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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…
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A Dog’s Life
We think we have it bad with Magnus. I imagine Kipling thinks she has it bad with us!
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Wilde Fox
This little guy spits up . . . . a lot! (His laundry pile is higher than all other young Keigleys combined.) But, Kevinit – he’s cute!
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The Annual Tossing of the Bear
It might be fake – but it’s our Christmas tree this year. I really prefer a real tree. The process of choosing one, chopping it down (that’s how we rolled, back on the farm), dragging it across the field, discovering it was too tall for the house, cramming it into the never-quite-the-right-size base, receiving enough scratches while decorating to require first aid, cleaning up needles on the floor for a month and dripping water all over the presents in a daily attempt to water the thirsty dying tree. But this year, we went with the fake guy. Mainly because we have travel plans for this December and a real tree…
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What Do We Do?
(It’s another one of those this-picture-has-nothing-to-do-with-this-post-other-than-the-fact-that-this-is-my-blog-and-this-is-my-cute-kid. Apologies to all.) I just heard this line in a song . . . “If you feel it, it must be real.” That turns my stomach. This idea is absolutely pervasive. It has invaded everything. Our music. Our movies. Our commercials. Our attitudes. Our expectations. Our brains. Our hearts. Our actions. And I hate it. Because it is a lie. I’m not saying feelings always lie. I’m not saying feelings are wrong. Or sinful. Necessarily. I am saying – you cannot trust only your feelings. You cannot live from your feelings alone. You cannot base your actions on your feelings. It is a dangerous…
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It’s Time
And the stockings have been hung by the chimney with some degree of care. All eight of them. Let the season begin!
