steep

XXL Bag of Milk Chocolate M&M's - $ Expensive

Supersize Can of Cashews - $ Costly

Getting To Make Trail Mix Just the Way Your Family Likes It - $ Priceless

PINK!

2011-03-06T21:42:00.000-05:00

If you have been up to your elbows in toilet bowl scrubbing, dust mopping, and laundry.

If you have worn yoga/sweat pants, baggy shirts, and a head band for more days than not over the past month.

If the colors in your life seem to be comfy couch taupe, soccer socks black, and macaroni and cheese yellow.

Then you really must attend a birthday tea party and reconnect yourself with all the things you love/loved about being a girl and also enjoy a healthy dose of pink (sparkles also included).

Birthday tea parties are all about:

Presents wrapped in bright colored flowers, curly ribbon, and paper that is . . . PINK!

A tea table that is frilly, elegant, adorned with roses and very . . . PINK!

Guests in floppy, self-decorated hats, swathed in . . . PINK!

A birthday girl with glowing eyes and rosy cheeks a lovely shade of . . . PINK!

Cupcakes with a mound of frosting, rolled in sprinkles,

and topped with a rose in the perfect shade of . . . PINK!

Girls that can only take so much tea and crumpets and must

escape to the backyard, all while wearing every shade of . . . PINK!

Treats to take home for girls that were just too sugar-laden

to take it all in, along with beautiful silver demitasse spoons, one each,

from the personal collection of the Birthday Girl's

grandmother . . . a treasure!

So much fun. I remembered exactly why I love being a girl . . . frills, ruffles, rosy cheeks, friends, laughter, sweets, flowers, tulle, ribbons, boas, hats . . . and lots and lots of . . . PINK!

Awakening!

2011-02-27T15:46:00.000-05:00

Just a typical afternoon errand run.

Eyes glaze over the sleeping landscape . . . bare trees, brown grass, piles of decaying leaves blown up against fences.

When suddenly my head nearly swivels off my shoulders. What was that I saw? Could I have been imagining?

No! It really is. The first blossoms of the season. Bursting into life. Bringing the tints of color to the landscape.

Redbud, I think, though I'm not sure.

A little later, swinging by the library, almost hidden by a tree, small yellow flowers peeking between the branchy tangle of the forsythia bush.

It's official. The spring sap is flowing. Color is coming. Nature is awakening!

Prairie Fire

2011-02-24T16:14:00.001-05:00

I am enchanted!!

This girl of the South (by transplant!) has done most all of her knitting up to this point in time in cotton or linen or bamboo or silk. Well, there was the one ghastly use of pale aqua bulky weight acrylic, but we won't talk about that. ::shudder:: We just don't usually need the warmer fibers in the "sunny South."

Until this winter, when we seemed to be cold...all...the...time and I determined that I would, indeed, bring warmth into the house.

This was my inspiration for my latest knitting creation:

Cold kids, frosty days, and the need for endless cups of hot cocoa.

And so . . . I bought wool!!

Have I mentioned I am enchanted? This is my first time ever knitting with wool. As it runs through my fingers, I just can't get over the fact that the beautiful fibers are right off the backs of sheep . . . real, live sheep . . . donating their beautiful soft wool . . . so I can knit up a throw to keep my children warm. I feel just as complete as if I had sheared, carded and spun the wool myself.

Here's the wool, Prairie Fire by Brown Sheep. It's super bulky, so it's loose, thick and soft.

Isn't Prairie Fire just perfect for this yarn? I can see the white of the ash, the black of the soot, the grey of the smoke and, of course, the roaring red of the fire, all loosely twisted together.

I'm knitting it up in moss stitch.

Did I say something about this yarn just flying off the needles? Yes, of course I did because that's how it should have gone as viewed through my typically rose-hued specs.

However . . . I found out that if one is knitting in moss stitch and you mess up a few stitches and you think, "Ha, no one will never know, living with imperfection, you know, and all that jazz," then soon you will find that instead of a wide swath of moss stitch, you will have moss stitch with several "ribs" up through it. Knitting is no friend of the concept of living with imperfections. Knitting doesn't seem to get along well with imperfection at all.

