Little Matryoshkas

Whiners, Occupiers, and Wal-mart Shoppers

2011-10-28T13:35:00.014-04:00

I've got to stop complaining. I have kept thinking about what I wrote a couple of posts back about not liking my job. I sound like a whiner, and I'm too old for that. I don't always like my job, but who doesn't? The more I hear about the state of the country, the more I am thankful that my husband and I still do have jobs.

At any rate, since my dad is the only one presently reading this blog (and I'm totally okay with that), I think I owe him an apology for having to read my grumbling and complaining. So, I'm sorry, Dad. I will try to be more positive and uplifting.

Oh, who am I kidding? I probably won't be positive because I seem to only blog when something is bothering me, but I can try not to grumble about my trivial personal issues.

So, I guess I'll just grumble about current events though I can't say I stay too current on what's happening in the world. My own world occupies my immediate attention most of the time, but when I do have time to catch up on what's going on, I find myself discouraged and want to stick my head even further in the sand.

Take this Occupy Wall Street thing. It has me perplexed. I mean, I certainly don't claim to be any kind of economic expert. Far from it, but I'm not sure why they are occupying. Frankly, it sounds like a lot of grown ups acting like spoiled kids who aren't getting their fair share of the candy. But we all know life isn't fair. Now, some of those people may actually have legitimate concerns. However, from what I gather, most of them are upset that big corporations, banks, what-have-you are controlling this country. So, the Occupiers want big government instead? Is that what they are saying? How is that going to be any better. Are there greedy big corporations out there? Well, sure, but isn't it the big businesses that create jobs for the middle and even lower classes? How many people would be out of jobs if McDonald's closed up shop? I really wish I could get an objective opinion from both sides of the issue, but I don't think that's gonna happen.

I recently bought Halloween costumes for my kids to go trick-or-treating this year. (This really isn't a totally random topic change. I promise.) Originally, I was going to be all Martha Stewart and make my kids their costumes. I found patterns for $.99 at Jo Ann's, but when I went to buy the material and notions, I realized I was going to be spending a whole heck of a lot more than I wanteed to; plus, I was going to have to make it, too. Not only was it going to be expensive but also time consuming. This was just for one kid. My other kid hadn't yet decided what she wanted to be yet. To make a long story short, I happened to be in Wal-Mart with the kid who had set her heart on being Cleopatra. Sure, I told her, we'll look at the costumes, but we are not buying one. I ate those words in a hurry when we found the perfect Cleopatra costume with all the adornments, and it was on sale! Later I took my other kid back who found a ladybug costume that she liked. (She's 13. It's her last year of trick-or-treating, and she wants to be a ladybug. I didn't see that coming at all.) Plus, it was on sale, too. Woohoo! All said and done, I got two costumes that I do not have to make for a lot less than it would have cost me to buy all of the stuff to make one. Granted I could have spent no money and let my kids figure something out for themselves as a friend of mine is doing, but that's not me. Anyway, I came away from the whole experience in praise of cheap Chinese manufacturing--I, who used to be so critical of Wal-Mart. (Okay, I still am on some points but I'll save that for another post.) Oh, I didn't mention that I had already bought material from Jo Ann's to make the cleopatra costume when I came across the one at Wal-Mart? Well, since Jo Ann's is one of those big box chain craft stores, I was able to return it (unused, of course) for a full refund. Not too many mom and pop stores can offer that kind of service, unfortunately.

My point being that I think many of these people opposed to big business, opposed to capitalism, etc. would not be really happy with the results should their ideology be put into practice. We enjoy a lot of customer service benefits at these big box stores. Now, not being of any kind of business or economic intelligence, I may be completely off base as to what these occupiers of Wall Street really mean. Based on what I have read and heard and my own experience, I can't say as I'm very sympathetic to them right now. I would invite someone to try to convince me otherwise. I am always open to enlightenment.

I'll Never Be a Guest on Oprah

2011-09-20T14:15:00.004-04:00

My creative juices are flowing. My family is doing a craft show this Saturday. We have been busily making earrings, bracelets, necklaces, and magnets among other things. We've never had our own booth at a craft show before. My daughters are super excited. They love to make things and to make money. I figure even if we just break even, this will be a good learning experience for them. I am, however, hoping we make a bit of a profit.

I think it would be fun to be able to craft for a living, but just about anything one can find at a craft show can be found at a big box store much cheaper. Nevertheless there are still some people out there who appreciate handmade items and are realistic about what they will have to pay for those items. Many people, unfortunately, are not so realistic. My husband has made several lovely little wooden boxes out of some reclaimed heart pine flooring. But to price them so they will sell will not compensate him for his time. He said he'd be glad to make minimum wage off of them.

I suppose it's rare for hobbyist to get to a point that they can turn their crafting into a full-time job that pays the bills. It can be done, I suppose. I read enough artsy craftsy magazines to know that there are a few success stories out there. I'd love to be one of those success stories one day. My goal at one time was to be featured in Mary Englebreit's Home Companion magazine, but it is no longer being published. Such a tragedy. I loved that magazine. I still have old issues I peruse just for inspirations sake. My other goal after I achieved success was to be a guest on Oprah, but she had to go and retire before I could get there.

Well, if nothing else, perhaps I've sparked a creative interest in my two daughters who will one day achieve what I did not. Even if our creative endeavors don't lead to fame and fortune, they are not a waste of time. I think everyone needs some type of creative outlet.

At any rate, I'm curious to see how we'll do Saturday. Even if sales are slow, my kids are learning a lot, and at the very least we'll be way ahead on Christmas gifts.

Julie, Julia et Moi

2011-09-13T09:26:00.003-04:00

I watched the movie Julie and Julia the other day. I really enjoyed it. I found it inspiring actually. I wish I could wake up in the middle of the night with an epiphany about what to do that would change my life as the author of the book on which the movie was based did. She said she decided to cook her way through Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking and it was going to change her life. It did.

I don't like my current job. I know, I know. I should just be grateful that I have one. It's only part time, and I am thankful for the little extra income it brings in, but still I don't like it. I happen to be firmly of the opinion that one shouldn't persist in doing something one does not like to do. I like the philosophy that says do what you love and the money will follow. Unfortunately, doing what you love doesn't always pay the bills. Still, it's sad that so many people spend so much time doing stuff they don't really enjoy just to earn a living.

I asked myself what I would do if money were no object. Create stuff. I'd be an artist. Not a paint and easel kind of artist, but a crafty kind of artist. I'd design handbags or crochet stuffed animals or design my own fabric. How cool would that be? Maybe, like Julie Powell, the author of the book Julie and Julia, I'll wake up one night and decide to sew my way through my pattern collection and it will change my life. Oh, and I'd have to blog about it 'cause that's what Julie did. Of course then I 'd be a total copycat and who likes a copycat?

I'll find my niche. Inspiration is just around the corner. I know it.

It's So Dusty in Here

2011-02-15T14:02:00.002-05:00

Hello, Little Blog, it has been a long time hasn't it? I haven't completely forgotten about you despite the evidence to the contrary. Many are the times I think, "I should blog about that," but of course, I don't. Time is an issue. Honestly, when do people have time to work, keep house, Tweet, text, Facebook, parent, blog, etc., etc.? How do they do all of those things and not let something slide? But there's the rub. Something does slide and it's usually not the computery, techno stuff. It's usually the boring, but necessary stuff like housework. At any rate that has been my personal experience. So, though I would love to sit all day and write, write, write, doing so would not get my house clean, my kids disciplined, my dinner cooked and so forth.

But, Little Blog, I will try to visit you occasionally, just to exercise my writing muscles. I may only come once in a blue moon, but that's just because I have a life to live. Don't take it too personally.

