Something Rare and Fine

Hello all. My hurty back is acting up again, so I will be (mostly) away from the computer for a few days. I will leave you with the lyrics to a Carrie Newcomer song I am listening to over and over:

the gathering of spirits

let it go my love my truest,
let it sail on silver wings
life’s a twinkling that’s for certain,
but it’s such a fine thing
there’s a gathering of spirits
there’s a festival of friends
and we’ll take up where we left off
when we all meet again.


i can’t explain it. i couldn’t if i tried
how the only things we carry
are the things we hold inside
like a day in the open,
like the love we won’t forget
like the laughter that we started
and it hasn’t died down yet

chorus

oh yeah, now didn’t we
and don’t we make it shine
aren’t we standing in the center of
something rare and fine
some glow like embers
like a light through colored glass
some give it all in one great flame
throwing kisses as they pass

chorus

just east of eden
but there’s heaven in our midst
and we’re never really all that far
from those we love and miss
wade out in the water
there’s a glory all around
and the wisest say there’s a 1000 ways
to kneel and kiss the ground

chorus

"Wait a Minute, Wait a Minute Mr. Postman"

I love the beautiful Scribe Template, but whenever I have to tweak things a bit, I feel like a chimp with a screwdriver. Or maybe not quite as smart or proficient. I realized there is no link to e-mail me from on the blog, and though I don't love how it looks, after a half an hour of messing with it, there it is. Please feel free to write me-- I have tested it and it works.

Now that I have been humbled by digging around in the codes, I am off to shower and head out-- we are bound for the library and then for a big U-pick farm nearby with a farmstand. Sandwiches in the cooler, CDs in the door pocket, and no schedule. My perfect Saturday.

If you want to read about a grander adventure, check out what is going on over at Walk Slowly, Live Wildly.




Of Farmer's Market Love

I knew my readers would share the Goodwill love with me! I have found so many wonderful things that I don't dare go unless I am prepared to purchase!

I got to spend an hour or two at another of my favorite places last weekend. John and I took the boys to Asheville to see some friends and took the opportunity to go to the Western NC Farmer's Market. Ever since my first visit, sometime in my childhood, I have loved this place. Long before we began to ask where our food comes from, and how it is treated, and how we can support the communities we live in or near, I instinctively loved the bins full of gorgeous produce, that moved in turn from the greens and berries of spring through the squash and beans and tomatoes of summer toward the pumpkins of fall. I loved the conversations over scale and cash register-- the neighbors meeting up with each other, the light through jars of honey and the peaceful saunter through the buildings.

I had visited our very local farmer's market with my sister, and stocked up on butter and beans and the first of the summer squash, so my spree was mostly visual. I bought what must be the last of the strawberries and a cloth sack of grits. (After a long learning curve, I can make lovely creamy grits.) But everywhere there were still delights-- herb plants growing in profusion, buckets of sunflowers and foxgloves, and something else. Something about feeling a foundation of reason and sense and mindfulness grow under what I had already appreciated and respected without being able to help it. And if our travels this summer take us back up that way, I'll be there again.

Goodwill Hunting

Wow, that pun looks even more hideous in black and white, but I cannot resist. What is definitely not hideous is this black and white number-- the sort of skirt I have wanted for a long time. $4 baby! It and some other goodies were found on a trip to a little Goodwill store less than ten minutes from my house, with my sister last week.

I love thrifting anyway, and thrifting with my sister, and two little guys who were perfect angels, was pure bliss. The boys racked up on books and a fisher price tape player with its own microphone, and Kim and I were able to try things on for each other, using that sisterly honesty and the occasional enabling nudge.

The damage? $24 for two skirts, one with the store tags still on, two pairs of capris, a shirt for each boy and a teetering stack of children's books. And a morning of fun in a clean, beautifully kept store. And the satisfaction of giving something cast away another life.

My skirt, after a wash, a line dry, and a steamy iron with lavender spray, traveled to church yesterday morning. The boys are discovering the wonder of their own voices played back. We are working our way through the books. And my sister and I are scheming about our next visit. (We could not help but notice a few beautiful sweaters on the racks.) Another satisfied customer.

Quiet

Long time, no post. I suppose I have been taking my friend Tonia's advice, to "Live first. Blog later." A little rundown of the last couple of weeks:

--Bliss to have my Joshua home all day, so we can putter around with Sam, be mostly schedule free, and share that uncluttered summery feeling.