So, the beautiful throw was ripped back and started over again. This time with no overlooking of imperfections. Not this time. And it's actually given me more time to handle this fiery prairie of wool, lovingly donated by a sheep and his friends somewhere in the world.

I had better get to work quickly. As wonderful as handling this wool is on a damp, gray day in February, knitting a large wool throw in the color Prairie Fire while watching one's children playing in the pool on a baking hot day in July does not sound quite as charming.

Some Bunny Loves You!

2011-02-17T20:17:00.000-05:00

Sunday afternoon . . . after we're home from church . . . and lunch is finished . . . and the dishes are done. My time to crash. All I want is my bed, the couch, a patch of sunlight on the area rug. Anything. Just let me be found prone, eyes closed, letting the week drain out of me before the new one fills me up.

Unfortunately, this is exactly when the children remember that all the homework they thought was done and promised was done on Friday wasn't quite done at all.

So, as I lay in my semi-comatose state, body and brain begging for a little peace and quiet, the household (eschewing the day of rest concept!) becomes agitated and restless, cramming too much work into too little time.

"Mom, what exactly is the scientific name for a white blood cell?"

"Mom, my basketball uniform, compression shorts, 3 pairs of socks, and favorite underwear are washed, dried, folded and ready for my gym bag, right?"

"Mom, can you proof my 3-page essay on the history of highlighters?"

"Mom, I don't know how to compare a Japanese home of the early 1900s to an American home of today."

And then there's the most dreaded announcement of all . . . the project that someone forgot until Sunday afternoon.

This particular Sunday (the day before V-tine's Day), the project was announced in a quiet voice in my groggy ear,

"Mommy, I have to make 20 Valentine's for my class in the morning."

Aaaaargh!! Of course. Tomorrow is Valentine's Day! How could I have forgotten?!

Goodbye small patch of sunlight on the area rug. Thank goodness for Family Fun magazine.

In no time at all we had some paper cut, some paint in a saucer, and little fingers were making "bunnies" out of finger prints.

The ears were large and lop-sided. The heads a little less symmetrical than the self-conscious bunny would desire.

But they were cute nonetheless.

And when a sweet sentiment was added to the front along with the requisite lollipop and a name signed on the inside in quivery, loopy letters . . .

The outcome was really quite sweet, indeed.

::sigh:: I'll try again for that nap next Sunday.

Hopeful Signs

2011-02-11T17:06:00.002-05:00

In spite of the fact that the weather teased us with two days of sun and warmth, I can now feel cold air once again moving in, with its gray skies, low clouds and chilling of the bone.

However . . . I will not despair!!

I have seen the little daffodil shoots beginning to poke their green heads up through the ground.

The pansies are once again lifting their heads and taking courage.

And I bought a delightful pair of ruched summery flats at Target.

With all these hopeful signs, spring can't possibly be far away; can it??!! (And yes, I'm putting some lotion on those parched feet right away!)

Happy soon-to-be-spring weekending!

Refreshment

2011-02-09T13:07:00.001-05:00

Dear Bloggers ~ ~ I have just come off of 4 days immersed in paperwork---schedules, forms, lists, deposits, orders, documents--all the trappings of basketball tournaments and registration for the beginnings of soccer season for the teams I administrate.

And I would just like to say

"Thank you!"

Thank you for keeping me sane, for reminding me life is more than paperwork, for letting me remember that I have a soul, for keeping me in touch with my senses, for offering me beauty.

After a week of too many fill-in-the-blank lines, stark black print on 8 1/2 x 11 sheets of paper, and administrative e-mails, I pulled up some of my favorite blogs.

Ah . . . beauty, life, soul!

Koralee made me smile with her Valentine's charm:

Koralee @ Bluebird Notes

Lucy warmed my heart with color and hand-crafted deliciousness:

Lucy @ Attic24

Anna reminded me that food lovingly made from scratch is a gift:

Anna @ Pleasantview Schoolhouse

Lacey offered up a houseful of kids to make me laugh and cry:

Lacey @ So Every Day

Rie encouraged me to make beauty and order a part of my home:

Rie @ Home and Harmony

And the quirky and delightful Tif helped me to not take myself quite so seriously:

Tif @ Dottie Angel

Ah, head cleared, smile brightened, shoulders straightened, soul uplifted, by these several favorites and so many more!! Dear bloggers, thank you for every piece of yourself you pour into the blogs that express your uniqueness and creativity so beautifully!!