Embracing the Oxymoron Within

2010-01-17T12:14:00.005-05:00

I am a Christian.
I am a Christian who reads Mother Earth News and books entitled Serve God, Save the Planet.
I am a Christian who listens to NPR.
I am a Christian who watches documentaries such as Food, Inc.
I am a Christian who is a big fan of Michael Pollan's work.
I am a Christian who is on the brink of becoming a vegetarian. (But that brink is pretty big right now so it may be a while if at all.)
I am a Christian who enjoys sixties folk music.
My husband calls me a hippie.
I'm not, but given the right decade and circumstances, I might have been.
In my circle, all of this makes me somewhat of a walking contradiction so I keep my opinions to myself except when I put them hear for anyone to read. (That one being my dad. Hi, Dad!)
And, I am okay with this for the most part. What I am not so much okay with is those who would paint people like me with the same brush as they would liberal environmental extremists.
I have not bought into the myth of global warming.
I am still conservative politically.
I firmly believe God is sovereign, but I do not believe that means we should be indifferent to how we treat God's creation.

More to come as my thoughts gel. Currently they are a swirling dervish of activity.

Question of the Day

2009-11-05T16:02:00.002-05:00

So, the other day, Little Munchkin (aka Bethany) asked, "Mommy, do you love Satan?"
Of course I answered no. Then she said, "Mommy, doesn't the Bible tells us to love our enemies?"
"Yes, that's right," I replied. I knew where this was heading.
"Well, doesn't that mean we have to love Satan because he's our enemy?"
Hmm, that was a tough one for me. I explained that the "love your enemies" command concerned our earthly enemies and that Satan was our spiritual enemy. My answer sounded shallow, but it was all that came to mind. I told her to ask her daddy and that he could probably give her a better answer.

Bethany, she's a thinker that one.

Bravery is the Root of all Confidence

2009-10-08T06:00:00.002-04:00

For some rather unidentifiable reason, I have always wanted to be a teacher. I was one of those kids who set up all her dolls and stuffed animals and played school even after being in school all day long. When I made it to college, I declared my major as English Education and never looked back. Then, the last semester of my senior year, the day finally came for me to begin my student teaching. I had dreaded it since my freshman year. Somehow I made it through those eight weeks of student teaching, and came out on the other side only slightly deterred in my goal of standing in front of my own classroom and imparting my love of grammar and literature. Brushing off those pesky twinges of doubt, I sallied forth from college eager to secure my own domain as a teacher. After interviewing with several schools, I accepted a job teaching 7-12th grade English at a private school in Savannah, Georgia and found out exactly what it meant to be in charge of my own classroom. Alone and facing a classroom full of students with nary a supervising teacher in sight was a much needed but unsolicited lesson in confidence for an introverted, unassertive girl fresh out of college.

Having survived student teaching, I felt adequately prepared to handle my own classroom. Hindsight being 20/20, I realize now how foolish I was then. I had packed up my life and moved to Savannah to teach English in a smallish private school. I had faithfully worked to prepare my lesson plans and classroom during the week of teacher in-service, and now I was ready for the big night--the parent/teacher open house held on the Friday evening before school began. When the evening of the open house came, I was nervous wreck, but managed somehow to make it through the evening. I met some of my students and their parents which clothed the unknown with a bit of humanity and allayed some of my nervousness. I went home that evening exhausted but relieved. Yet, Monday morning still loomed ahead like a mountain on the horizon which I had to traverse.

Monday came all too quickly and found me on the threshold of my dream. I was about to walk into my first official classroom as THE teacher. I was in charge, and felt the heavy weight of that responsibility as I walked down the hall to my homeroom classroom. The students were still in the gym waiting to be dismissed, but they would be filing into the room any minute. The clock on the wall ticked loudly. I nervously fidgeted with the attendance sheet and lunch tickets while I sat at my desk and waited those last few agonizing miutes. Doubts swirled around in my head like a swarm of angry bees. Could I do this? Could I handle twenty-five teenagers alone? My courage faltered, but before it could fail utterly, the door was yanked open and in trooped the uniform clad ninth and tenth graders none of whom appeared too eager to begin another school year. I could empathize. After some of the initial hullaballoo died down, I launched into my best, "I'm-the-teacher-and-I'm-in-charge" voice and began the morning housekeeping duties. I managed to make it through the rest of that day, but the rest of that year proved to be a serious test of my resolve to be a teacher.

Having students blatantly defy me, talk back to me, make fun of me, and write vulgar words on my chalkboard did not encourage me to want to continue teaching. I cried more often than not that first year, but I learned something about myself. Being forced to summon my courage day in and day out to face groups of belligerent students who apparently wanted to make my life miserable, taught me that confidence is not always inborn. I had never considered myself particularly brave before that year. At the end of the year, along with the feeling of intense rellief that I had survived with my sanity intact, came the realization that I had been brave. I didn't quit even though I desperately wanted to most of the time. I fumbled, stumbled, and bumbled my way through that first year, but I didn't quit. That knowledge alone, gave me a surge of confidence. I finished the year a little bit wiser, a little bit worse for wear, but a lot more confident than I thought possible, all because I blundered bravely on despite my "enemy" being "encamped about on every side"--for an entire school year.

This was the example narrative essay I mentioned in my post yesterday.

Dusting off my Enthusiasm

2009-10-07T16:14:00.002-04:00

Once again, I am back in the teaching saddle. At the end of every school year that I have taught, I walk out of the classroom vowing never to come back. It doesn't help to be married to the principal of a small private school that every few years seems to be in need of an English teacher. I am teaching one upper level class although my husband attempted to convince me to teach two classes by promising me trips to England and Europe. Despite my desperate longing to travel abroad, I prefer my sanity in tact. Teaching more than one class would not be conducive to my staying sane. Not at this season of my life.

Now, lest someone think that I abhor teaching, let me just say that I find it immensely stimulating to be teaching the class that I have this year. It is the equivalent of an AP English class, and the students are for the most part up to the challenge. I am having to "hold their hands" so to speak through some of the novels we've done so far, but they are getting the hang of analyzing literature. I am looking forward to all of the literature we will be studying. I should. I hand picked each selection, but there's the rub. I'm having to create my own curriculum which is challenging and stimulating but immensely exhausting at times especially when I'm writing my own study guides. All in a day's work, I suppose.

I don't mean to gripe. Well, I do sort of, but to end on a positive note, I will say that teaching again has made me realize just how far I've come as a teacher. Now I'm bragging it seems. It's true though. I remember all too clearly my first year of teaching. In fact, I wrote my own narrative essay about it as an example for my English class. They never actually saw my essay though I did intend to share it with them. Crafting a decent essay received priority class time and my little composition got pushed to the back of my notebook.

At any rate, when I reread what I wrote, I find it curious that even though I've sworn off teaching numerous times, I always wind up doing it again and again and again. Each time I'm stretched a bit more. Indeed, I have come a long way as a teacher. I've learned a lot over the past seventeen years. That's as it should be. I've known very few naturally gifted teachers. Most teachers do have to have their idealism tempered at some point. Unfortunately, enthusiasm many times gets caught in the crossfire as was my case. I happened to be tried in the fire my first year, but so much the better. How much more time I had to grow as an educator before any disillusionment could permanently set in. Enthusiasm can regain its initial momentum, but disillusionment is much harder to treat. I have been on the brink of disillusionment since my first year, and at times I wanted to fling myself head first into the abyss. Each time someone always yanks me back and sets me in the direction of a classroom.

Seventeen years have passed since I walked into my first classroom. Maybe it's time to dust off my enthusiasm and embrace the teacher within.

Intelligence Does not Equal Wisdom

2009-03-20T12:05:00.005-04:00

You know, sometimes smart people are really stupid. Of course, I say this as one who doesn't think she's particularly smart. I know someone, someone my husband and I used to work with and with whom we used to spend a significant amount of time, someone who went through four years of college with a perfect 4.0 and who was in the Who's Who of American Colleges and Universities and who displayed his Who's Who book prominently so anyone who walked into his classroom could see it. In other words this person was and is, academically speaking, quite intelligent. And, on top of that, everyone around him knew that he knew he was quite intelligent. He was obviously proud of his intellect. People who are, are usually obvious about it. Perhaps it represents a deep-seated need for approval. I understand that. We all want approval. Yet for this person of whom I speak, I think the problem wasn't just a need for approval. He was ultimately very insecure which is why I think he constantly needed to let people know just how much he knew. Yet, in the long run, in the ways that really matter, he was far from intelligent. His college transcripts may have shown a studious, intelligent person, yet his actions have shown a proud, puffed up sycophant who's high IQ did nothing for his character.

