Thursday, March 5, 2015





Tuesday, March 3, 2015


Our Friday nights typically include a baguette, olive oil, wine, company, and something for dinner. In fact, since we've moved here, we seem to have a new budget line item for coffee and wine. And now olive oil. I read about oil fraud and it bummed me out--because we on-purpose consume lots of olive oil for health. So it was disconcerting that we may have been undermining the effort unwittingly by consuming these oily cocktails of impurity.

Yesterday, I went to the store and got a few new brands to try out. I poured and peppered them on little plates and sliced up the baguette. One was absolutely delightful. (The other was good, but just not as wonderful.) I finished off a small dish of the oil with bread this morning for breakfast. YUM.


With Erin being sick, she was on a cartoon marathon of all her used-to-be favorites. At some point in the past year, they seemed too young for her, but there's something about being really sick that can return us to the comfort of younger days. Paw Patrol played frequently. Today, doing school work, I tried encouraging Erin to write her answers a little faster (she was feeling mopey about the missed work load). So I'd read her a question and then chant, "Go! Go! Go! Go!" She laughed and laughed.


I really haven't had time for the 52-week self-portrait project. Heating and keeping up after this place, homeschool like a full-time job, and the other things (Friday dinners, play dates, lessons and activities, serving at church, a knitting hour)--I'm so happy to squeeze in a family to photograph, but just don't have time to work it out for myself. I found a really great site by a woman who does a 365 project. Like, if I don't have time for a 52, how will I do a 365? She gives some really fun prompts that make me feel like I could possibly work them in.

The prompt for today is sound.


We just finished Le Morte D'Arthur in Great Books. There are so many times I think if I had a do-over, being a lit major would be at the top of the list to do over (as in picking a more useful major). I'd also have followed Jesus earlier/harder, married Shane sooner, and had more babies. But now I find I rather like that I was a lit major. It has given me a perspective of slowing down, looking at details, seeing how they relate to the whole, going beyond superficial. I'm often surprised by treasures I find in the Bible, kids' lit, medieval literature (I love it!), in stories and life in general.

Sir Percivale encounters his aunt in "The Tale of the Sangreal."

"Madam, do you know me?" he asks.

"I do, I am your aunt. Do not be deceived by my present poverty, for I can tell you that I am far happier now than I was as the possessor of great riches and known as the Queen of the Waste Lands." Le Morte D'Arthur, by Sir Thomas Malory, rendition by Keith Baines.

I would have reached through the pages to kiss that woman.


I found myself on the hound rescue site after a friend just adopted her third dog (she likes little dogs. Little dogs would be taken up by hawks around here, so we need a bigger dog.). I was looking at two different dogs: one named Norah, one named Stella. And I had a little laugh at the thought of having dogs named Nella and Stella. Both these dogs looked like they were from the same litter as our pooch. I'd get them in an instant.

"I don't want another dog," Shane said. But he didn't sound like there was no room for discussion. He sounded the same way when I lobbied for Nella.

Can you imagine?

Monday, March 2, 2015

And still counting (6685-6709)

I thought it was the stomach bug going around, a quickie that lasted a day or two--but on days three and four, a growing concern for Erin. She no longer wanted cuddles or talk or anyone close to her. She wouldn't budge from the couch for fear of throwing up. And as she is the resident cuddle-bug, my arms ached to hold her close. Never realized how often she'd come to me for hugs and kisses until she was no longer doing that. This morning, thankful for her smiling face and returned chatter--a wide-eyed, run-on list of everything she wanted to do ... starting with suiting up to go play outside at 7:30 in the morning because she missed the snow all these days. (I told her to wait till a bit later.)


for Gatorade, freezie pops, crackers, peppermints, gingerale (and her willingness to save some of all of it for Lanie)

celebration cakes for a kiddo who likes to crack the eggs
vanilla buttercream icing
Medieval Great Books
wood for fires

all the moments she'd let me hold her close
her sweet heart ("I feel so terrible! I don't want you to get this, Mom!"
and recovery hugs
full days emptied of tasks so I could sit next to my girl and comfort her

snow days
home days
Marshall's mom's kind words
an upcoming food shoot 
an apology note

laundry detergent
smiles, returned

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Last man standing

First Lanie ... then Shane ... and this morning: Erin. She came into my room to cuddle, then a bathroom break, then panicked cries of nausea and heaving.

Cartoon marathon on the couch, 101.5 fever, noo-noos in hand (her baby blanket), and my busy day of teaching the last pages of Arthur and running around town at a halt to hang at home with my mini me.

I was just bragging the other night that Erin and I must have the supergenes. Another mama looked at me cautiously like I had just jinxed myself.

I will not succumb.

I found an adorable rhinestone super(wo)man shirt decal on Amazon the other day. Ordering it as a reminder--UNSTOPPABLE.

On, on.