You are truly a refreshment to the heart and soul!

Priority Love

2011-02-05T22:07:00.000-05:00

This week I've been asking God to give me more of a "top priority" love for Him.

Okay, total truth is, I've been listening to Beth Moore teach on loving God, and, goodness, if the passion of that woman didn't convict my heart of my own lack of love for Him.

"I want it, God," I told Him. "I want that first place, passionate, priority love for you."

My husband wakens himself with a clock radio on a local Christian station a full 20 minutes before he needs to get up and a full 50 minutes before I want to get up. Ugh. It's amazing, though, how many times I'm jolted awake too early by a song that seems to speak to me right where I am.

And this weekend was no exception.

Through sleepy ears I heard God's loving message to me:

Take a look at the mountains
Stretching a mile high
Take a look at the ocean
Far as your eye can see
And think of Me

Take a look at the desert
Do you feel like a grain of sand?
I am with you wherever
Where you go is where I am

And I'm always thinking of you
Take a look around you
I'm spelling it out one by one

I love you more than the sun
And the stars that I taught how to shine
You are mine, and you shine for me too
I love you yesterday and today
And tomorrow, I'll say it again and again
I love you more

Just a face in the city
Just a tear on a crowded street
But you are one in a million
And you belong to Me

And I want you to know

That I'm not letting go

Even when you come undone

I love you more than the sun
And the stars that I taught how to shine
You are mine, and you shine for me too
I love you yesterday and today
And tomorrow, I'll say it again and again
I love you more
I love you more

And I see you
And I made you
And I love you more than you can imagine
More than you can fathom

Oh, wow, God. There's nothing like a reminder of your love to me to light my heart in response with love to you.

"We love Him because He first loved us."

(images from raspberrytart.tumblr.com)

Father-Supervision

2011-02-02T22:33:00.004-05:00

This is Middle Son.

This is Middle Son doing his homework.

This is Middle Son's homework.

Youngest Daughter would like to show you that

the washer and dryer go right here.

This is Middle Son's father overseeing Middle Son's homework.

Father does not feel compassion when Middle Son complains that the project is too hard.

Father does not step in and do Middle Son's work for him when he says he can't do it.

Father's heart does not twist inside him when Middle Son says he is going to die

if he can't go outside and play with his friends.

And when Middle Son says he can't stand school and he'll never need it and everything he's learning will never do him any good and all he wants to do the rest of his life is ride his bike and be with his friends,

Father has one response.

He laughs.

Oh, it is good to have a little Father-supervision when it comes to Middle Son and school work.

Very good, indeed.

Knitting Flat-ness

2011-01-31T13:24:00.000-05:00

At this stage in my life, everything I knit is flat.

Flat, flat, flat. No shaping. No sewing seams together. No knitting on 4 needles. Nope. Flat.

Flat can be taken in the car.

Flat can be worked on next to the computer as Youngest Son slogs through his composition.

Flat can be knitted on while finding out who is going to be "The Next Great Baker" with my kids.

I'm sure a 3-D project could also be taken any of these places. But it scares me.

I did crochet a 3-D project once. I am still recovering.

2-D seems considerably more safe at this stage of life. And right now, when it comes to knitting, safe is good.

Here is my latest flat project:

I did roll it up so I would feel a little less self-conscious about my knitting's flat-ness.

I got the pattern for this sweet little dish cloth here.

Love the way that the stitching gives a little basketweave look. Easy peasy. Just garter and stockinette stitch. Very, very safe.

To up the cute-ness factor, Deb adds a little sweet single crocheted edge. Love the extra special touch it gives.

I must say, now that it's done, I think I could have done a little better on my color choices. Red is always a favorite, but when I added that creamy white edge, I did get a little of the feeling I had knitted a dish cloth for Mrs. Claus. I guess I could put it out with the cookies and milk next Christmas Eve. Don't suppose Mrs. C. gets much brought back to her for all she loans her husband out to the entire world for a complete 24-hour period.

Oh, well, it's useful, it's pretty, it's satisfyingly made with my own hands. All in all, a very satisfactory dish cloth, indeed.