Do I sound bitter? Perhaps, but this person's actions have caused a great deal of stress especially for my husband and others in our church, but also for our family. I'm working on my bitterness. Really, I am. In the meantime I've reached some conclusions. First of all (and I never thought I would say this), my mother was right. People with a lot of book sense do not have a lot of common sense. Nor do they have a lot of wisdom. Intelligence does not equal wisdom. Yet, intelligence does not have to equal foolishness either. I do not believe the two are mutually exclusive though I'm sure by now it sounds as if I do. I am not an anti-intellectual. In fact, I love to learn new things. I want to broaden my knowledge and intellect sot that I might deepen my wisdom and improve my character. Do you know how hard it is to find a humble, down to earth intellectual who is not always flinging his intelligence up in your face? Harder than one might think. Yet, I have found a few. My dad is one. He is, in fact, one of the smartest people I know, yet he is rather self-deprecating at times and in no way in a hurry to let you know how smart he is. He will admit that he's made some poor decisions in his life (who hasn't), but he's learned from them and that is where the wisdom part comes in. The fellow I mentioned at the beginning of this post has yet to learn anything from the fiasco he created in our church a few years ago. In fact, those who support him have only fed his ego and confirmed in his mind that he's right. How desperately I want to avoid being the kind of person who is so secure in her own "rightness" that she is not willing to listen to truth or reason. Lord, keep me far from foolish people who willing blind themselves and others to the truth.

Another person I know who exhibits true wisdom is a Bible teacher in our home church. I've known him for almost ten years and the more I listen to him teach the more I realize the depth of his wisdom, a lot of which has likely been forged through time. He is a man of few words which I've come to realize is in itself many times a sign of wisdom. Of course there are others, women too, though I've only talked about men here. Ultimately my point is that I don't want to be the kind of person who is ever learning but never able to come to the knowledge of the truth. I want to be ever learning, but humble enough to realize my limits; to not just acquire knowledge but wisdom, too. Many times, perhaps most times, wisdom is not found in academic prowess or high IQ's. To whom much is give much is required. To those who are blessed to have knowledge come easily comes great responsibility. And, that sneaky little pet sin that haunts us all--pride--requires constant thwarting and squelching if only we can recognize it in ourselves.

Random Thoughts Pulled Randomly From my Head and Slapped Down Here

2009-02-28T17:18:00.008-05:00

Big government is BAD!! The U.S. government is getting bigger. I'm so disgusted with it that I'd move to another country except that I don't know of one in any better shape.

Parents are the best teachers for their kids. Education begins at home, always.

It's been a rainy day.

I'm rather weary of checking in on blogs that recap and analyze TV shows. Oh, I know, that's the blogger perogative, but as someone who doesn't watch any of these shows, I find it rather dull reading. American Idol, Lost, 24, Dancing with the Stars, The Bachelor--bleh! I'm sick of hearing about them.

I'm wondering if it is normal to have four or five books going at the same time, or is that a sign of insanity? My husband says it's a sign of insanity.

Lately, I find myself daydreaming about living in England, or somewhere Englandesque. But then there's that pesky big government issue again.

Nobody should be forced by law to send their kids to school. Stupid big government!!

Mass, compulsive, institutional schooling is detrimental to children's well-being. Yeah, I know that's rather a strong statement, but if you'd been reading what I've been reading lately, you'd feel the same way, or you should.

I thought my brain was more full than this, but apparently not. It's empty for now.

If I Don't Write This Stuff Down, I'll Surely Forget

2009-02-20T13:03:00.002-05:00

Me: Bethany, stop aggravating your sister.
Bethany: I'm just doin' my job, my jobby job, job.

Hahaha!

2009-02-11T18:33:00.003-05:00

Little Munchkin just asked me if she could eat a Santa shaped gummy candy, apparently left over from Christmas. I told her she could. She thanked me enthusiastically and scampered off. Seconds later, I heard her gleefully proclaim to her sister, "Santa's gonna have a party in my tummy!"

Indeed.

Writer's Block--I Has It; Lots of Time--I Has it Not

2009-02-07T16:34:00.016-05:00

Dad, you asked me if I'd given up blogging because I hadn't posted in a while. Well, not exactly, but here are my thoughts lately on that subject:

Not being able to sit down daily and dash off witty, thought-provoking blog posts without a lot of effort is a great source of frustration for me. To be honest, I read very few mommy blogs who post daily that accomplish that feat so I console myself with the fact that it must be a rare mommy blogger who can actually accomplish daily posting with style. I say mommy blogger specifically because I'm not concerned with comparing myself to those who professionally blog or make their living blogging or writing daily in some other venue.

I've come to the conclusion that I couldn't be a professional writer, at least not at this point in my life, because writing, for me, takes an enormous amount of effort and brain power. That last statement makes me sound like a dunce which I don't think I am, but neither am I a genius. The problem is that everybody and their brother/sister/mother seems to think they can write and have something worthwhile to relate. I fear falling into that category--coming across as if what I'm writing is so interesting that it needs to be published on a blog, but in reality it is only mediocre at best. I fear mediocrity; therefore, I don't often post because when I actually sit down to post something, the spark of genius that my thought seemed to be in my head, somehow dies when I try to capture it in words. That's one reason very few people know about this blog of mine. Plus, blogging takes time. To post even mediocrity on a daily basis takes time. I'm only taking time now because I'm too sick to do anything but sit here and think about all the posts I haven't had the time to write, but probably wouldn't even if I did have time because apparently I'm paralyzed by my fear of mediocrity. Sounds like I have some issues with perfectionist tendencies and/or pride.

I suppose if I were more disciplined I could get up earlier and have the quiet, morning hours before my family awoke to ponder my deep thoughts and write blog posts. Of course, I don't think all posts should be deep, but I'm just not very good at being funny although I'm pretty good at being shallow. In a former blog of mine I tried to post daily. I will say that doing so seemed to keep my writing sharper, at least in my own estimation of it, but it kept me up very late and other aspects of my life suffered. When something like blogging, or any hobby for that matter, interfers with keeping up with my housework or interacting with my family then it takes too much time. Yet, I feel taking time to express oneself creatively whether via blogging, scrapbooking, photography, journaling, etc., etc., is an important part of feeding one's creativity--you know, hyacinths for the soul and all that. And, therein lies the sticking point. Any creative endeavor worth doing is worth doing well. We are created in the image of a creative God. Yet, to do something well takes time, sometimes a lot of time. Balance is the key, of course. Balance is something I'm not good at achieving. But I also think balancing one's priorities also means knowing what is most important right now. Right now, writing daily on my blog isn't a high priority. Ideas for blog posts seem to be crowded out by ideas for homeschooling or ideas for our next read-aloud. I'm not going to look back in twenty years and wish I'd blogged more. I will regret any time taken away from my priorities right now--my family. Balance for me means putting aside some of my creative projects so that I can focus on my ultimate creative projects--my kids. Yet, that doesn't have to mean neglecting the feeding of one's soul. I still read. In fact, I probably read more now than I have in a long time. I crochet which I enjoy a lot except when I'm inundated by request to make tons of little crocheted octopi as I have been lately.

Maybe one of these days I'll achieve enough balance to be able to blog daily, read daily, read aloud daily to my kids, perfect my cooking skills, write poetry, read poetry, homeschool, exercise, keep up with the housework, and everything else I would like to accomplish in my lifetime.

Note to Self

2009-01-07T22:23:00.004-05:00

"Hyacinths to Feed thy Soul"

If of thy mortal goods thou art bereft,
And from thy slender store two loaves alone to thee are left,
Sell one, and with the dole
Buy hyacinths to feed thy soul.

(Attributed to Gulistan of Moslih Eddin Saadi, some Mohammedan sheik who lived a really long time ago.)

