Been quiet over here lately, hasn't it? Not a typical characteristic trait for me...quietness. You should feel fortunate, the people on this side of the screen would gladly trade places with you.
Here's what I have been doing lately...instead of writing here.
--I painted my nails this week. Fingernails. Which I never do. Ever. My toenails haven't been unpainted since, hmmmm, not sure if I have ever seen them naked...but my fingernails, not so much. But while dashing through the drugstore for a birthday card, this taupey-grey color caught my eye and inspired me to paint my fingernails. I am certain to regret it when they chip on day two.
--I went to the library. Because yes, I do NOT own a reader-thingy. And although I often eat my own words, going out on a limb here to say, I doubt I ever will. (Yes, I still listen to the radio and don't download music either...dark ages, I know) How can a computer screen replace the tactile beauty of the written word on page? So I visited the library with Miss Elli. She played, I read. We sat and enjoyed being surrounded by so much creativity. Brought home a big stack of the classics simplified for kids (or Chad). Family reading....LOVE IT!
--I have been de-cluttering in baby steps. Following the inspiration of others, I modified an idea found on Pinterest to fit our needs. So I am doing a "30 bags in 30 days" household de-cluttering. I made my list, stuck it on the frig and tackle a new spot daily. Some days it is as quick as a five-minute fix. Other days find me sitting on the floor amidst what looks like hurricane debris, clawing my way out of clutter. Loving the results. One flaw in the plan however....by the time the 30 day mark rolls around areas 1-15 will be cluttered again, I am certain.
--I have been cooking/baking a tad bit more than usual. More then usual means about twice a week, seriously. My culinary skills fall somewhere between non-existent and dismal. But as part of the de-clutter attempts, I am also trying to use up the excess of food supply as well. So I find myself pulling out frozen pork chops and attempting to create something edible from them. Not such a stretch for most...climbing Mt. Everest for me.
Okay, this post is getting rather lengthy and if the readership is minuscule already probably not the best idea to come back with a novel. So I will wrap it up...there really was no point anyway other than to attempt to defend my absence.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Once upon an end to Summer
Once upon an end to Summer our family set out for what we knew would most likely be the last day at the beach, for swimming, in a very long time. Here it is in pictures.
Nic was all smiles as his faithful
companion showed off her retrieving skills.
Ms. Elli shows off her 'hairy' eyebrows, goatee, and chest....
courtesy of her big sister 'Aiya'.
Chad in mid-launch of the 'dummy' duck.
This is my favorite series of pictures.
Kate & Bobbi swim in the background.
Putting on the 'hairy' chin.
All smiles.
Good-bye sweet Summer.
You were very, very good to us-
we will welcome you back with open arms!
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Remembering
(originally posted on 9-11-08)
I remember sitting in my parents home, our transitional home while we built ours, alone with Nicholas who at just ten months old had decided he needed to be up and walking. I was waddling after him, as I was five months pregnant with our second child.
I remember turning on the television, which was so out of character for me to do that early in the morning. We were not hooked up to cable, so my selection was limited to just the three local networks. I was busy about the house, cleaning up breakfast dishes, washing the sticky face of a toddling boy, and running back and forth trying to make beds and get dressed. Using the television for little more then distracting noise.
Somewhere in there, I glanced up. I glanced up to the horrible images and frantic voices coming from my television. It was as though the local news programs had been suddenly removed from the air and some distasteful Arnold Schwarzenegger movie was instead filling the airwaves.
I remember dropping to the floor of the living room and watching in slow motion as the realization came fully over me that this was indeed live. I flipped quickly to the other two networks only to be met with more of the same horrific images. I sat there. Quietly entranced. I am certain that tears ran down my cheeks as I reached up and grabbed hold of the giggling toddler that ran by me. I pulled him down into my lap, and even though he had no comprehension of the way that his world had changed, he sat there quietly cuddled tightly in my arms.
I do not remember how long I watched before I got up to make a phone call. But those moments seemed like an eternity. Even though I had no one who would be directly affected by this horror, I felt compelled to contact those closest to me. Just to hear their voice and share their sadness.
I remember the fear that gripped my heart. The fear that spoke death into our futures. The fear that made me look up and tremble at the thought of what was next. I remember going to bed that night in what felt like a fog. And mostly I remember waking the morning after with the hope that perhaps it had all just been an overactive hormonal pregnancy induced nightmare.
But as the sun rose so did our nation. The sadness and loss was so thick it could be felt in the air we breathed. But the hope, the resolve, the patriotism, the faith, the love--it was stronger. And even now, seven years later, I think about that day and all that the enemy had hoped to accomplish in their attempts to rob us of our security. I think about the evil that rested in the soul of those terrorists and I can not help but feel pride and joy in knowing that they did not succeed.
For just as the Lord has promised us, He turned the ashes into something beautiful. Though our sorrows may last for a night, His joy will come in the morning. And in the mourning of those who gave so much.
I remember sitting in my parents home, our transitional home while we built ours, alone with Nicholas who at just ten months old had decided he needed to be up and walking. I was waddling after him, as I was five months pregnant with our second child.
I remember turning on the television, which was so out of character for me to do that early in the morning. We were not hooked up to cable, so my selection was limited to just the three local networks. I was busy about the house, cleaning up breakfast dishes, washing the sticky face of a toddling boy, and running back and forth trying to make beds and get dressed. Using the television for little more then distracting noise.
Somewhere in there, I glanced up. I glanced up to the horrible images and frantic voices coming from my television. It was as though the local news programs had been suddenly removed from the air and some distasteful Arnold Schwarzenegger movie was instead filling the airwaves.
I remember dropping to the floor of the living room and watching in slow motion as the realization came fully over me that this was indeed live. I flipped quickly to the other two networks only to be met with more of the same horrific images. I sat there. Quietly entranced. I am certain that tears ran down my cheeks as I reached up and grabbed hold of the giggling toddler that ran by me. I pulled him down into my lap, and even though he had no comprehension of the way that his world had changed, he sat there quietly cuddled tightly in my arms.
I do not remember how long I watched before I got up to make a phone call. But those moments seemed like an eternity. Even though I had no one who would be directly affected by this horror, I felt compelled to contact those closest to me. Just to hear their voice and share their sadness.
I remember the fear that gripped my heart. The fear that spoke death into our futures. The fear that made me look up and tremble at the thought of what was next. I remember going to bed that night in what felt like a fog. And mostly I remember waking the morning after with the hope that perhaps it had all just been an overactive hormonal pregnancy induced nightmare.
But as the sun rose so did our nation. The sadness and loss was so thick it could be felt in the air we breathed. But the hope, the resolve, the patriotism, the faith, the love--it was stronger. And even now, seven years later, I think about that day and all that the enemy had hoped to accomplish in their attempts to rob us of our security. I think about the evil that rested in the soul of those terrorists and I can not help but feel pride and joy in knowing that they did not succeed.
For just as the Lord has promised us, He turned the ashes into something beautiful. Though our sorrows may last for a night, His joy will come in the morning. And in the mourning of those who gave so much.
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