Winter's Beauty Is . . .

2011-01-26T23:29:00.000-05:00

Elusive.

She sends you on a search.

You have to seek to find her hidden beauty.

(firepower Nandina)

Unexpected.

She doesn't offer the idyllic loveliness that nature brings in spring . . .

full colorful flowers

trees bursting forth with little knots of new green leaves

lush meadows.

Instead, she's . . .

(snow laying in graceful curves in the branches)

A little quirky.

Unique.

Surprising.

A beauty of a different kind.

(Heavenly bamboo)

Quiet.

Don't expect her beauty to knock you over

like a dramatic sunset.

Her beauty whispers.

Understated.

Almost reclusive.

(tattered pussywillows)

These qualities draw me to winter.

To make the effort

to find and appreciate her uncommon beauty.

(dramatic white berries of unknown origin!)

And to be richly rewarded

when I do.

A Cookie to Feel Good About

2011-01-20T18:27:00.001-05:00

I feel good about this cookie!

I'm probably deluding myself, but it seems to me a little more healthy and acceptable than some I might bake up and serve to my trusting children.

In fact, I felt so good about this cookie that I actually served it right . . . on . . . the . . . dinner . . . table last week, along with a beautiful Chicken Caesar Salad.

The family was aghast. Cookies for dinner? Had mom lost her mind? Was company coming? Was this a test?

The things I love about this cookie are: **not a grain of flour**lots of oats**lots of peanut butter**chewy and delicious. I could do worse!!

To ease my mind even more, I used natural peanut butter and organic cane sugar. (Always makes me feel like such an attentive and nurturing mom when using organic cane. The feeling lasts at least several days, making the cost completely worthwhile.)

Haven't yet figured out how I can convince my tender conscience that the M&M's are somehow good for us too!!

Enjoy! These are soooooo yummy!

Feel Good Cookies

1/2 cup butter, softened

1 cup sugar

1 1/2 cups brown sugar (packed)

3 eggs

1 1/2 cups peanut butter

1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract

3/4 teaspoon light corn syrup

4 1/2 cups rolled oats (uncooked!!)

2 teaspoons baking soda

1/4 teaspoon salt

1 cup plain M&M's

6 ounces semi-sweet chocolate chips (I used milk chocolate!! mmmmm!!)

Cream butter and sugars. Add eggs, peanut butter, vanilla and corn syrup. Beat well. Add oats, soda, and salt. Stir well. Stir in remaining ingredients. Drop dough by 1/4 cup measures at on lightly greased cookie sheet. 350 degrees for 12/15 minutes.

Just This Once!

2011-01-18T20:07:00.001-05:00

Let me admit to something right up front.

I am a pushover mom.

No, no, no, not a pushover for anything immoral or illegal . . . but I am a pushover for:

a) Anything that sounds adventurous.

b) Anything I wish I could do but would be too scared to do.

c) Anything I wish I could do but would look ridiculous doing.

d) Anything that slightly breaks the rules of perfectly perfect decorum.

e) Anything I can say, "Okay, just this once" to and then hope no one finds out about.

So, this is why when Middle son got his new BMX bike . . .

. . . I allowed him to ride through the house . . .

. . . out the front door . . .

and down the front steps . . .

. . . just this once!

A Crisis of Warmth

2011-01-16T19:24:00.000-05:00

Here in the South, where winter usually drops in casually for a short few months, we have found her visit this year to be cold, C.O.L.D., cold.

This has affected the attitudes of all the children of the household most severely. They scamper down the stairs in the morning, bent double, arms tightly wrapped around themselves, shivering.

Never mind that they are in shorts, short-sleeved shirts and bare feet. Repeated admonishments of, "Put on something warm," "Get something on your feet," "Didn't I buy you a bathrobe last winter?" do not seem to be connecting with them.

And so, they shiver, and shake, and curl themselves into little balls on the couch and bewail the arrival of winter and all its trappings.

And what is a mother to do, but try and get them warm in some way.

It is, in fact, time to knit up a throw.

source

Timed perfectly is this throw from Purl Soho.

Knit up with huge yarn on huge needles, in simple moss stitch, it should fly together.