A more practical sort might scoff at this idea, but I totally get it. We need beauty in our lives just as much as we need food and water. (Well, maybe not just as much, but pretty close.) Praise God for the beauty He has surrounded us with in nature! People's lives today stay on fast forward. No one has time to just be, to literally stop and smell the roses. We rush here, there, and everywhere and occasionally think about the lovely day, or the rainy day, or the cold or hot day. Our enjoyment of nature is stunted, limited to a mere consideration of the weather for practical purposes. If nothing else, step outside, or poke your head out of a window, and look up. Look at the blue of the sky, the clouds. Even if it's dreary out, notice the shades of gray in the sky. Have you ever thought about how lovely gray can be? The color gray gets a bum rap, I think. If you can't go outside, bring nature inside. Put some flowers in the window or on the table. Gather some interesting rocks or acorns in a bowl. Arrange some twigs in a lovely vase. Tie bows to the twigs! I'm getting a bit carried away.

My point is that I believe we all need to be reminded of the importance of purposefully incorporating beauty into our lives. Enjoying nature is one of the best ways I know to do just that. After all, God's canvas, His creation, sets the bar for all things beautiful.

Music to my Ears

2009-01-03T23:13:00.005-05:00

Last night it rained. Earlier today Little Munchkin and Doodlebug were standing at the front door looking outside at the dreary, overcast, foggish day. Doodlebug asked why the sky looked like it did. I said it was because it was overcast and might rain again. Little Munchkin looked at her sister and said, "Remember? Remember when the sky cried last night?"

Oh, my heart! What a lovely, poignant word picture my baby painted with such a few words. Maybe I'll grow a poet yet!

A Christmas Day Performance

2008-12-25T20:36:00.003-05:00

Doodlebug, my older child, loves to be the center of attention. She loves to perform and regularly puts on plays and concerts for us. For the past couple of months the girls have been practicing a play to perform for whomever happened to be here on Christmas day. As it turned out my dad and brother-in-law were here for the day so the girls did have more than their parents as an audience. Their show was a three part performance which included a dramatic reenactment of Mary's journey to Bethlehem and the birth of baby Jesus, a slightly modified version of the Nutcracker ballet and a Christmas circus which had to be cancelled due to the dancing dog not being willing to dance when commanded. I videtaped the whole thing of course, but I have a very old, outdated video camera. Right now my dad and husband are trying to figure out how to transfer the video from analog to digital so that it can be saved on the computer. If they figure it out perhaps I can post a clip here. At any rate, it was an enjoyable show, and I am thankful to have some method of capturing it for posterity even if my equipment is antiquated.

Oops!

2008-12-25T20:30:00.003-05:00

My dad has pointed out my egregious spelling error in my last post. Thanks Dad. Really. I want to know when I've made a mistake especially a spelling one. I try to proofread several times before hitting the publish button but sometimes mistakes still escape me. I inadvertently used "here" when I should have used the word "hear." I started to go back and just make the correction in the post itself, but seeing as the post has been up for a day already, I decided to just post this retraction.

This Christmas Eve

2008-12-24T22:49:00.009-05:00

Christmas Eve 2008--here is what it looked like at our house: Most of the day the girls and I spent puttering about the house while my husband and brother-in-law braved the congested roads and crowded stores, at least I assume they were congested and crowded. I wasn't with them. My brother-in-law had flown in to town on Tuesday and had not had a chance to get his nieces a Christmas present yet, and today being the last opportunity, he and my husband headed out early to find something.

I spent the morning finishing up some last minute gift wrapping while Little Munchkin and Doodlebug waited eagerly outside the bedroom door, ready to take each gift downstairs and place it under the tree. Did you know that gifts have to be given a vigorous shaking before they can be placed under the Christmas tree? Little Munchkin and Doodlebug undoubtedly knew this and strictly observed this rule. What good little elves they are.

The girls watched a movie, wrapped and decorated presents for each other, took over the wrapping of their cousins gifts, abandoned the wrapping of their cousins gifts, and were playing in the bathtub when their dad and uncle returned from their foray into town. When the girls finished their bath, I got them started on a painting project to keep them busy while I wrapped the newly purchased gifts and finished up a couple of handmade gift projects I had been working on. Afterwards the girls watched the Barbie Nutcracker and ate Turkish Delight. Later, the girls and I cut out paper snowflakes which is the only way we will be able to enjoy a white Christmas here in the deep South. When I took the dog out around 9:30p.m. tonight, I noticed that it was quite muggy and not at all cold or even cool, yet it was in the 20's the other night (that's pretty cold for us). It just seems like it should at least be cold and blustery for Christmas if it can't be snowy. But then again, if I lived in Australia, it would be summer time now.

After taking pictures of the girls putting out cookies and milk for Santa (they love to pretend though they know he's not real), and posing in front of the tree, we settled into a comfortable snuggle on the sofa and read Christmas stories until bedtime. Of course I made sure to include a reading of the real Christmas story which I happen to have in a lovely picture book format accompanied by gorgeous artwork. The words are taken directly from the Bible which I like, and the beautiful illustrations really bring the story to life. Little Munchkin commented that she liked the pictures. Doodlebug, my budding artist, concurred. At one point I stopped reading and asked the girls why they thought Herod was "troubled" at the thought of Jesus' birth. Doodlebug gave a couple of vague answers then quickly gave up in frustration. She wasn't feeling well and didn't want to think about answers to questions. She just wanted to here the story. Then, Little Munchkin suddendly piped up, "Because he didn't want Jesus to be king!" Awesome! My baby was tuned in to the details of the story! Sure she's heard it before, but no one had explained this particular aspect of the story to her to my knowledge. Based on her own understanding, she put two and two together and figured it out. I love it when my kids do that.

All in all, it was quite a cozy Christmas Eve day as far as I was concerned which is one of the reasons I wanted to post about it--to help me remember that it doesn't take much to make a memory. A very satisfying day indeed.

Happy Anniversary to Me!

2008-12-19T08:41:00.005-05:00

Today my husband and I celebrate sixteen years of marriage. We are celebrating by taking our older daughter to her violin lesson and afterwards we'll all go to see the movie "The Tale of Despereaux. It'll be a family celebration. My husband and I already had a weekend away alone a few weeks ago.

Yesterday, I was surprised to find a bouquet of roses in my laundry room. I wasn't supposed to find them, but I did. The laundry room may not seem like a good place to hide my gift, but it was the quickest place to ditch them when he came in the back door. I think he planned to bring them out later, but I discovered them first. They are lovely, all twenty of them. In addition, the girls together with their daddy, got me a lovely gift set from Bath and Body. I feel so spoiled. And I don't have a thing to give my husband as we usually don't exchange anniversary gifts since it is so close to Christmas. But he says he's okay with that, and we've been married long enough for me to know that when he says it's okay, it's really okay. I'm glad because I really don't have anything to give him, except of course my undying devotion and love. He's good with that, though.

God has given me a wonderful man for my husband. He does not take himself too seriously and is not afraid to laugh at himself. He is quietly secure as a man. He is patient, loyal, extremely hard working, and immensely talented, not to mention blessed with vast quantities of plain old common sense which is infinitely more practical than tons of book sense, though he has plenty of that, too. He is the ultimate handyman. I can't remember the last time we had to call a repairman for anything. He is very even keel in his personality, something for which I am very grateful because I am not always even keel. He is my anchor, steady, unfailing, and emotionally balanced. More importantly, he is a godly husband and father. What more could I ask for? Nothing, of course.

How very blessed I am!

Ordinary Childhood

2008-12-18T19:02:00.008-05:00

As I get up from the dinner table, I impulsively plant a kiss on my younger dauther's forehead, something I do frequently. As she happily munches on her dessert, a cinnamon streusel muffin, while I'm gathering the plates and utensils, I am struck by a plethora of thoughts. Funny something so ordinary and uninteresting should prompt such thoughts. Perhaps it is the very ordinariness of the moment that impressed me. Here sits my younger child, happy and content with enough food to eat, a warm comfortable house to live in, her own room, more toys than she needs, two parents who love her unconditionally, and lots of friends and family who also love her. Her life is ordinary, uneventful, happy. Not every child is so blessed, sadly. I try to tell my children this so that they will be appreciative of what they have, yet words are woefully inadequate. I continue clearing the table as Little Munchkin finishes her muffin then skips off to get ready for bed. Happy. She is happy. My children are happy. They are loved and cared for. They are warm and well-fed. And, I am grateful, so very grateful that I can provide a secure environment for them. I tell them frequently that I am so glad God gave them to me. I want them to always be sure of my love, to feel secure. I pray that one day they may realize how absolutely blessed they are now.

