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baby, it’s cold inside.
This morning the heat bill arrived in my inbox. It was absurdly high. And I think I’ve been chilled in this house since we moved in. Plus, we’ve been enjoying mild winter temperatures here so that makes me nervous. What will it be like when it’s really winter weather outside? I took half a dozen photographs of the schoolroom to post today. But I’m too distracted to take the time to edit them all. I just adjusted the thermostat to 59 degrees. That’s ridiculous – right? I’ll probably put the schoolroom shots up tomorrow. But for now, for today, any heat advice, my friends?
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dinner plans.
The kids are in love with a series of movies all created by the same guy. Hayao Miyazaki. (Yeah, I had to use my Goggle search tool to be certain of dude’s name.) That same Google search claims he’s Japan’s greatest animator. I don’t know. I don’t even actually care. I’m not even trying to write about him today. Not really. What I’m trying to say is that the kids love his movies and they wanted to watch a new-to-them one and have a little celebration. You know, I love celebrations for no real purpose other than the love of celebrating so I said sure! We had decided to fashion…
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ready.
The entire month of December is like a vapor to me. We spent it here and there. In-between one house and another. Packing up. Unpacking. One box down, twelve hundred more to go. For a month I have felt . . . unsettled. Out of sorts. A mess at the new house. A mess at the old house. Stepping over stacks and wading through piles. Internet working. Internet down. Today was a little light at the end of the tunnel. A little peace. A little hope. Every box has been moved. The floors in the main part of the house are clear and there are no makeshift passageways that wreck…
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Change of plans
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full sun.
That’s the color title of the paint in our kitchen. Full sun. The first room you enter if you come in through the back door. Which I imagine you would if you came over for a visit. Although the front door makes for a more dramatic entry point, it’s pretty inconvenient for carrying in groceries and stopping by to say hello. I didn’t edit these photos at all, just snapped them on my phone with the plan to let them speak for themselves. (Well, not entirely. I couldn’t let the photos do all the talking, now could I?) Here we go. (It’s a work in progress, of course. Like this…
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All She Wants For Christmas.
Despite the fact that we will only be opening stockings this Christmas weekend, the kids still love to chat about toys they like and items they would wish to acquire. On a recent car ride, the conversation in the backseat broke down a little something like this: “If you could have anything in your stocking, what would it be?” London asked. Normal responses flowed from her siblings. “A pillow pet.” “Nerds!” “Legos.” “Doll clothes.” Piper Finn didn’t offer such a speedy comeback. She sighed. She pondered. She waited until everyone was done sharing. She took a deep breath. Sounding as if she had just…
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This Season at Our House
Celebrating the Christmas season with these guys is always a good time. But this year has been especially pleasant and low-key. I think it’s because we have jumped off the traditional Christmas train entirely. And by “traditional” I am primarily talking about the exchanging and purchasing of gifts. Our tree’s base is not overflowing with presents large and small wrapped in cheerful Christmas attire. Not that there’s a problem with that if the floor surrounding your tree doesn’t look like ours. This isn’t anyone else’s story – it’s our story. We are not giving and receiving regular gifts this year. What we are doing is this: Filling the stockings with…
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Can I Get A Drumroll?
Oh my goodness. I am so excited to be back. I can guarantee that I am way more excited to be back writing the blog than you are to be back reading the blog. I will try to restrain my use of capital letters, exclamation points and the bold and italics feature on the keyboard. I said, I’ll try. Okay? I have, like, a bazillion ideas about which to converse. Or monologue. It has been so long since I sat down at this blog, in fact, that I had forgotten my own password. Our internet connection was restored today and I was both elated and downcast. Elated because I really…
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telegram.
Move in to new house basically complete. Stop. Exhausted but loving the quirkiness of this home. Stop. Internet not available until next week. Stop. Hot water heater broke on the second morning. Stop. Kids already getting great use out of the rope swings. Stop. Adorable to have the boys sharing a room for the first time. Stop. Surrounded by boxes yet to be unloaded. Stop. Power outage tonight revealed that we live far from any residual city lights. It’s dark here. Stop. I have a red front door. Stop.
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Moving On Is Hard To Do.
Moving always makes me feel sentimental. And helter skelter. Out of whack. Upside down. It’s such an obvious transition. Such an unavoidable Before and After moment. A time when you are forced to notice and evaluate your possessions. The sum of your life’s collection of stuff. Every drawer to pack and shift reveals old memories, bits and pieces of days and decades past, like so much driftwood. Yesterday, in an old china cabinet that once belonged to my father’s mother, I found a little stack of papers that I probably moved from Virginia over four years ago and haven’t peered upon since. An anniversary card from my mom to…
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new and improved.
The counter at the new house has a few flaws. I don’t know exactly what happened there but it left a pretty disgusting mark. And when I live in a house, I like to add my own problems, but cover up other people’s problems – you know? In the past weeks as I waited at the auto shop for one of our two vehicles to be repaired I noticed the top of their counter looked like floor tile – the stick and peel squares. The little light bulb in my head flashed on and I figured that would be a perfect solution for our yucky countertop. When my dad was…
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me too.
Last night some girlfriends came over to watch The Help with Riley and I. They brought red velvet cupcakes, Cheez-its and popcorn. I would have let them in without the treats, but that was a pretty great bonus. We chatted, we watched the film and then we chatted some more. We debated the importance of the deep part in a man’s head of hair. (Two for, two against.) We compared the film to the novel. (Hands down, books are better. True here too.) We talked about kids and salaries and dogs and rice and grocery shopping and using the free internet at the library. About the fear from late night…
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My New Favorite Title.
Last week it was eighteen first graders in Bergen’s Class. This week it was seventeen four-year-old’s in Willow’s co-op class. The day was long but it was really oh-so-sweet. What a privilege it was to watch my child interact with her tiny peers. To see her serve as the helper and offer all of her classmates a squirt of hand sanitizer as they headed to lunch. To eat lunch with her at the same table and to feel her wee little hand pat my hand as I walked by her seat. I was the helper, of course, so my task was to help. To help paint seventeen small hands with…