Oh, how I wanted to knit it of this beautiful "Pixie Dust."

It is made of wool, mohair and "pixie sparkles." Pixie sparkles!! Perfect for covering all the chilly toes and hugging all the shivering shoulders. This color is called "Lemon Meringue." Almost magical! Some of the colors also contain silk, camel, and yak. Oh, my . . . exotic.

"Pixie Dust" also costs $35 for a scant 35 yards. ::ahem::

Because I want to make this a nice and generous throw, I would need to decide between "Pixie Dust" and groceries for 2 weeks for our family of 7.

I will not be knitting with "Pixie Dust." ::sniff::

Instead, I will be knitting with the much more prosaic but hopefully just as soft and warm "Burly Spun" by Brown Sheep in . . . red.

yarns.com

It's looking like the crisis may soon be averted.

Once Upon A Time . . .

2011-01-13T00:57:00.003-05:00

. . . there was a slightly uncoordinated young girl who was always picked last for the P.E. teams at school. She couldn't quite get the bat to hit the ball in softball, her tennis racket made a lovely swoosh through the air full seconds before the ball actually got there, and she continually lost her sense of direction when her head was down in field hockey.

source

Over the years she became a cheerleader, which gave the fuzzy impression that she was really interested in athletics, although she had trouble remembering if the basketball team was seeking goals or baskets.

And, of course, after middle school, high school, and college physical education classes had mercifully passed out of her life, there really wasn't much reason to worry about hand/eye/ball coordination or how to hold a racket.

source

And then, as life would have it, a small miracle occurred.

To this athletically-challenged young woman were born two children who grew to be tall, who lived and breathed the intoxicating competition of sports, and who could coordinate not only hand, eye, and ball, but knees, ankles, spines, baskets, heads, nets, and feet.

Indeed, this woman would honestly believe these children could not possibly be her own, except for the female's propensity to sharp, sarcastic answers and the male's desire to stay up until 3:00 a.m. and sleep until noon. Genetics have, therefore, been confirmed.

source

So, without further ado I will show you visual proof that all things are possible, that genetics do not necessarily determine abilities, and that if you are eight years old and nervously digging your toe into the mud while teams are being chosen on the playground, life has not already passed you by.

Your athletic pride may just be salvaged by your children.

I do remain dumbfounded!

Snow Means . . .

2011-01-10T21:40:00.001-05:00

In our little corner of the sunny south . . .

where snow does not very often occur . . .

it changes our world . . .

it makes magical things happen that don't always happen.

Today, snow means:

An indulgent breakfast for me in a quiet house, since everyone is outside playing in the snow.

(Brie cheese omelet with avocado slices and salsa . . . mmmmmmmmm!)

Fire in the fireplace.

Cold little girl cuddled up by fire in the fireplace.

Chunks of snow all over the wood floors.

Teenage boys in the kitchen, making lunch "creations."

Lunch "Creations": Beef hot dogs with melted mozzarella and baja chipotle sauce,
with a side of mandarin oranges.

Sister time together on the trampoline.

Unique snow "shoes" crafted out of purple duct tape . . .

and happily modeled in the snow.

(Yes, I know they're missing coats and pants. I really do!)

A trudge through the snow with Youngest Daughter.

Today, snow meant unaccustomed quiet and peacefulness, opportunities to exercise patience, surprising bursts of creativity, and time spent together.

Because in our little corner of the sunny south . . .

where snow does not very often occur . . .

it changes our world . . .

and it makes magical things happen that don't always happen.

Rustic Apple Coffeecake - Gluten-Free or Not

2011-01-06T09:24:00.000-05:00

What's better on these frosty mornings than a warm, apple-y coffeecake?

This coffeecake was on the table for Christmas morning and again for New Year's Eve.

New Year's Eve?? Yep. The house where we spent New Year's Eve asked for all guests to bring favorite breakfast foods and at 9:00 p.m. we had a most fabulous "breakfast."

I do think breakfast is my favorite meal of the day!!

Of course, you will notice that the coffeecake is called "Penny's Apple Brown Sugar Coffee Cake." But since I don't know who Penny is, I have now made this my own and call it "Rustic Apple Coffeecake." I have no idea what may make a coffeecake rustic, or even if a rustic coffeecake is a thing to be desired, but it does sound quite delicious, no?