Nuts!

2008-12-14T23:16:00.009-05:00

This weekend we didn't go anywhere. No errands to do, nothing. On Saturday we spent a good chunk of the afternoon outdoors clearing a whole lot of junk out of our backyard. In actuality we just rearranged the junk, but it's much neater now. We did burn a lot of old, rotten wood that was piled up around my husband's workshop, stuff left from the previous home owner. We also finally moved the old shower stall and two toilets that were out there, also left from the previous owner. I'm so glad. The glaring white of the cast-off bathroom fixtures contrasted disturbingly with the woodland setting. So did the old tires. We moved those, too. It was a veritable junk yard back there. It was driving my husband crazy, but we had to wait until it got cold to do anything about it because here in Georgia a big pile of old wood, tires and toppled-over toilets are havens for snakes, spiders and scorpions. Not to mentions ticks that fall out of trees onto unsuspecting people. But all of those poisonous, blood-sucking, stinging things should be hibernating for the most part now so we were finally able to tackle the task of whittling down the junk pile that is our back yard.

It was while traipsing around rolling tires behind the shed and helping my husband move toilets that I made a thrilling discovery--a treasure trove of acorns! I didn't raid some squirrel's winter stash, but I did find scattered on the ground around the pile of old tires, lots and lots of big, fat, brown acorns, some with their little caps and others smoothly bald. I picked some of the best ones I could find and loaded both of my pockets. Why? For my woodland crafts projects, of course! Another idea I had was dusting them off and putting them in a little bowl on my coffee table so I could periodically scoop up a handful and admire their lovely, brown woodsyness. I also like the dry, clattering sound they make as I dump them back into the bowl. I enjoy pecans in much the same way.

I also discovered a lovely, pink mushroom which we tossed in the fire to see what would happen. I did tell my kids to move away from the fire and not inhale the smoke. I didn't want them to get high off of mushroom smoke or worse, poisoned.

Maybe next I'll find some beautiful pinecones. And twigs--nice, dry, snappy twigs.

Two Weeks

2008-12-11T16:07:00.004-05:00

It's been almost two months since I visited my blog. Things are looking a little dusty around here even though the newness hasn't really worn off this here little baby blog of mine.

Christmas is in exactly two weeks. I am once again inwardly scolding myself for my lack of preparation for the season. I don't feel I do nearly enough to keep myself and especially my kids focused on the real reason for celebrating Christmas. Oh, of course they know Christmas is about the birth of Jesus, but it's so hard to escape the materialism that bombards us from every angle this time of year. Each year after the holidays, I vow to do better the following year, to celebrate the season in all of its true meaning, to give my kids a thorough grounding in what it really means to celebrate the birth of Jesus, this awesome, miraculous event in which God became man, a perfect sinless man, in order to take upon Him our sins, to go to hell for us, to suffer immeasurably so that we do not have to. How does one impart that knowledge to her children adequately?

I know of families that don't celebrate Christmas with gifts at all. I also know of those who don't do Santa Claus but still give gifts to their kids. (I fall into this group though my reason for not doing Santa is primarily because I don't like the idea of convincing my children something is true when it isn't. In other words, I don't like to lie to my kids. I realize plenty of people, Christian people, do the Santa thing. I'm not passing judgment just explaining my reason for not doing it with my kids.) I know of other families who make a big birthday celebration for baby Jesus out of Christmas complete with birthday cake and party decorations. Yet, I'm not sure any of these approaches are adequate.

I can't just not celebrate Christmas though. I like what Beck said about celebrating in little ways over the course of advent so that all of the anticipation is not focused on just one day and then dispelled with a tremendous feeling of letdown when that day is over. At any rate I'm currently in the process of doing some more research on the history behind some of our Christmas traditions. It's rather surprising how many pagan traditions are mixed in with the Christian ones. I found a book on the subject at the library--a book by Clement A. Miles that I think was the authoritative work on the history of Christmas around the turn of the century, the last century, that is.

In my somewhat feeble attempt to find fun things for my kids to do leading up to Christmas, I came across some fun-looking Christmas craft ideas online that use woodsy, outdoorsy stuff such as twigs and pinecones and such. Seeing as how we have boocoodles of pinecones and twigs I thought this would be perfect. I had visions of tramping through the woods with my two kids in tow, bundled against the semi-cold, collecting stuff for our project. After which, we would burst into the warm kitchen, rosy-cheeked and laughing, ready for some hot chocolate and anticipating a cozy evening by the fire crafting quaint little pinecone angels. Well, the past few days of constant, drizzly rain have pretty much shot that vision of homeyness right down. I'll have to come up with an alternate plan. In the meantime I think we'll have the hot chocolate anyway.

Little Munchkinisms

2008-10-26T01:08:00.004-04:00

Little Munchkin got out of the shower last night and, spying her pajamas laying beside the sink all ready for her to hop into, exclaimed enthusiastically, "Oh! You've got my night-night jams ready for me. THANKS!"

"Night-night jams"--hadn't heard that one before, but I LOVE it.

Politics--Ew!

2008-08-29T22:19:00.007-04:00

Arrrgh! I just finished reading a post about a "mixed marriage." She's a Democrat and her husband is a Republican. The post wasn't what frustrated me. It was the comments. There wasn't any nasty mudslinging going on, but it was comments such as, "I was a Republican until I grew up and developed the ability to think about other people and their feelings," or "I was a Republican until my heart grew three sizes one day, and I could no longer be a political grinch" that frustrated me.

Frankly, politics bores me so I don't usually follow it. If I do decide to check in on what's going on in the political arena, I usually just get very frustrated. But even though I don't take an active interest in politics, I do have opinions on issues and my opinions are conservative in nature for the most part.

What frustrates me so much about comments such as those mentioned above is that the underlying assumption is that if you are truly a compassionate person concerned about those less fortunate then you would be a Democrat. After all, Democrats are the only ones really concerned about the "little guys." I remember my great aunt saying as much. But she was an old school, Southern Democrat. I don't think even she would be pleased with the Democrats today.

Even now, I'm feeling a bit too worked up to write a really rational post about this topic, but what the heck!

I guess I can see why some would say they "converted" from Republican to Democrat. It's much more fashionable to be a Democrat. All the celebrities are doing it. All the academic elite are doing it. All the environmentally conscious are doing it. It's cool, hip and oh so trendy! It's just not fashionable to be conservative in the world that the media presents to us. The scary thing is that I think we Americans are slowly being brainwashed by a liberal agenda via the media, the entertainment industry, popular culture and academia. That's just my opinion, of course, but I think it's true. When people make comments like, "When I really started to care, I became a Democrat," the brainwashing is a done deal.

The problem I have is that I don't trust Republicans either. I agree with this post in which the blogger said that she wished politicians would just stand for something and not be so wishy-washy. Yet, sadly, just such a politician in either party would not likely get elected in my opinion. The current presidential candidates, like any politician hoping to get elected, have to court voters of all persuasions; therefore, they will soften some of their hard edges for the sake of gaining votes.

I've told my dad I'm going to write him in for president, but he doesn't want the job. I don't blame him.

I'm Dreaming of a Cool, Brisk Fall

2008-08-29T21:02:00.005-04:00

As I was driving home earlier this afternoon, I was taken with a feeling of fall being just around the corner. I had a fall-ish feeling about me. The world about me, the same world I see everyday, was tinged with a fall-ish sort of glow. Well, it was for me. No, there are no trees changing colors yet. It is still hot here and will be for awhile likely. But, for whatever reason, I had a delicious sense of fall-ishness. I love fall, autumn if you will. I actually do prefer the term autumn, but I'm in such a habit saying fall, maybe perhaps because that is the term most people around here use. Nevertheless, no matter what you call it, I like it! Yes, indeed. Autumn is my season, a time when I feel my creative juices flowing. I don't necessarily make use of those creative juices, but they sure do get to flowing. I anticipate the holidays--fall festivals, Thanksgiving, Little Munchkin's birthday the first week of December, and, of course Christmas.