--Reading some wonderful books, The Graces We Remember: Sacred Days of Ordinary Time by Phyllis Tickle and Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life by Barbara Kingsolver. Leading me to haunt the Farmer's Market now, and plan a garden for next year.

--Enduring the first fist of classic SC heat and humidity, and drought, which is taking a day off this day of grace, as we bask in overcast skies and 75 degrees.

--Rearranged my paper-crafting area and have been dipping my toe in, making a few cards, enjoying the paper in my hands and ink on my fingertips.

--Continuing to hang laundry, turn off lights, use the attic fan when I can and generally try to set my foot a bit more lightly on the Earth. Conviction on every side about the connections between ecology, human rights, and health. And how it is all coming down to stewardship for me, graciously receiving the gift of this life.

I read the above and feel that nagging feeling, that I'm not doing it, I am not flying that "I'm so busy" flag, the commodity of my spent time like a measure of affluence or importance. Even for this slow-living, stay at home mama, who really doesn't want anything else, I feel it.

But in the stillness of early morning, or late night, I am grateful, for time: time to breathe, to wait for the bread to rise, to wait for the shot to click the shutter, to wait for the pace of the child, to listen.

Remember Me?

It comes in pieces, like hearing the melody of a song you barely know, or a waft of the exact blend of candle wax and flowers from the church you married in, a bite of some forgotten flavor that carries with it somehow the warmth of the sun on your shoulders and the last peal of laughter from a long lunch years ago.

Have you ever had the feeling that you are coming back to yourself, though to be truthful you had not known you were away? That sense of, "Ah, yes, this is me." The me underneath the bills and mopping and baby weight and political news, the one who leaned forward in college in passionate conversation, who read long and laughed long and listened long. Her.

She has slipped back into my skin these last days. It has not all been easy or pleasant, for she brings with her the memories of why some prickly relationships are prickly, why some sins that seem persistent have their roots deep in the past, why life is messy.

But on the whole, gloriously messy. Take her subtle return for instance. She glimmered around the edges of a ranging and wandering and wonderful conversation with a precious friend. She waited around the edges of an art fair, her idealism and hope blessed the eco-changes we are making in our little home. She rustled in the pages of an absorbing book over the weekend. She settled like the blanket of lessening heat at an outdoor concert, wrapping the dulcimer and guitar and banjo, and the four year old who listened raptly.

She wore red on Pentecost, she rose to say, "I believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of Heaven and Earth. . ."

Stress or worry or just the round of life can dull our senses and cause us to forget our essences. Only God, Who made us in His image, could create such a variety of mysteries and marvels, wrapped in skin and set to spin on this green and blue ball of a planet. To connect with that real one He made is to live out the unique journey He authors.

So today is about the smell of homemade bread, pasting paper to paper, drying towels on the line and kissing boy cheeks and ruffling boy hair. CD changer loaded with dusty Cd's, a barely-diminished stack of books and a needle threaded to finish a present. What are the things that take you back to yourself?

From There to Here

The days of May are spinning away. I picture a bobbin on a sewing machine, giving over its thread to the progress of the seam. There is no stopping.

This picture was taken on our camping trip with our friends, only two weeks ago. In the odd ebb and flow of time, it already seems long ago that we pitched our tents, built the fire, and saw our children play together. And yet, like yesterday that we were college students together, when all of this life was only imagined.

As Joshua's K5 year comes galloping to a close, it has been a long journey, and a blink. It seems only an hour ago he walked away with his dad with a Darth Vader backpack and without a backward glance. And yet I know the fall festivals and chapter books and art projects and parachute play and playground heroics and heartbreak that have filled many busy days since that August morning.

We are a long way from the blueberry-eyed baby laid in my arms almost seven years ago, and for that matter, a long way from the tired and terrified mother who received him. And yet, and yet I can feel his slight weight, see his unbelievable smallness and complexity. Feel the fear and joy pounding in my veins, and how I then felt a long way from when that child was a hope, a prayer, a promise, a flutter.

The reality that gives me pause today is that despite the elasticity of my mind and heart, the odd speeding up and slowing down of memory, we are making something in these days. The bobbin spins, the stitches advance no matter how I perceive them. What am I making of these days? Is the seam straight with purpose? When I survey the endless and flying year past, I am grateful that there is another Hand at work, whose grace weaves and breathes through the moments and days, Who knows the end of the creation and is the Crafter of Love itself.