In our household we now have 3 that can't digest gluten well, so this coffeecake can be made gluten-free or not. The gluten-free is just as delicious as the one made with wheat.

If you're gluten-free, the recipe comes from this cookbook, that is, by the way, worth its weight in gold.

Silvana has you make up a mix for all your flour needs, and the mix is just fabulous for getting as nice a product as possible from your flour.

Here is the recipe. Hope you love it!!

Rustic Apple Coffeecake

1 cup plus 2 tsp. Silvana's All-Purpose Flour (or regular flour)

2 tsp. baking powder

1/4 tsp. salt

3/4 cup packed light brown sugar

1/4 cup mini chocolate chips

1/2 cup chopped walnuts (I omitted these)

1 tsp. ground cinnamon

2 large eggs, at room temperature

1/2 cup granulated sugar

1/2 cup vegetable oil

2 tsp. pure vanilla extract

2 large apples (peeled, cored, and cut into 1/2 inch pieces)

Preheat oven to 375. Grease 9-inch springform pan or round cake pan. In a large bowl, whisk together 1 cup flour, the baking powder and salt.

In a small bowl, toss together the remaining 2 teaspoons flour, 1/2 cup brown sugar, chocolate chips, walnuts and cinnamon.

In another small bowl, whisk together the eggs, granulated sugar and remaining 1/4 cup brown sugar until smooth. Whisk in the oil and vanilla. Stir into the flour ixture until just combined. Pour half the batter into the prepared pan and top with half the apples and half the chocolate chip mixture. Repeat with the remaining batter, apples and chocolate chip mixture.

Bake the cake until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean, about 45 minutes. Let cool in the pan set on a wire rack.

Yummmmmmmmmmmmmm!

Not A Good Way To Start The Year

2011-01-02T23:50:00.020-05:00

No one should have to start the New Year mad!

Even less should one have to start the year mad at their dog . . . you know man's best friend and all that stuff.

But that is exactly what happened in this household. The details are a little sketchy. After all, the dogs still aren't talking about it much. But this is what fell out, the best I can deduce.

White Dog and Brown Dog were left home alone on New Year's Eve. This made Brown Dog decidedly grumpy and started off the evening on a bad note. To make matters worse, fireworks began to go off in the neighborhood and Brown Dog found himself nervous, disturbed, and feeling very, very alone.

About this time, Brown Dog spied something he had not yet noticed in all the holiday festivities. Down under the Christmas tree was a large, soft, white flannel sheet, used as a tree skirt. It looked very, very comforting . . . for a dog who is nervous, disturbed and feeling very, very alone.

Brown Dog began eyeing the sheet. White Dog smelled trouble and warned Brown Dog to mind his own business, be content with his cast-off quilt, stick his paw pads in his ears, and be a good dog, which of course only encouraged Brown Dog all the more to have . . . that . . . soft . . . sheet.The fact that Brown Dog was on his leash, which was attached to a pillar two feet from the tree mattered to him not in the least. In fact, it served only to heighten the challenge of having . . . that . . . soft . . . sheet.

And, so he pulled, he tugged, he threw his body at the tree, he twisted, he jumped. And by gum he got that sheet.

White Dog, meanwhile hid his head under his own well-worn, cast-off comforter, put his paw pads in his ears, hummed loudly and said, "I don't see what you're doing. I can't see a thing. I know nothing that's going on."

That is how it came to be that as the 7 of us walked in to the house, bleary-eyed, in the wee hours of New Year's morning, we found the tree, rotated 90 degrees, bottom 2 rows of expensive artificial tree foliage bent to the ground, a veritable shower of artificial tree "needles" on the floor, ornaments scattered about . . .

. . . and a very sentimental, hand-crafted, 25 year-old ornament smashed on the floor.

Have I mentioned that no one should have to start out the New Year mad?

After a cup of tea, my emotions were back in check, I had decided that Brown Dog could live in safety for another year, and I was beginning to believe that 2011 might actually turn out to be quite a satisfactory year.

It was at this point that Youngest Son approached me tentatively, eyes wide, gesturing in the general direction of the dining room table, mouth moving but no syllables coming out.