Although autumn may be officially a few weeks away, I'm totally ready for it--the brisk mornings, the earthy colors, the pumpkins and scarecrows and sweaters. I would say football, too, but I don't watch football.

Come on, Autumn, bring it all on! And make it snappy. I'm tired of sweltering.

Socialized Health Care

2008-08-29T07:43:00.005-04:00

I came across a good article on why socialized medicine isn't all that it's cracked up to be. For my future reference, I'm putting the link here.

A Birthday Post

2008-08-01T20:02:00.010-04:00

It's been two weeks since I've blogged. I guess that's what joining Facebook will do one's initiative to write. At first I thought the whole Facebook thing was a time waster; however, I've found a few people that I've not had contact with for a while such as college friends and people we knew from when we lived in Savannah.

So yesterday was Doodlebug's birthday. My baby is ten years old! And I'm feeling it. I feel old.

I wanted to give Doodlebug something special for her tenth birthday like a special necklace or charm bracelet, but I never found time to go by myself to get something like that. We did have a big cookout this past Saturday with church friends and Doodle invited a few of her special friends, too. She had fun and received many nice things including three gift cards which she loved.

I had planned to wait until after her birthday party to shop for her so I wouldn't duplicate anything. But she really wanted to open gifts from us at her party so everyone could see what all she got from us. I figured I'd get her a few little things for her party then give her something more special for her actual birthday. But it just didn't work out that way. We probably spent more on the cookout than we did for her birthday at Monkey Joe's last year. The present we gave her she loved. One of the things I gave her was a pink file box full of office supplies. It seems a strange gift perhaps, but I knew she'd love it. I spent a bit more than I thought I would putting it together, but Little Munchkin and I had fun doing it. Since Doodlebug has been pretending to run a jewelry shop from her bedroom, I thought a few official looking supplies would add to her fun.

And, of course, the Poppa came over for Doodlebug's actual birthday, yesterday and took her out to a Japanese steakhouse. Her choice. He also gave her money which she promptly spent. Despite my feeling of letdown at not commemorating her birthday with a special present, Doodlebug seemed quite content with the events surrounding her tenth birthday. That's what really matters, I suppose.

Why is it when I want to write about something it comes out sounding bland. Like this post. Ho hum. My baby is ten, dang it! Why couldn't I make a post about it more interesting?!

A neighbor was telling me recently that she is going back to college to finish her degree in communications. She said she's really good at it, and she's glad that after thirty-eight years she's finally found something she's really good at. Now why can't I be that confident. I haven't actually seen anything this neighbor has written so I'm not sure if she is as good as she says she is or not.

I had more to say, but it'll have to wait.

Let Nature be Your Teacher

2008-07-18T21:41:00.010-04:00

Another lovely, breezy, ordinary day. I intended to get up early to go pick blueberries yet again, but that so didn't happen. Staying up until 1:30 in the morning will do that to my early rising plans.

But, my handy hubby was up and at 'em early as usual. Today he built me a very nice and sturdy clothesline. (I should post a picture, but first I really should learn to upload pictures to the computer. One day, one day.)

Since he needed to wait for the cement to set around the clothesline posts, my husband volunteered to go with me and the girls to pick blueberries. So we loaded up and headed out to our friends' u-pick blueberry farm and picked about a gallon of blueberries. I've put up in the freezer the blueberries from our previous berry picking expeditions, but I needed some fresh ones for a recipe I wanted to try. It's a gelatin mold with fruit in it. I've never made one before, but I want to try this recipe because it doesn't look too difficult. It calls for strawberries, blueberries, and raspberries. We'll have to do without raspberries because they cost a stinkin' fortune at the grocery store, and we don't know anyone with a u-pick raspberry farm.

After picking blueberries, we made a stop at a cabin some friends of ours are remodeling. It's located in the woods overlooking a creek filled with lots of flat rocks and trickling water falls. It's a lovely, peaceful place and the girls went prepared to get wet. The cool water felt refreshing on our hot, dirty feet. Doodlebug and Little Munchkin loved it there. They were not ready to leave. I understood. There was something calming and centering about sitting there on the rocks, my feet in the water, watching my girls enjoying nature. I wasn't ready to leave either.

Knowing we would stop by, I brought my camera, but left it in the car. Though I could have easily retrieved it, I decided that this was one of those times that I wanted to be in the moment so I left the camera where it was. Instead, I took a mental snapshot of my two children as they climbed rocks, waded in the cool, muddy water, discovered raccoon tracks and sat by a little pool of tadpoles watching them swim about. I watched and listened and tried to answer their questions: "Are there bears around here?" "Do tadpoles turn into fish, too?" "Can a snake swim on the bottom of the water?" "Is there anything in the water that might hurt us?" "Will the little fish nibble my toes? Will it hurt?"

It makes me sad to think that there are many children who don't get the opportunity to really enjoy nature like we did today. We do not have rocky creek beds in our back yard to explore every day, but we are privileged to live in a lovely, woodsy, natural setting. Nature is all around us, and I encourage my kids to get out in it as much as possible. After reading Last Child in the Woods and For the Children's Sake, I am more convinced than before that it is critical for children to have opportunities to be outdoors. I believe it's possible, too, even for those who live in the middle of town though it may take a bit more effort to make it possible. I know because we used to live in an apartment in the city. For me, just being outside on a beautiful day is invigorating even if the terrain is characterized mostly by cement sidewalks and asphalt roads; but being outside on a beautiful day is positively exhilarating if I'm smack dab in the middle of nature, too.

Today was one of those days.

Where Has all my Summer Gone

2008-07-16T19:19:00.000-04:00

As we approach the middle of July, I find myself already anticipating the upcoming school year. I tend to over plan my planning and in the process get not much done. It's a curse of mine.

Also, Doodlebug's birthday is the very last day of this month, and she is fully expecting a party with all of her little friends though I've tried to stem the tide of her rising expectations by telling her that I have not, in fact, agreed to any type of party as of yet.

I'm not sure why, but I tend to resist anything that involves me supervising more than my own two children. Play dates with a friend I can handle from time to time, but I'm not crazy about bunches of kids running in and out of my house noisily and chaotically. And even when they aren't noisy and chaotic, there is still added stress mainly because MY own two kids are constantly asking me if they and their friend can do this or that. "Just go play!" I want to scream, but I don't. Anyway, I guess I'm much too uptight to handle more than a few kids at a time. I'm genetically predisposed. Thanks, Dad.

Doodlebug's birthday being the last day of July, usually signals the beginning of the end of summer for me because school resumes a couple of weeks after that. As a homeschooler, of course, I can start whenever, but since Doodlebug is taking math at school first hour this school year (as she did the second half of last year), I'll have to start when everyone else does. But it's good. I need a set goal to work towards. It just means that my summer is quickly coming to and end.

I turned 38 this summer (well, technically late spring), and I'm finding that the older I get the more my life does feel like a vapor. (James 4:14)

An Ordinarily Extraordinary Day

2008-07-14T23:32:00.001-04:00

Right now, atthisverymoment, I'm rather stiff and feel as if I've been on my feet all day which makes sense because I HAVE been on my feet all day. But, on the inside I feel alive and invigorated and not at all ready to go to sleep even though it is almost midnight.

Perhaps that is because I'm still riding the wave of satisfaction I feel at being rather domesticated and homey today. And, I don't mean simply cooking and cleaning because I DO do that daily. What I am referring to is more of an attitude of domesticity, of delighting in nurturing and caring for my family rather than simply seeing daily tasks as necessary evils.

Here's a run-down of my day:

First, I went out back to the jungle we call a garden and picked some ripe tomatoes and zucchini. I put the not-quite-ripe tomatoes in the kitchen window and the others I placed carefully and neatly in little rows on the counter top to await the boiling hot cauldron into which I planned to plunge them. More on that later.

Next, I'll confess I had myself a little computer time. There are four of us and one computer and no TV so the computer is used quite a bit and when I find it unoccupied I take advantage of it.

After catching up on blog reading, I piddled about doing laundry and sundry household tasks. Then I cooked lunch. After which, I got busy putting up some of our garden produce. I knew we would not eat up all of the zucchini we had so I shredded it and put it in Ziploc bags and froze to use in zucchini cake which I've never made, but I have a recipe for it and it looks to be sort of like carrot cake which I have made and quite enjoy.