Fluffing

It is a nice day when Sam and I are just puttering-- no big tasks to do and nothing on the schedule but hometime. I was so very productive yesterday, on a family project for my father-in-law, and laundry and menu planning, and tomorrow is for bread baking and cleaning. But in the middle, a sunny Tuesday that began with a cool breeze. We ventured out to water our plants and all our baby shrubs. I considered a spot for my Mother's Day rose, and Sam found a new rock for he and his brother's growing pile in the carport.

When we came inside, I decided the time had come to change the mantel. It was all green and golden pottery and candles, with my huge rusty metal star over it, and I'd been very happy with it when I arranged it in January. But it began to look tired and stuffy and wintry, and made the whole family room look that way. (I should really add, that it looked that way to me-- John was content and the boys oblivious.) What I would really like are new cream slipcovers for the furniture, painted walls, and about fifty bucks worth of fresh flowers. But no driving + no cash = my favorite sport: moving all my accessories around.

We had the fabulous mirror from a clearance sale at Hobby Lobby, and I gathered the shells from the closet, and the candles, and the cake stand and birdcage from other locations. (thus the inevitable domino effect-- I was fluffing for two hours) Sam was my chief encourager, and it was fun. And now I look over at the end of the family room, at my one decorate-able surface in this den of books and toys and roughhousing and television and life, and it feels like May. Not a bad trick for a Tuesday!

Celebrating Mommying

Yesterday was Mother's Day, and for you mommies reading this, I hope you were celebrated by your husband and children, I really do. I hope you were carded and gifted and brunched and lunched. Perhaps you were scented and flowered, or maybe even pearled and silvered. I'll happily say I was-- with a rose destined to sweeten many summers, with other flowers and bath goodies, with the precious heart-thoughts of my boys in crayon and marker and construction paper glory. With my favorite chocolate with toffee from my sweetie. It was a happy day.

But mommies, I want to celebrate you TODAY. Back in the trenches, diving off the high dive, climbing on the treadmill and embracing this May Monday.

I celebrate the breakfasts you made and the socks you found. I celebrate the homework you checked and tucked into backpacks and the urgent discussion you had about what your little one should be NEXT Halloween.

I celebrate when you felt impatient and held your voice steady anyway and smiled anyway. I celebrate when you lost it and then came back to say "I'm sorry."

I celebrate the boo-boos you kissed and the fairy dust you sprinkled and the armies you defeated, all before nine AM.

I celebrate you, reading the favorite book for the 99th time and remembering to use all the voices.

I celebrate the sheet you laid over the dining table and the sandwiches you served in the fort, or the teddy bear you dressed in silk for the tea party.

I celebrate blowing bubbles and poster paint and rings in the bathtub, popsicles dripping down knobby wrists and one more question, "Why?"

I celebrate cooking dinner and quizzing on spelling and explaining the life cycle of butterflies all at once.

I celebrate toys on the floor and happy faces at the table.

I celebrate the lullabies and the one more stories, the tiptoe out and only the energy left to say, "Thank you."

I celebrate these everydays, the threads of what we do, and I take them up again.

And Away We Went

. . . up into the beautiful mountains, where spring has really just arrived, and everything is that shade of green that is vibrant and tender all at once. Camping and meeting up with dear friends and sharing the unique joy of watching our kids play together. Likely there will be other pictures this week from our brief getaway. It was wonderful, and we were especially thankful to have a pretty afternoon on Friday, and to have all our things loaded on Saturday just as the first drops of rain fell.

The last bits of post-camping laundry are drying on the line and we are diving into another week. We are now at the point in the school year where events are heralding the end and we speed toward summer. It is a bumpy but delightful tumble downhill to the first of June. Let's go!

A Sprig or Two

A peek out of our sliding glass door onto the patio, where my herbs have their home this year. I had already bought a few plants, earlier in the season, and yet I bought more when I returned to the Farmer's Market with my friend Mollie last weekend. Another sort of basil which I believe is called "Pesto Perfect," a lime thyme, another lemon thyme, orange mint, a Tuscan Blue rosemary. . . Many will stay here on the patio, convenient to water and use, and to winter over, and others will go in the ground. A little English lavender and the rosemary are already planted by my Julia Child rose.

I love herbs. I cook with them when I have them, of course, but I also love their usefulness, their variety, their fragrances and the way a sprig of lemon thyme is spring to me.

Have a happy day, and think of the bruschetta and roast chicken with rosemary to come!

She's back!