Yes. Vintage glass ornament. Part of a set from the 1930s. Handled with care by my German grandmother for years and then passed down to me. Smashed.

Children don't understand these things. It's round. It must therefore be a ball.

If things don't turn around quickly here, I'll be the one in bed, covers over my head, waiting for 2012.

Have I mentioned that no one should have to start out the year mad?

Time for more tea.

Happy Faces

2010-12-30T13:46:00.001-05:00

One of the very sweet pleasures of living in a somewhat temperate climate is that here in the South pansies are planted in the fall. No, not the spring. Not wait until the ground isn't frozen anymore. Not wait until Easter is around the corner. None of that. Pansies are planted in the fall.
So, this fall I planted the smaller version of the pansy, the johnny jump-up. Just love these cheerful, happy little faces. So, bright and full of the anticipation of getting their feet out of the claustrophobic flat and down into the rich, deep earth.

The sun shone, the rains came. They were happy.
And then, just when they were beginning to get comfortable, in blew snow and deeply cold weather. Because that's part of planting the pansies in the fall. They have to tough it out. Things get really bad. They're just not sure they can make it.
They have to put their heads down and struggle through the tough times.

They will. They always do.
And then, before you know it, the sun will begin to shine. And between the delicate, muddy feet of the courageous little johnny jump-ups some daffodils will begin to push their way up, up, up. And the johnny jump-ups will lift their heads to the warm sun and the ruffly daffodils will spread their skirts.
And we'll know spring is here because we'll see rows of yellow daffodils standing up to their ankles in the happy faces of the johnny jump-ups.
I can't wait to show you.

Until then, they wait, these little survivors. Waiting for spring. Making it through the winter.
It will come. It will.
It always does.

Quiet

2010-12-27T23:55:00.000-05:00

After the swirl of people, the crush of deadlines, and the hyperactive fun that was Christmas (and the days before and after) I was so glad that today slowed down, and

could

just

be.

Be still.

Be quiet.

Be unwound.

Or as much as is possible in this household.

I found peace in diving back into the daily living.

Making hot chocolate for cold, snowy boys.

Attacking the mounds of towels that breed in our bathrooms and laundry room.

Playing a few stimulating rounds of "Feed the Kitty" with Youngest Daughter.

And even starting a new dishcloth to replace the tattered shreds that are the remainders of several old cloths.

Yes, altogether a very satisfying day.

No expectations, goals, or lists.

Just . . . quiet.

If You Were My Neighbor

2010-12-25T20:02:00.001-05:00

If you were my neighbor, I'd trot up the mountain to an enchanting little bakery, Flat Rock Village Bakery to be exact, where the baker magically combines organic flours, fresh ingredients, and local produce to create scrumptious artisanal breads . . . sourdoughs, baguettes, scones, bagels.

Then I'd look at the day's offerings and think and ponder and ponder and think exactly what you'd like the best.

And I'd finally decide on Three-Cheese-Garlic-Basil because I can smell the basil wafting out of the brick oven. And I know that it's havarti, cheddar, and provolone today . . . melty and delicious inside.

Back home I'd come and wrap up the bread, all steamy and crusty and encircle it with raffia. And then I'd attach a little tag that says "JOY" on it. Because that's what I'm wishing for you on this Christmas Day.

And even the snow falling outside wouldn't keep me from running next door to bring you your gift. And to wish you a sweet Christmas.

And to wish you joy.

His joy.

For anyone who seeks it.

The best gift.

I know.

I've found it.

Merry, merry Christmas!!

Christmas Color / Christmas Magic

2010-12-22T09:56:00.000-05:00

There must be some . . .

(Middle Son's Airsoft pellets)

Christmas magic in the house.

(Youngest Daughter's crayons)

Because everywhere I look . . .

(Boys' Shirts)

I'm finding Christmas color . . .

(Tins of tea)

. . . in the most unusual places!

(Last night's salad)

Enjoy your day, sweet friends!

Newest Crush

2010-12-20T14:45:00.001-05:00

shoponline2011

If there's anybody that's going to come to the party a day late and a dollar short, it's going to be me.

