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simple.
Tell me this isn’t beautiful. It’s the Real Deal. And it’s one of my favorite types of beauty – the practical kind. Oh, how I love when Function meets Beauty. A fresh strawberry smoothie. As in – these strawberries were picked only hours before they were blended harmoniously together in my lame Black & Decker blender. And as if fresh, in season, local strawberries were not beauty enough on their own . . . there’s the glass. Isn’t it cute? It, too, is another pleasing little example of Beauty. The beauty of finding a great deal on a tiny treasure. This glass was purchased at the almost-giving-it-away price of $0.68.…
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Yes, You Can!
This weekend I took Bergen, Mosely and London to a community theatre’s production of Oliver. (It’s from my favorite Charles Dickens’ novel and I only just read it for the first time last year. How did I receive an English degree without reading that novel, Cumberland College? How?) I love community theatre. I miss it really. (And watching the show reminded me of how much I liked that stage scene. And I think I did a pretty decent job when that was my field of expertise. Despite what that one off-off-off-off Broadway director said when I brought him his requested red candles. “No. No,” he scolded me. “I want…
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Hello.
Tetherball. Meet Bergen. Bergen. Meet tetherball. I think you guys will enjoy a long and enduring friendship.
Keep Reading . . .
current plans. current mood.
Mand Labs Lit: A Timberdoodle Review
and there’s a video
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We interrupt this season . . .
You already know a little bit about how Bergen plays soccer. (Or doesn’t.) But Kevin posted about it in an even funnier way. It made me laugh. And I bet you will laugh too. Read it here.
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Surprise!
My dad used to be a dairy farmer. (That’s how I mostly remember my father. I used to describe him as Grizzly Adams. I think it’s a pretty fair comparison.) After selling the farm Dad sold tractors and such for a while. (Yellow and green tractors. Naturally.) And then he moved to Wyoming. (Uh – for some reason I cannot even remember what he did as gainful employment out there, although I do recall that he once starred in a role in a local theatre’s production of Annie. But I am pretty sure he was never financially compensated for that.) At any rate. Now he lives in Florida. And he…
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The Dentist
Last week we experienced what I will call A Terrible Dental Experience. And all because of my former arch nemesis – fear. But this time it wasn’t my fear. It was London’s fear. (Is the same principle about sins of the father passed to the son true for sins of the mother passed to the daughter?) Because this kid looks like me. (I wish I could locate photographic evidence. You would be convinced. I’ll start looking. I promise.) And, in this area at least, this kid acts like me. Although I feel sorry that she looks like me – teenage years were not kind to my sense of self in…
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King of Proclamations
Bergen Hawkeye is the King of Proclamations. (I am confident that he himself would be proclaiming this announcement right now if he knew how to type and could access this blog.) Particularly of the very obvious variety. And no proclamation is ever good enough unless it is delivered at a decibel slightly louder than necessary. Right? Two recent proclamations of note . . . (Outside standing on the lawn with Chris) “Chris, don’t forget. Ticks live in the grass.” and (Sitting in the car chatting with Torrye through the open window) “Torrye – your teeth are attached to your gums!”
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This Is A True Story
Sometimes I am convinced that my children are actually better people than me. Kinder than I am. More compassionate. Speedier in love and more perceptive. For example . . . It had been a long day. Long. And I was home trying to get the younger kids corralled after soccer practice. Riley was hanging out with friends. Kevin was working. I was trying to feed Wilder his last bottle before bed. Finn was dumping rubber stamps on the floor and spilling blue ink. Bergen was sitting on the red chest trying to remove his cleats. Mosely had already removed her cleats and wanted to put them away in the red…
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Soccer – Let the Games Begin!
The season has started. In all its glory. (Okay, there really is not much glory – but the kids sure look cute in their uniforms, Riley is a great assistant coach and Piper is a pretty effective cheerleader.) We’re just at the beginning of the season but it’s funny already. There’s the I-expected-this-but-not-from-you – Hawkeye. He pretty much just wants to drink the water from his cool new officially-sanctioned-by-his-soccer-team water bottle. “Berg, don’t you want to play?” I ask. He answers, “Mommy, I think you should write my whole name, B-E-R-G-E-N, on my water bottle instead of just the B you already wrote.” While everyone is running after the ball…
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Celebrate Good Times – Come On!
Bergen, that little boy-man, turned five this weekend. Five. One whole hand. And for his birthday he only asked for one thing – monster trucks that could sit on a cake but could later be removed to play with. (Really. That’s what he asked for.) So we went with a theme. There were three monster trucks on his cake. (And he removed them all and played with them.) There was a monster truck race course, complete with bridges, ramps, mud puddles, flags, jumps and a grand finale jump into a swimming pool. (Assembled by our almost-in-residence-birthday-planners Chris and Ben (and Rachael). You might recognize them from other Keigley birthday celebrations…
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At First Glance
What you are looking at here is no ordinary ball. It’s a rubber band ball. But that’s not all. It is also the culmination of a dream. The hope of many months and much pondering and a quite intense pursuit. For Mosely, anyway. That kid thinks she created the concept of a ball made entirely of rubber bands. And she has been attempting to collect enough random loose rubber bands for a very long time now. But she was having a rather difficult time accumulating enough to make a difference. But no longer. Placed in front of her one day by Daddy, Mosely was given the holy grail in rubber…
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A Quiet Forgiveness
Forgiveness is really such a personal quest. A lonely journey. Isn’t it? I mean, there’s the public forgiveness – announcing it, requesting it, bestowing, granting it. All of that. But the true work of forgiveness, the nitty gritty, happens almost entirely inside your head (or heart). And the impossibly challenging part is how invisible it is. How thankless. How not noticed not appreciated not acknowledged by anyone. Forgiveness is occurring when you refrain from making that nasty comeback out loud to someone who may really deserve it. It happens when you stop yourself from saying cruel words to your other friends about the one who harmed you. Forgiveness is taking…
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Sufficient
My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. (2 Cor. 12:9-10) My friend recently e-mailed this verse to me. And when I read her e-mail, I was encouraged. But today, I feel more like a character in the Dr. Seuss book “Oh, The Places You’ll Go” because what do you do when it seems His grace…
