HomeLife
How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. - Annie Dillard
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And Then There Were Goats.
On New Year’s Day this year our family gathered around the long farm table that takes up our entire dining room. (That somehow seems like a long time ago.) And we made a big old list of goals for 2015. Of course we wrote them on a chalkboard door in our house because that’s what we do. We’re not exactly breezing through the list this year but we have conquered an item or two – such as visit the ocean and build a bigger chicken coop. Last weekend we were able to check off another item on the list. And – it might be my favorite so far. You guys. Last…
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transparency: a mixed bag
I am endlessly encouraged by the kind and generous words people place before me – here, in the comments; in parking lots during brief encounters; through early morning texts; in letters (real letters) arriving in my mailbox. Completely unworthy of the words offered, I find myself humbled and grateful and frankly so thankful for friends (and strangers) who share uplifting words and sentiments, who ask hard questions and wait while I consider my responses. One word I can never take any genuine credit for, however, is the word transparent. Transparent. You know that word? I recognize that it is offered as a compliment – but the reason I don’t think…
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Oh Otto – you are such a boy.
It’s those sturdy legs. Calf muscles bulging. I like hiking behind my Wilde Otto Fox. He walks with a legitimate swagger and he is only five years old. Yes, yes. Of course I am partial to this kid. That’s what we mothers do. It’s how the world is supposed to work. You pick your children and you like them best. It’s like – the law of mothering or something. But I really do think Otto Fox is a kind of swell kid. He’s at the age where he is extra funny. His inflection combined with his enunciations combined with the sweet tone of his voice at this stage and suddenly…
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in the blue bag
Sometimes you just have to laugh. One night this week I tried to eat my delicious salad dinner in the car. On a pottery plate with a regular fork. That’s crazy guys. (I know my friend Hilary does it all the time. I sent her a picture and said I felt just like her.) When I arrived at my destination I wanted a mint. You know, a post-salad-eaten-in-the-car mint. In my bag I found this Altoids tin. Score! A mint for me. Oh, but no. No mints. Instead, this little red and white tin was filled with matches and cotton balls. Thanks Bergen. I can start a fire in an…
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stream of consciousness: thursday edition
It’s after midnight. I just had a conversation with my son. Apparently no one can get any routine sleep in this house. Life is just hard, ya’ll. It. Is. Hard. And I am tired. Tired of sleepless nights and tired of sad afternoons. I’m tired. Like the kind of literal tired as in – I don’t get enough sleep. And the kind of figurative tired as in – My heart hurts a lot of the day. And – can I say this? – I am tired of being tired. I am sick of being full of sorrow. I am all tired out of being all tired out. Today I cut…
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the business details. (in which I present ways you can help me.)
Well. I’ve been trying this Amazon link thing somewhat subtlety for the past year or so. It’s been working …… like …….. meh. I mean, it’s not steady by any means. Some months my kickback is zero. Some months it’s a whooping twenty dollars. Around Christmas it creeped up a little higher for a fun month or two. I know it’s hard to remember to click through this website before you order your birthday presents and your mascara and your ice cream maker. I’ve probably made a total of about $200 – in seventeen months. Not exactly a steady revenue source – eh? And that’s alright. Obviously. I was mostly experimenting,…
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Midnight.
He’s five. She’s eleven. Last night they fell asleep side by side in her bed. Big sister. Little brother. They fell asleep and they were holding hands. As in – interlocking fingers holding hands. That is sugary sweet enough to give me cavities. My word. Preciousness defined. Those intertwined fingers. Post race exhaustion having won the wide awake battle. And I know I am blessed – surrounded by a glorious abundance of affection. I love the way the two of these kiddos love one another.
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The Dolphin Tour (you should know I was tempted to title this “the dolphin’s tale” but I deemed it too silly)
Everyone agrees about dolphins – right? They’re kind of magical and other worldly. I don’t know exactly why. No trip to the coast ever feels truly complete to me if that trip doesn’t involve at least one dolphin sighting. And when you see that one sleek dolphin rising and falling right in the gigantic ocean, you feel a little amazed. And when you see – like fifty of them – you feel like a lottery winner. On our recent raccoon-filled camping adventure to Edisto Island our family and our friends loaded a boat on a super windy afternoon and tried to follow the rivers and the inlets to catch some…
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lyrics
I heard this song on Sunday for the first time. It fits everything about everything right now. Jesus Draw Me Ever Nearer – lyrics by Margaret Becker Jesus draw me ever nearer As I labour through the storm. You have called me to this passage, and I’ll follow, though I’m worn. May this journey bring a blessing, May I rise on wings of faith; And at the end of my heart’s testing, With Your likeness let me wake. Jesus guide me through the tempest; Keep my spirit staid and sure. When the midnight meets the morning, Let me love You even more. Let the treasures of the trial Form within…
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simple advice.
I walk into this meeting and a kind friend asks, “How are you?” Who knew “how are you?” would become such a loaded question? And I shrug. Talk about how much I dislike pumping gas in the rain, about how I couldn’t get that blasted tent into its two inch case, share a couple heavy fears. You know, way too much information for the simple “how are you?’ question. (Listen, friends. Don’t ask the question if you don’t actually want the answer.) He grins a little sympathetic grin. I know he gets it. So I get this fist pump, high five, kind of hybrid from him and he says simply,…
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nighttime says this ….
They’re like dominoes. Night falls. One comes down the steps. Tip toe. Stomp. Creak. Tip toe. Creak. Creak. Creak. And the bed fills up. Five times over. By the time my bedtime arrives, I’m looking for any ounce of room. It’s a king sized bed but its regal size isn’t large enough for all this kid royalty. Sleeping big kids are nearly impossible to maneuver. Their limbs all gangly and long and heavy and twitchy. Gone are the scoop and slide days. I slip and twist and scrunch to contort my grown up self into any leftover space. My body literally cannot fit if I lie on my back. It’s…
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written from the middle of my bed
Mornings are hard. The warm bed, the thick covers, the heavy breathing of my sons beside me. I don’t want to leave the bed. The alarm goes off and I hold my stupid little phone in my fist and squint at the screen to see what time it is. To determine how many extra minutes I can squeeze out of the morning to stay right where I am – ensconced between two warm, cuddly fellows and enveloped in the foggy morning mental mist that comes before the clarity of each new morning. Only those of us who have walked life paths we haven’t carved for ourselves know how much renewed…
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The Day I Went To A Gym
I don’t know why I said yes. Well. I kind of do. But, that’s probably a story for another post. All I know is on a Friday afternoon I found myself wearing some kind of black legging thing, a running skirt, a t-shirt and a confused look on my face. Mirrors lined one wall. People were sweating and I felt like the first day of seventh grade. I was in a Zumba class. If you know me, you know a few things about me. I don’t really do group exercise. I don’t actually do exercise. I have less rhythm than a telephone pole. I cannot follow exercise directions. Thank goodness…
