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Five Finds Friday (last first day, a giant sweatshirt and tomatoes)
Oh it’s Friday? I didn’t know. funny I was opening my car door and I noticed the side pocket. What’s in that pocket made me laugh – and kind of offers a snapshot of my actual life. A knife. Because – safety and preparation. You just never know what the future holds. Bubbles. Because – fun. Lotion. (That almost never gets used). Because – in theory I’d like to have soft skin and smell nice. In reality, I just can’t seem to make those things a priority, even when I put the lotion directly in the car. Cleaning Wipes. I’d say because of the current situation we’re all wading through.…
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camping with the boys: lake jocassee is a wonder, but what happened to the hammocks?
Some birthday gifts take a while to bring to fruition. That’s kind of true always, but it’s especially true during this season. Otto tuned 11 back in May. Last week he and I and Bergen headed to the always breath taking Lake Jocassee for an overnight camping trip. Really, it was always more about the fishing than the camping. It always is for that fella. We unloaded our meager little supply at the tent site and the boys tossed their lines in immediately. I love low key camping. And the boys are satisfied with that too. Being with these two is just plain old easy. And that’s not a feature…
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this little moment.
I cannot fix the world. Sometimes I don’t even want to try. But I think I can help (kind of) fix six little parts of the world. Six small stones that have the potential to have ripple effects on the surface of the water of the world. They share my last name (or did, pre-marriage for one of them). And my window of time is shockingly small. But recently, I had this gift of a glimpse of a better way. I was cooking in the kitchen and quietly listening – and storing it all up, feeling like Mary more by the minute. (Not in some holy way, mind you –…
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Parenting Teens: Say Yes
I’m not an expert, but I do have some experience. One of my teens is a grown up. Three are currently residing under my roof. And one more joins the trifecta this month. (I need a hug. Or a wad of cash for car insurance. Both. I need both.) Here’s one little tiny slice of advice. Say yes. To everything you possibly can say yes to. There are SO many nos in the lives of your teens. Sometimes their lives feel like one gigantic NO. And there are loads and plenty of things you must say NO to for your kids. Hitch hiking. Tik Tok. Diving headfirst into unknown waters.…
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the weekend ramble (it’s back)
There’s been nothing ordinary or routine about this summer so it’s probably to be expected that my writing has been hit or miss too. And like all of us, I’m actually missing the structures my life normally has – its natural parameters. In fact, that might be why we parents are going a little crazy as we think and plan for some semblance of school this fall. Of course it’s also the wild unknown and the constant shifting of decisions and game plans by the people we have put in charge of those sort of decisions. Anyway, I think I’m looking forward to a sort of routine for our family…
Keep Reading . . .
parenting: the slipping away
sixteen. a birthday post.
the burrow: a dining room tour
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Dear Child,
I’d like to think that I’ve said everything I am writing now out loud to you at some point during your brief and beautiful life thus far. And maybe I have. But what if I didn’t say it loud enough or often enough or in the manner in which you could hear it? What if I whispered it to you as you fell asleep or said it in a language your ears couldn’t understand or your heart wouldn’t hear? And that’s why I am writing this down. Recording it. In another format. A different way. Because it’s all bits and pieces I want you to hear a thousand times in…
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Five Finds Friday (tiny bags of bacon & I need a grits recipe for the Instant Pot)
Can you make a living as a Master Procrastinator? I don’t mean one of those ordinary procrastinators who puts off a big assignment or a task every now and then. I mean like – a MAJOR procrastinator. I’ll look for a way – next week. funny We had breakfast for dinner recently. Made Instant Pot grits. (Which will have its own category a few paragraphs down.) One of the toppings was bacon. As we were cleaning up after dinner there was actually a small (and I do mean tiny) portion of bacon left. Instead of eating it, I thought I’d save it for one of our lunches. (Summer lunches have…
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the directions. and where our stories take us.
It hasn’t been tidy. My story. My path to Where I Am Right Now. And, you know, I hope I haven’t “arrived” – whatever that means. I like to think it’s all just a progression, or a steady arriving or a long road to get to the destination that isn’t here on earth. Frankly, whether a long marriage or a devastating divorce, sudden singleness or a lifetime of singleness, I don’t know anyone’s story that is actually tidy. Stories are a mess. They just are. Because people are a mess. We just are. I have friends who have been divorced for less years than me who are happily and joyfully…
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that musical everyone loves.
I have this knee jerk reaction to anything that is overly popular. I don’t like it. Sometimes before I even give it a chance, I’ll just automatically have a distaste for the popular thing. It’s how I felt about Hamilton – ages ago when my kids came home singing the songs because their friend had told them about this musical. I didn’t care. Too popular. Too everyone loves it. Pass. And then along came good old Disney Plus with its free streaming service. And THEN along came good old free Hamilton on my screen. (My new TV screen – did I tell you the kids saved their own monies collectively…
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Grill. Master.
I should start with a confession. A Grill Master, I am not. A Grill Student? Eh, maybe. I mean, yes. I AM a student of the grill. Now. That’s what I am now. Two weeks ago I was a forty-six year old woman who had never grilled anything in her life. Unless you call cooking over a campfire that someone had placed a grill type grate over and even then I cannot recall if I ever actually have done that but it sounds like something I might have done while camping. Sometime. But two weeks ago all that changed. I was gifted a used grill and I was kind of…
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five finds friday. (homemade board games, babies & Bergen)
Friday’s here. It always comes quickly. Even when it feels like I’ve not been busy and even when it feels as if I am moving at breakneck speed. I’m somewhere in between right now. Last week I was sitting on a dock staring at a lovely and calm lake. But that’s not my normal. Honestly, nothing feels normal. And hasn’t for a long time. Distracted and without direction has been my M.O. lately I think. Although, if I analyze my time usage and productivity, that’s not exactly accurate. But – something is off, that’s for certain. funny Last night Piper and Otto and my faux son Matthew stole an idea…
Keep Reading . . .
The Nomadic Professor: A Timberdoodle Review
This Age.
the burrow: a dining room tour
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school planning over here …
I’ve spent the last two days deeply immersed in academic planning. Yes, for my own classroom of students here at Wildwood. And for my classroom of students in the Writing and Literature class I teach at Meadowlark. It’s been pretty exhausting. It always is. But this year it seems extra . . . unsettling. Because we all know (now more than ever) that plans are just ideas we hope get to happen like we wish they would. And we ALL know that plans never one hundred percent travel along the rails we’re laying down, but right now it all feels pretty train wrecked anyway. And I don’t love the act…
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downhill: a commentary on this thing called aging.
My daughter texted me, asking if my upcoming birthday next month was the one where I would turn fifty. F I F T Y. My daughter thinks I am turning F I F T Y years old. FIVE. ZERO. I need a bigger font. Simple pseudo shouting will not cut it. I’m not turning fifty. Not next month. Not next year. But soon. SOON, you guys. SOON. Soon I will be HALF OF A CENTURY old. No, I will not lower my voice. This is too much. I cannot accept this. If I cursed more, I’d curse now. This is a cursing age. Fifty. We all know what fifty year…
