-
a good idea. that wasn’t mine.
Do you know what this is? Yeah, it looks kind of gross. But it’s more than a bowl filled with sticky red goo. It’s kind of a miracle and a time saver and a taste of spring with a stroke of genius. Yep. It’s that big of a deal. Well. It would be if your last name was Keigley and you were as obsessed with strawberry jam as this family is. It’s an idea I wish I could claim as my own – however, like most of the ideas that come through my days – the genesis for it came via another source. I’m pretty sure it was my friend…
-
your vote counts. or other such political rhetoric.
Kevin likes coffee. We both like local businesses. Our town has a great little coffee shop in the emerging downtown area. And that great little coffee house held a contest recently. People were invited to submit ideas and the winner’s artwork would become a t-shirt. Well, Kevin likes coffee and our children like art. Piper Finn, London and Bergen all decided to enter the contest. They sent off their masterpieces. And time passed. Then, the top five entries were chosen by The Forest staff. And one of those possible winning entries was created by our little man -Bergen Hawkeye. All five entries are featured on The Forest Facebook page. The…
-
reminded.
I abhor watching the news. Fear-based reporting. Sensationalizing the vulgar, the mediocre, the irreverent and the irrelevant. It’s a wasteland. Mostly I’d prefer to bury my head in the sand. Focus on the lives in the view finder of myself and ignore the rise and the fall of all that is outside of my realm or reality. However. I know this isn’t entirely wise. I know this isn’t holy. I know this isn’t living the command of loving your neighbor and loving the world. And so I catch a video of a current news story. I scan the headlines at CNN.com. I read the Sunday paper while the kids peruse…
-
night song to piper finnian willow
The distance from your bedroom door to your bed is about two yards. Max. I step lightly, working to miss the squeaky boards. Climbing up the ladder to your bunk, your breathing lets me know you’re already asleep. I love you. Brushing the hair from your eyes and gently tucking it behind your ear, I’ve loved you and your tiny head since first we met. I swaddled you – burrito style – in your rectangle of a crib. And I loved you then. Soft head. Inch-size appendages. Squinty eyes. You were my baby. You’ve been my girl. You’ll be my friend. And I’ll love you always. Stuffed animals piled by…
-
Time Has Never Been On Anyone’s Side
Is there an opposite to writer’s block? I’ve got the ideas. I’m just so lacking in the time. And, some days, the focus. Scattered. Full. Divided. Distracted. These are the running themes of my days as of late. Phrases from songs, like anthems, play through my brain. “All I want is nothing to do.” Standing in the kitchen this afternoon, Riley looked at the clock. “What? It’s only four p.m.? Man, this day is just dragging by.” I stared at her. Ah, perspective. I haven’t felt like a day was dragging by in the last ten years. At least. I don’t even know what a dragging by day would feel…
-
along with the age, the birthday meals have changed.
Nineteen. The number takes my breath away. (Every year – it always does.) She’s nineteen today. Last night we all enjoyed Riley’s birthday dinner of choice. (Long standing tradition in our family. Probably in loads of other families. Birthday person picks the meal. No matter what it is. We eat it. No matter what it is.) Steak! (Yeah – who does this girl think she is? A grown up? Steak.) Mashed potatoes. (I made ten pounds. In retrospect – that was too many mashed potatoes. But can you ever have too many mashed potatoes?) Peas. (Easiest side dish ever. Always been her favorite veggie.) Rolls. (Not homemade. But, in her…
-
my boy . . . .
He laughs at Shel Silverstein. Laughs loudly and deeply. Tugs on my arm and says, “Listen to this one.” Reads the funniest poems out loud and waits for my response, blue eyes staring expectantly. Playing a geography game he announces, “Mom – we should visit Iowa. They’re for me – they’re the Hawkeyes.” And then this ….. “Mom – want to draw with me?” My favorite request. Not because my sketch pad looks awesome, but because I love this seven-year-old and it seems with each passing day that he lingers by my side less and less. “Yes, I want to sit on the front porch and draw with you.”
-
My Pinterest Test Kitchen. (Don’t) Cook This: Mini German Pancakes
In case you are delusional or I have misrepresented myself or you have never actually dined on fare I’ve prepared or all three – I’m letting you know – I am not an expert chef. I’m just this person who is nearing forty and has been in a kitchen since I was maybe eleven, prepping both boring and exciting dishes for people that I love. That’s all. And I decided to share with you guys the many potentially tasty treats I attempt from my Cook This Pinterest board. I’ve shared successes with granola bars and cinnamon rolls and blueberry frozen yogurt. It seems only right to share with you a…
-
publicly thanking my husband.
I love my job. I’m so grateful. So grateful I didn’t renew my teaching contract ten years ago. Said “no” to the pleas of several of my favorite students to just stay “one more year” to see them through until graduation. Those same students who are marrying and giving birth to babies and who will begin to understand why I chose “no”. I was covered in leaking breast milk and projectile spit up while my former co-workers were mapping out lesson plans and sharing inside jokes and inspiring future writers and thinkers. I would still make the same choice. We’ve known seasons of low income and sharing one car…
-
a writing exercise. sort of. or something like that.
I am sitting down tonight to type with absolutely no plan. (Is that free writing or free verse or something?) I have Pandora streaming “The Avett Brothers Station” and I don’t know why I’ve never done this before. Beautiful sounds from Old Crowe Medicine Show, The Wood Brothers and some lovely band called Dixie Hummingbirds. (The commercials are a real buzz killer though.) My stomach sort of hurts from the after ten p.m. snack of rice and black beans with cheese and tomatoes. (It was all that looked of interest in our fridge tonight.) Of course that stomach ache isn’t stopping my hand from reaching again and again into the…
Keep Reading . . .
this day. this life. some sort of a mood.
I just want to do it all.
holiday links.
-
Tricks of the Trade. 5.
Six kids. Twelve hands. Even though we have vastly downsized our children’s toys, there’s still a lot of little hands with a lot of little playthings. Besides, you can take away the plastic dolls and the metal trucks but kids are still going to create entertainment out of nothing at all. Cardboard boxes into airplanes for their big-eyed animals, hair clips into prized possessions, you name it. My general rule is that toys belong upstairs. All of our kids sleep upstairs and I can handle the chaos of their toy playing selves if it is maintained upstairs primarily. Of course, this is not a hard and fast rule.…
-
moments
It was a day made up of moments yesterday. (Like all good days.) One. The expectation of the breakfast schedule was actually met. Kevin with us. Bible read. Copywork completed. Times tables reviewed. Verses said. Maple muffins baked the night before (by Scout, my favorite fourth grader). Served beside strawberries. Two. School completed and done efficiently with pleasant attitudes. Early afternoon free to play Legos because of their hard work. Three. Hawkeye greeting two separate copywork assignments with no more than a blink of an eye and both written in less than eight minutes total. Four. Because of the hard work done earlier, being able to grab a glorious half…
-
I’ll Call It A Craft.
The bare bobby pins had been resting in a wooden bowl on a stand in our bedroom for months. Purchased at Hobby Lobby in the fall or before for certain. The earrings were clip ons that belonged to my mom that belonged to her mom that maybe belonged to her mom, but no one remembers for sure. And I’ve loved those clip on earrings for decades. As a kid, I held them in my hand when my mom allowed me to peruse her old white fake leather jewelry box. I’ve worn them in my hair for a while now but they usually fall out quickly. After losing one of the…