Speaking of carrots, the girls picked some yesterday (oh how they do love to pull up carrots), and we made a carrot cake to take to church out of some of them, but there were plenty left. So I shredded those suckers and froze them, too.

Later, while the kids and their daddy went swimming, I mulled over what to do for dinner. Shockingly, inspiration hit quickly, and I got to work. We had green beans from our garden, baked beans, and a barbecue chicken recipe I found in my latest Simple and Delicious magazine. I think it was called Monterey barbecue chicken or something such as that.

The chicken was topped with barbecue sauce (of course), chopped green onions, tomatoes, a slice of bacon and some shredded cheddar cheese. And, I was thrilled to put this dish together using green onions and tomatoes from MY garden. Plus, we had the green beans from the garden, too. It IS exciting to grow one's own food especially when one has never done it before. Who knows, the novelty may be gone next year, but I don't think so.

Our delicious dinner was accompanied by yummy cheese biscuits which I made from scratch from a recipe in what must be Paula Dean's first cookbook ever.

And, and, I also made a blueberry crisp for dessert! With blueberries we picked ourselves! For free! Blueberries are quite expensive at the grocery store so when friends offered to let us pick blueberries from their bushes, I snatched up the nearest buckets I could find and set off to get enough to last a while because, guess what? I freeze them. And, do you know that frozen blueberries make tasty cool treats to eat by the handful right out of the freezer? They do. Yum!

After dinner, I set my cauldron, I mean kettle, on the stove to boil water for my tomatoes. After the water begins boiling rapidly, I will drop the tomatoes in for no more than a minute. After which, I will scoop them out and immediately plunge them into a bowl of ice cold water. Doing this causes the tomato skins to virtually slide off.

Doodlebug came along about this time and wanted to help so I told her what to do and let her go to it. She peeled the tomatoes, cut them up, squished the seeds out and put them into Ziploc bags. Then, she made tomato juice out of the leftover bits by squeezing it and running it through a sieve. There wasn't a lot of juice, but after Doodlebug got through with those tomatoes there wasn't anything left, but a little squished glob of tomato skins and seeds, and that went into the compost so nothing was wasted.

Really, my day was quite ordinary, but to me that was the beauty of it. It has taken my husband and me almost sixteen years to get where we are, but we are trying to live more deliberately. To find joy and satisfaction in growing some of our own food and freezing it. We are trying to stay closer to home and live a less hurried life and teach our children to do the same. Everyone is so hurried these days which is not necessarily the same as being busy. We were busy today, but not hurried.

Sure, I've had days like this in the past, but they were always scattered sparsely amid the hurried days, but now these unhurried, satisfyingly busy days are becoming more frequent. Oh, I know I'll have other hurried days in the future. They can't be entirely avoided, but my goal is to make them the exception rather than the rule.

Still Waters

2008-07-13T22:44:00.001-04:00

"Intelligence is like a river--the deeper it is, the less noise it makes." Harold Hayden

I don't know who Harold Hayden is, but I found this quote in a booklet on an obscure shelf in a corner nook of my dad's kitchen. (Just try stringing together four prepositional phrases like that!)

The booklet is one of those collections of old timey wit and wisdom (and misspelled words). The title of which is "From the Dust of Time--Grandma's Remedie's (sic), Old Medical Remedie's (sic) For All Old Deseases (sic), 1880 Barber Shop and Beauty Shop Recipes, Sure Cures and Some not so Sure" by Dorothy Gaylean.

Ha! I just read the back of the book where the author addresses the spelling errors in the book. She says, "No, the spelling is not a joke. I can't spell worth a damn." I was one of those who did indeed think the spelling was a joke.

The book is full of what you might expect from something with such a title, and it amused me for a bit. However, scattered among the recipes for such things as blood purifiers, homemade cough drops and gunpowder are quotes such as the one at the top of this post.

That quote totally jumped off the page at me. (Notice I said "totally" not "literally.") There is another related quote that I remember a teacher from high school using. It was something like, "Better to keep your mouth shut and let others think you're a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt."

AND, come to think about it, there is a verse in Proverbs, I believe, that says, "In a multitude of words, there wanteth not sin."

I've known people who are not necessarily introverted, just a bit on the taciturn side. People who are usually taking in the conversation around them, but are not quick to jump into it and offer their opinion. They are quick to hear and slow to speak, but when they do speak, what they say is worth hearing. Just like still waters, they run deep and make little noise.

Talking too much is usually never a good thing. I've been there, done that and dug myself some pretty good holes.

I'd much rather be like still waters--deep and noiseless.

I'm Not Biased at All

2008-07-13T14:59:00.000-04:00

Me: Little Munchkin, I thought I told you to put your church clothes on.

LM: I will. I just got 'stracted by Doodlebug.

"Stracted." I love it! Just like I love it when she says "puglic" as in "Is that a puglic bathroom?" My kids are SO darn funny and cute, I think I'll go eat 'em up right now.

Reflections on the Title of my Blog

2008-07-09T11:04:00.000-04:00

I toyed with renaming my new blog. Then my dad pointed out that one's thoughts and musings are much like little matryoshkas, nested one inside another. How true, I thought. You "open" one thought to explore it, another presents itself. You "open" that thought and then another one is there perhaps a bit smaller and more focused. Eventually you get to a sharply focused thought, and think "Aha! Revolutionary! Why did I not see it this clearly before?!"

But then! Then, when you finally sit down at the computer to blog about your revolutionary, insightful thought, it vanishes inside the bigger and bigger thoughts until that small, focused, beautiful thought is hidden; and then, much like the littlest matryoshka hidden inside all of the bigger ones, the details of your eureka moment become vague in your memory.

But it IS still there waiting for you to open it up again when you aren't sitting in front of the computer. Strange how the computer does that to a thought. But perhaps then, upon revisiting it, the details will etch themselves in your memory a little more until eventually you can paint a lovely word picture of your thought without having to "see" it because you will come to "feel" it instead.

So, I decided to stick with my blog name.

Downloading my Thoughts

2008-07-05T23:44:00.000-04:00

The hour is late, almost midnight, but that seems to be the best time for me to have the house to myself, when everything is totally quiet except for the chirping of crickets outside and the hum of the air conditioning inside.

I'd certainly like to be an early to bed, early to rise kind of person. I imagine those people get oh so much done during the wee small hours before everyone else is up. I'd like to do that, too. It also seems more spiritual and less lazy to get up early. But then again, those early risers have their faults, too, like looking down on everyone else who doesn't get up at the crack of dawn like them. They know it's true, yes they do.

I read somewhere that you should be consistent with the time you get up in the morning, regardless of what time you went to bed. Doing so supposedly is good, somehow, for getting into good sleep habits that are good. Yay, I'm on the right track! I've been consistently getting up some time before lunch each day so far this summer.

(I heard somewhere many years ago that it's not proper to begin too many sentences with the pronoun I when writing a letter. I guess that could apply to blog posts, too. Oops.)

As of this past May, I've been out of high school for twenty years!! Holy mackerel!! This didn't just dawn on me, but the thought intruded in my brain again so I've banished it to this blog. I feel old. The stiff joints and achy feet when I first get up in the morning and have to do the old-lady-shuffle to get to the bathroom don't help my perception of my age one little bit.

Not at all.

It's after midnight now so I better get to bed. I'm done downloading my thoughts now.

In Celebration of the Fourth of July (and Canada Day, Too)

2008-07-04T23:19:00.000-04:00

July 4th! A holiday I don't usually give a lot of thought. But my very sociable Doodlebug wanted to celebrate. So we invited our Canadian friends over for swimming and a cookout. Nothing like celebrating an American holiday with Canadians! They got a kick out of it, too. Just to make it fair, though, I told them that we would make it a combined Canada Day/Fourth of July celebration. I had the girls' color Canadian and American flags and make a banner to hang up. I also found online a picture of a beaver wearing a shirt with a maple leaf on it for the girls' to color. They loved that.

