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let’s call this one quits already
Today was a lousy day. I mean. I don’t even think I have what it takes to type it out and turn it into a story. I know I’m due a post about the Plexus Pink Drink Experiment. I have a cute article about picking apples with kids to post. I’m sure one of my children said something adorable or funny or embarrassing that I could write about. But instead I think I might just go to bed unreasonably early and let this day die the slow, sad death it deserves. You guys – we just never know what a day holds when our feet reluctantly hit the bedroom floor…
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piper finnian says …..
Lying in bed one night recently, Piper Finn sits up quickly with a bit of a gasp. “Oh my word,” she says to me. “Underneath my silly bands is party of germs!”
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trash day.
Tuesday is Trash Day. I dislike Trash Day. (Just as I dislike putting air in my tires and gas in the tank of my car.) I set an alarm on my phone to remind me that the trash needs to be down by the mailbox before 7 a.m. Wednesday morning. Which means I should haul it down the driveway Tuesday night. And some days the kids and I remember to do just that. (And some days angels and leprachauns and unicorns apparently drag it down without my knowledge. I rejoice loudly on those days.) But then there are these other days. Days like this: “You guys! It’s after 8 p.m.! It’s…
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poetry and tea.
Last week I borrowed a homeschooling idea from a friend. Because that’s what we all do – right? Earlier in the week, I invited the kids to meet me on Thursday afternoon at 3 p.m. at our kitchen table. They were invited to bring a stuffed friend, a happy heart and a poem to share. I wrote it on our family menu board. The Poet Tea. And then it was three o’clock and the table was set and the desserts were stacked on the high platter. The poetry books covered the table. Heavy on the Shel Silverstein. We all tried chamomile lavender tea with a dash of maple syrup. (The…
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school words from a wilde fox.
We are working on our math and Otto looks up at me, surprise in his bright blue eyes, “Mom. I actually like school.” I grin at this last scholar of mine and pat his growing little man back. We move on to a new-to-us program called Draw-Write-Now that I am thoroughly enjoying. Otto has learned to take special pride in his writing this year and I have been pleased to see how neat and tidy his first grade work has become. “Son, I love your penmanship,” I tell him as his pencil writes the sentence about the Cherokee tribe. “My penmanship?” he asks, perplexed. “You must mean my pencilmanship.”
Keep Reading . . .
these days ….
Guatemala: Day One
notes from the burrow. not in any particular order.
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leaky tire. leaky life.
The Suburban’s back right tire has a slow leak. (As if having 258,000 miles wasn’t problem enough. Also the leather is torn right where my left leg hits every single day. There’s this weird continual dampness in the back right and I have to remind myself never to store my suitcase there on trips. And it smells like feet. Stinky stink Keen kid feet. But I should mention here – I still love that old ride.) I fill the tire with air. (You might already know how much I dislike the gas pumps. I feel pretty much the same way about the air stations.) (Why is it so hard to…
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wisdom from harper lee
I made myself reread Harper Lee’s famous novel To Kill A Mockingbird this summer before I would allow myself to begin her summer release of Go Set a Watchman. (And no, sadly, I have not finished the new novel yet. I’m just so slow at reading books these days. My nights are busy and my days are busy and my brain cells are busy and well, you get my point.) There is just so much good in that first novel though. So much quote worthy. So much courage and so much strength of character. So much solid classic that is that original story of Scout and Atticus and Jem and Boo.…
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Gleaning With The Society of St. Andrew
We have spent past seasons of our lives sustained by the support of generous friends and family. We are currently in a season of community care and absolute dependence on God for our daily bread. Certain types of suffering bring particular scripture closer and more vividly to mind. “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable…
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The Pink Drink, Plexus and Peddling Your Wares
If Facebook has taught us anything it’s that there are about one hundred and thirty two bazillion ways that people try to start their own businesses and promote their own products. And that there are approximately eighty two gazillion products that we can try to get fit, stay slim, reverse aging, feel younger, look younger, turn back the clock, be our best self, survive on almonds only. You get the idea. I don’t know if you’ll believe this or not, but I’m a skeptic. More of cynic than a quick-to-believe what I hear and what I read. But I am currently also a person trying to make a living through the peddling…
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that time at the park when the wheels came undone
We’ve never really lived in a house with a concrete driveway that leant itself to safe bike riding for children. Therefore, the kids have always been late comers to the biking world. Piper Finnian still needs training wheels. And that’s alright with me. Recently, Bergen outgrew his bike and we realized it was a good fit for Piper. I bought some training wheels. Universal, the bag side. Fits any bike, the instructions read. With the training wheels attached and the bikes painstakingly crammed in the back of the Suburban, we drove to a large parking lot to practice before trying to hit the trail together. Otto is grinning and riding…
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the winner …..
You guys. I think giveaways are really fun. I’m so glad the kind folks at FoodWorks said yes! to sharing their clever product of the IcePop Makers. I let Piper draw the number for the winner this time. And the winner of their very own set of IcePop Makers is ……… (Man. In writing, this is pretty anti-climatic!) Gretchen Phelps! Yay G! Now you can have your very own popsicle molds. E-mail me your address and I’ll forward it to the staff at FoodWorks and the molds will be on their way to you. If you didn’t win and you still want these handy dandy molds, just click on the link…
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the prayers of a wilde fox
He prays like this — earnest and sincere ….. God, please help the Forrests as they fly to Bangladesh and maybe they are still on the plane. Maybe not. And. Please God. Help no more of our toads escape under the house.
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when they asked . . .
It was a simple request. “Come dance with us.” But we were so comfortable. The grown ups all lounging on the patio, fire crackling far more for ambience and effigy burning than for warmth or need, relaxing from the overdose of tacos and chocolate cake. And what none of us wanted to do was to get up, to dance. Sitting was what we wanted. However. One of us caved and the rest of us were forced to follow along lest we appear as the selfish parents we were becoming. It was the Virginia Reel and every bare-footed, sweaty-headed child was clapping and swinging and dosey-do-ing, from the the three-year-old to…