Which is why, of course, I am just now discovering the simple beauty of "baker's twine." Absolutely charming, in the understated way that brown kraft paper or newspaper is a simple, charming wrapping paper.

randomrecycling.blogspot.com

Of course, once I finally began to notice this twine and find out its official "name," I see that it is everywhere. Shoot, I probably got a gift decorated with it last year and never batted an eye.

roostblog.com

See what I mean . . . classic, simple, slightly rustic. I love it! Just love it!

bayareabrideguide.com

Today, the sweetness of this unpretentious baker's twine is making me smile.

folksy.com

Now, here's hoping that I can find some. Because I really must have some for my neighbor gifts!!

polkadotbride.com

A Gypsy Girl Prepares for Company

2010-12-18T15:52:00.002-05:00

Today, I am cleaning!

Family comes in two days. And so, I am cleaning.
Dear-Sister-in-Law and her husband wouldn't want me to be cleaning. Wouldn't want me to be getting things tidied up for them.
And the truth is, I'm not doing it for her . . . well, not really. I'm doing it for me. So that I don't have to think about my messes while family is here.
You see, my husband was raised by a Swedish homemaker. By the time he was old enough to figure out what "normal" was, he had three teenage Swedish homemaker sisters.

If you're doing the math, that's 4 Swedish homemaker females, keeping house for one impressionable young boy.
So, we can hardly blame the boy for thinking that all women kept house like his Swedish family.
Unfortunately he married a dreamer/thinker that would rather be dreaming and thinking than cleaning.

A girl that has some gypsy in her and doesn't notice piles of clean towels that need to be put in the linen closet.

A girl from a family of globe-trotting vagabonds, that just can't make pushing her chair up to the table, or putting the phone back in its cradle, or squeegeeing the shower walls a priority.

::sigh:: Poor dear. It's been 20 years of adjusting. I think he's coming along splendidly.
Letting go of all expectations works every time.
So, for him and for me and for my loved in-law family . . .
Today I am cleaning!

images from raspberry tart

Christmas Lantern

2010-12-16T10:06:00.021-05:00

"Make a craft," said the first grade teacher.

"Make it fun. Make it creative."

"Make it something from another country."

Aha.

The handwriting was on the wall. Youngest Daughter's Explore-A-Country craft was going to become my project.

We picked the Philippines.

We have no connection to the Philippines.

We have not been there.

We know no one there.

However, Family Fun had a star lantern on their web site that looked just right. And we both felt that cute was a lot more important than relevance . . . wouldn't you agree? Especially after we chose colors that would compliment Youngest Daughter's bedroom.

Materials were assembled: tissue paper, basswood strips, glue, rubber bands.

A star was formed.

So far, the 7 year-old fingers had not been able to cut basswood, form a star, or wrap rubber bands.

We soldiered on.

(Please note dog's snout resting comforably on crafting surface.)

Two stars made, front and back attached. Now onto the tracing, cutting, and gluing of 20 different triangle shapes from tissue paper.

Hmmmm. I remember a half-hearted attempt to glue on a couple of triangles by Youngest Daughter. But by the time the glue had stuck to her fingers, the tissue paper had stuck to the glue, and the perfectly traced and cut triangle had made a slow, soggy rip, Youngest Daughter was done . . . finished . . . out-of-there.

I finished the gluing, fondly remembering a certain night of my childhood which found my engineer-father, at 2:00 in the morning beautifully executing a miniature weather station (complete with rotating satellite dish) while my brother (whose science project was due the next morning) slept blissfully and unconcernedly in his bed.

Despite Youngest Daughter's abandonment, I rather loved the light streaming through the delicate tissue paper and began to enjoy myself.

Glorious tissue tassels were attached, and Youngest Daughter was able to present to her class "her" project. A Philippine Christmas lantern, filling the streets in the Philippines at Christmas time, to remind all of the star that hung and shone over Jesus' manger.

The class ooh-ed and aaah-ed. Teacher's Assistant's complimented her on the fine job she did. Classmates wondered how her small, 7 year-old hands could have created such beauty.

Youngest Daughter smiled placidly and accepted all compliments calmly. No one noticed the Tacky Glue still under my fingernails . . . or the splinter alongside my cuticle. No, this was Youngest Daughter's moment.

And, yes, the lantern does look quite lovely and color-coordinated hanging in her room.