Our friends are great sports and really, and, as they themselves pointed out, they've lived here in the U.S. of A. the vast majority of their married life; plus, their adorable little baby was born here. So there you go.

Hooray for the red, white and blue! And the red and white, too! And hooray for me, I made a rhyme!

In Praise of a Perfectly Lovely Day

2008-07-01T22:38:00.000-04:00

Oh, the loveliness of today! Here in West Georgia we have had unseasonably cool weather the past couple of days, and it has been glorious. I love coolish weather. Autumn is my favorite season because of the crisp, breezy coolness it brings round about October/November. Yes, here in the South, fall comes a bit later. It's usually still rather warm in September.

But today! Today did not feel like July 1. I told my husband that I imagined this is what summer is like for those who live in the far North. "Um, sure," he said, disinterestedly while busily sketching plans for our new deck. I'm sure it gets hot up North, too, though minus all of the humidity we have here. How I loathe humidity.

First thing this morning, I took full advantage of the lovely weather and went for a walk, then picked some vegetables from the garden, weeded the flower bed and cut some flowers for an arrangement. After I came inside, I opened all of the windows so we could get a little cross ventilation going, arranged the flowers in a couple of little vases, and prepared the tomatoes for the freezer all while enjoying the gentle coolness of the breeze blowing through the kitchen window.

Doodlebug and Little Munchkin played with some air-drying clay, happily molding it into such things as flowers in little pots, animals, and other indistinguishable objets d'art.

Later, I stood outside in our wonderfully thick, lush grass while my husband muttered and puttered about measuring for the deck he plans to build which will greatly aid our al fresco dining capabilities. I would occasionally hold the measuring tape for him, but mostly I stood there soaking in the day.

Eventually, I found myself flat on my back in the freshly cut grass which smelled faintly and deliciously like watermelon. I hadn't fallen or anything. I purposefully lay down in the grass. I've dreamed for a long time of having thick, luxuriant grass in my yard and now I have it. Today was the perfect day for exulting in it which for me meant rolling around in it. So, I lay there while my husband measured and muttered, and I inhaled deeply the beauty of the day.

At one point while lying on my stomach, I imagined that if I stretched out my arms, I would kind of be giving the earth a big hug. That's just what an exceptionally lovely day will do to me--turn me into an earth-hugging nature nut. Now as I sit here typing while my girls drift off to sleep, I can hear the night song of the crickets, katydids, and frogs through the open window.

And I wonder how anyone can possibly believe the beautiful complexity and diversity of the world around us just evolved.

"The heavens are telling of the glory of God; and their expanse is declaring the work of His hands." Psalm 19:1

Abundance

2008-06-30T09:38:00.000-04:00

Ah! Our first garden harvest from our first real garden. The girls were so excited that they even ate the cabbage I cooked for supper. Well, Doodlebug did anyway. Here is a pic of Little Munchkin (on the left) and Doodlebug (on the right, of course) holding their haul from our garden which actually was several weeks ago now:

No tomatoes at the time the above photo was taken, but just a couple of weeks later we had these:

And the flowers were the result of some wildflower seeds I let the girls scatter wildly in a little patch of dirt near the garden. Just looking at the picture of those lovely red globes of tastiness beside a vase of simple wildflowers makes me feel all cozy and homey and thankful.

Just look at those beautiful blueberries! I wish I had a better camera so I could zoom in and get a close up of those toothsome blue gems. We don't have blueberry bushes but we do have friends with a blueberry farm. The blueberries were plump and delicious and practically falling off the bushes. They are frozen now. In my freezer frozen. We didn't have some freak anomaly in local weather patterns in case you're wondering.

I'm a city girl at heart, but there is something to be said for country living especially with children. It is just so compatible with all that is, or should be, magical about childhood.

And the Night Grows Later and I More Tired

2008-06-29T23:38:00.001-04:00

It is 11:39 and the girls have finally fallen asleep. After being at the beach for two weeks, we are way off track with bedtime. Plus, it's summer and, of course, the tendency is to go to bed later because the days are longer and why should we be in bed when it is still daylight outside?!

So, I've been sitting here at the computer where I can see Doodlebug and Little Munchkin toss and turn in Little Munchkin's bed, trying to settle themselves down to sleep. Both are really such big chickens that they won't sleep alone in their respective rooms.

Anyway, I've been perusing a Charlotte Mason homeschool blog which inspired me to begin thinking about this next school year. For the past two years of school, I haven't felt as organized as I would like. I'm determined to change that this year, but I know that if I don't start planning now, the new school year will sneak up on me.

Organizing and planning for the upcoming school year--that's one of my goals for the summer which, shockingly, is almost half over. Guess I better get busy 'cause I also want to organize the girls' stuff and move the rest of their and our "in storage" possessions to our house, and that may take me awhile because Doodlebug and Little Munchkin have more junk that any other kids, I'm sure of it.

I'd have a yard sale, but I've been there, done that, and found it more hassle than it was worth. Although Doodlebug keeps pestering me to have another, and having a yard sale would very likely motivate her to get rid of some of her junk; yet, that is still not motivation enough for me.

I'll just take my castoffs to Goodwill and feel good about my unselfishness while waiting for my receipt for the tax deduction I plan to take for my charitable contribution.

Much more fulfilling than a yard sale, I'd say.

Raison d'Etre: Part 2

2008-06-29T00:09:00.000-04:00

I had another blog.

I liked it. It had a name and a header picture that I thought was rather awesome.

But something happened with that blog. I can't put my finger on when exactly it happened. Eventually that blog became like quicksand with me caught in it. I didn't feel that I could effectively redirect my blog in a way that would satisfy me so I ended it.

When I first made the decision to stop blogging, I thought I would stop blogging altogether and simply be content to read and comment on others' blogs.

Silly me! What WAS I thinking? It was not enough to simply read and offer up a comment every now and then. It seemed that more than ever, as I would putter through my day, I would be struck with some thought or tidbit of inspiration and think, "I should blog about that!" Then, "Oh, yeah, that's right. I'm not blogging anymore."

That's when I would realize that I missed blogging.

So I began blogging again, but instead of just taking up my old blog where I left off, I decided to do things the hard way and start over.

But this time, I'm staying true to my bloggy self.

Raison d'Etre

2008-06-27T23:26:00.001-04:00

Looking around my youngest daughter's room, my eyes came to rest on the little nesting doll, or matryoshka, that was sitting atop her toy stove. Aha! That would be what I would call my new blog.

Why? I wondered. The name seemed to fit, but why?

(Here's where I try to fit the title of my blog to the purpose because I didn't actually think that far ahead when grasping for a title.)

The purpose of this blog is manifold; however, because I am a mother of two daughters, my writing, I'm sure, will focus on them much of the time. They are the center of my world at present. But, I also hope to use this blog as a blank canvas on which to capture the lovely (and not so lovely) aspects of my everyday, ordinary life as I live it not just as a mother, but in all of my roles.

So, I was contemplating my blog title, which I happen to think is rather great. I've always been enamored with Russian nesting dolls, but never actually possessed one until I was in my twenties. I got it in Shipshewana, Indiana. It is supposed to be an authentic RUSSIAN nesting doll, not from China or anything. And I just love it. It is one of my very favorite things.

Funny how both my daughters are also quite fascinated with these little pieces of Russian culture. They both now have a small collection of nesting dolls, some of which are authentic and some are not. One IS from China. But if I remember the smidge of history I read on nesting dolls, the idea for them did indeed originate in China. But that is neither here nor there.

One of my favorite aspects of nesting dolls is, well, the way they nest. Some very large ones can have many, many little dolls inside them. Mine only has five pieces total, but that's enough. My girls especially love the littlest doll, of course, because of her miniature stature and cuteness. I do, too.

Perhaps I can draw the parallel that I am like the little matryoshka that sits on my living room shelf--composed at times, in pieces at times, multifaceted with many faces, yet a unified whole. Because my girls' intense interest in nesting dolls and the culture surrounding them, sort of sprung forth of their own accord, I think I also see them (the dolls that is) as representative of my girls' childhoods, a bit of their wonder and curiosity about the world and other cultures reflected in these little wooden dolls that they so adore, an emblem of unfettered, childish enthusiasm.