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sweet
Oh my goodness. We have been out of town for a while, it seems. A little out of touch. And our internet at home is down. And although perhaps I should be ashamed to admit this – I have really missed writing this blog. But I am back now. And you may just be sorry that I am. Because I hope to update with a flurry of posts. Yes. A flurry. Like snow. (Which I wish we would see a bit of.) Because here I am. At Panera Bread. Free wifi. A cinnamon scone to my right. A loaf of french bread leaning against the wall waiting to be served…
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Disney
(I promise to add photos when I return home. I promise. Bear with me, Leanne. Bear with me.) I don’t know where to start. Really. And I almost don’t even want to. Because I am sure I will forget something. There is just so much. So much. We are actually still on the road. (Not literally, mind you.) So maybe I will just work backwards. Or whatever. I’m pretty sure the only person who will be even slightly concerned with the correct order of events or the skipping of any memorable moments will be me anyway. Disney sounds like a good place to begin. After waiting in line for about…
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Here We Go
Alert: This post is being typed from a computer with a dying battery. In a hotel room with no access to photographs. The Band of Keigley are on the road. (And you would know all the minutia of our family’s Christmas journey south if you followed Riley’s Facebook updates. But please do not. We do not wish to support her addiction. I’m actually not joking.) The start was a bit shaky . . . an hour and a half later than intended, snow and ice the first forty-five minutes, an accidental opening of the completely, tightly packed Suburban’s back door two minutes before the official Buckling In Of Passengers was…
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A Story of Hope
At lunch yesterday Mosely made a very unusual comment that seemed to be right out of left field. “I wish I could meet my first parents one day,” she said. My head actually whipped toward her – it was such an unexpected comment. We have made the choice to speak normally and often about Mosely’s adoption and her introduction to our family when she was but a wee little three-month-old sausage baby. (Hey – “sausage baby” is the term Mosely uses. And listen, if you had the privilege of meeting her at that age, you would agree. Her appendages closely resembled sausage links. It’s just true.) So it was no…
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I Don’t Want One
I saw a crazy device recently in Best Buy. I think it was called Kindle, but I didn’t linger long enough to be certain. I guess everyone has heard of this already before me. Or owns one. It’s this little device that you hold in your hand and it contains the printed words of any large number of your favorite real books. It is not a book. It’s a little screen (uh – like a computer) that shows you the pages of the books you want to read. But I can tell you this, you will not be seeing this girl purchase a Kindle. Ever. One of its selling points…
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The Mirage
I had to laugh a little when a friend of mine recently told me that she thought I was so organized and that I looked as if I had it all together. Maybe it looks that way from a distance. (A very far distance.) But if it ever does look like that, it would only be a mirage. Let me share an example. (And there are so many from which to choose.) Today. We have been saving our change and stray dollars for our Disney World Christmas adventure. And it only seemed appropriate to stash said spare change in a plastic bank that is a giant Mickey Mouse head saved…
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Yeah. Just Like That.
Guess what family is unanimous in their recent discovery of their intense dislike for goat cheese? This family! (Was that really a hard guess for anyone?) Yes. It’s true. Our apologies to all goat-cheese-lovers reading right now. We discovered this over a recent dinner. I made a beautiful salad. And yes, I can describe this salad as beautiful. Because it was. A beautiful serving dish. Crisp, bright green spinach leaves piled high. Creamy white feta cheese sprinkled across the bed of green. Goat cheese layered across and mixed with the feta. Perfectly grilled chicken placed carefully across the salad layers. And exquisite, colorful ruby pomegranate seeds shimmering across the landscape…
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Now What?
So, if love is a verb, how do you wrap that and stick it in your stocking? As the majority of our children are just beginning to enter the age of desiring to give Christmas gifts as well as get, we have been presented with a new dilemma. Last year we took all of the younger set to the infamous Dollar Tree and let each one pick out gifts for their siblings. It was fun. The kids loved picking out toys that each one would enjoy. But we ended up with 16 toys that were probably broken and disposed of before the new year, if not that very Christmas afternoon.…
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Love Is A Verb
I heard it first said at Look Up Lodge actually. (Maybe twelve years ago.) Love is an action. Love is a verb. There is always a lot of talk about love. And how we humans can best express it, one to another. Particularly at this time of year. But even the coolest, most amazing gift, (even a Mac) cannot express our love as beautifully and as profoundly as our actions can. Even our most simple actions. Yesterday I was suddenly and inexplicably very sick. Really sick. Chills, aches. Miserable. Even my eyes hurt. It was lousy. But despite the fact that I have six children, five of whom do not…
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London’s First Lost Tooth
Milestones. One after the other. I guess that’s to be expected in a house with eight people. Living lives that never stay still. Our most recent milestone — a loose tooth. London’s. It’s been wiggling down there at the bottom of her mouth for days. Maybe even weeks. (Just another way she is my daughter, a little me. I would let my loose teeth literally dangle by whatever thin thread of tooth stuff was left. I never pulled them. And I never told my mother when they were loose, in case she wanted to pull them. I hated pain. I still do.) At London’s suggestion (and under the probable influence…
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Pray Like Piper
I pray. Really. I do. I mean, you already know that I pray at least once a day – right? But recently I realized that my two year old daughter had something new to teach me about prayer. How do I approach prayer? With joy? With enthusiasm? As if it is, in fact, a privilege or the exact highlight of my day? In a group setting, when someone offers a blanket opportunity for prayer, do I get excited? Or do I avert my eyes a bit? Are my prayers mostly pretty rhetoric? Or only pleas for some quick relief? Because that’s not how Piper Finnian prays. No ma’am. Every night…
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First Annual
It finally happened. The much-anticipated First Annual Pickle Juice Drinking Event. Yes. Pickle juice drinking. For some crazy reason the Keigley children discovered that they enjoy the taste of consuming copious amounts of pickle brine. Apparently, it’s genetic. Because so does their Aunt Betty Ann. Once this information was leaked to our children the idea began forming immediately. Drink pickle juice. With other people who like to drink pickle juice. Profound. London even wrote a letter to her aunt, requesting that one day they could share some memories over a glass or two of the almost neon-colored stuff. The stars aligned. Suddenly, there we were in London, Ohio. Hometown of…
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Long, Strange Trip
Destination: London, Ohio. The birthplace of one Kevin J. Keigley Detours: Three. One – To wrap up former business details. Two – To surprise a wonderful friend. Three – To avoid a rock slide on the interstate. Number of Donatos Pizzas Ordered During Our Three Days in Ohio: 4 Hours Spent in a Packed Suburban With Six Children: About 30 Number of Times Mosely shouted “My bum itches”: Approximately 42 Favorite New Menu Item at a Restaurant: Panera Bread’s Macaroni & Cheese New Skill Acquired by Bergen, Taught to Him by His Older Cousins: An intense football tackle Number of Rented Books on Tape: 2 Number of Books on Tape…