I have returned from the land of no-posting, from the land of husband out of town, outbreak of strep throat, and nothing to say. From the land of boys missing their daddy and mommy being cared for by precious friends.

Instead of a recap of the adventures and misadventures of the last two weeks, recountings of exactly how bad my throat hurt and how good antibiotics are, and reflections that my husband and I really are just the teeniest bit co-dependent. . . instead of all that, I'll offer you a modest list of delights that strike me fresh and new this week.

--the first morning, after being sick, when you awaken and realize that you feel yourself again, weakened perhaps, but YOU, and life is wider than tissues and medicine and really bad TV

--an aired-out house, smelling like breezes and spring and health

-- morning coffee

--a clear sky lightening over the mountains

--sheets stretched over the bed, washed and line-dried and promising peaceful rest at the end of the day

--gifts of fresh flowers everywhere-- roses, lilies, iris and peonies (thanks Mom, Rachel, neighbors)

--a Saturday plant festival with a good friend, filling her car with herbs and flowers

--Mrs. Meyers Lemon Verbena Ironing Spray spritzed over tea towels, taking the chore out of ironing

--bread baking

--the four of us around the table

--bedtime kisses, morning cuddles

--laughing at Jon Stewart

--hot buttered popcorn

--reading together: An Angel for Solomon Singer and I Like to Be Little, mommy choking a bit over the words, smiling through tears

--praying for help and being cared for by Jesus followers-- seeing His fingerprints all over their acts of grace

--thankful for a voice, for a little community to return to

Really, a list too long to count. What simple pleasures fill your days?

Daily Bread

Until recently I was not much of a label-reader in the grocery store. I tried to buy lots of fresh foods without the need for labels, and for the rest I trusted my instincts. But then came The Omnivore's Dilemma and my blissful ignorance was over. Three weeks ago I turned over the package of "healthy" whole grain bread I purchased and drowned in a paragraph of preservatives and five different kinds of sugar. (A similar epiphany happened when I discovered the high fructose corn syrup lurking in my canned kidney beans, but that is another story.)

At that point I decided to start making the vast majority of the bread we eat here at home. Again I feel I am coming late to the party on this, but I'm happy just to have found something that works for us. Here's the recipe I'm using:

Whole Wheat Bread

Posted by Ruth Uitto on all recipes.com

The original recipe was geared to making four loaves of bread, but here I have adjusted the amounts to yield two loaves. The reason for this is simple-- I use my KitchenAid mixer for the kneading, and that is the amount of dough it can handle. The dough can of course be mixed and kneaded by hand.

2 TBSP plus 2 tsp shortening
½ C hot water
½ C brown sugar
1 ½ packages yeast
2 C warm water
2 TBSP white sugar
2 tsp salt
3 C bread flour
3 C whole wheat flour

Dissolve shortening and brown sugar in ½ C hot water and let cool. While this is cooling, dissolve yeast in 2 C warm water in bowl of mixer. Using paddle attachment, combine with white sugar, salt and bread flour. Add the shortening mixture and combine. Then, a cup at a time, add the whole wheat flour. (I typically switch to the dough hook after the first cup of ww flour. ) Once 3 C whole wheat flour has been added, I knead in the mixer with the dough hook for 5 minutes. Then turn out into greased bowl and turn dough to coat all over. Cover with plastic wrap and let rise until doubled, 1-2 hours.

Shape into loaves and place in greased pans, cover with plastic wrap. Let rise 1 hour. Remove plastic wrap and bake at 350 degrees for 35 minutes.


I want to play with decreasing the sugar a little bit, but this has been a foolproof recipe for me, and is free of preservatives. It works well for sandwiches or toast. I used unbleached bread flour and organic stone ground whole wheat flour.

And then there is something spiritually satisfying about making the bread our family eats, seeing the fat brown loaves cooling on the counter, smelling the wholesome aroma through the house.
Enjoy!

"Little by little, bit by bit, little bit by little bit. . . "

This has been a learning year for us, a time of reading and becoming informed and making some new choices in our family life, in how we run our home, in what we can do to care for the earth, or at the very least, reduce our negative impact on the environment. We're changing the food we put in our bodies, and where we buy it, and why, and what products we use to clean our home and our clothes.

One of the happy surprises we've had is how many more responsible choices are what I call win-wins-- we benefit the earth and ourselves, even in the short term, at the same time. First in line was the switch to compact fluorescent bulbs. Less power consumed will equal lower power bills.

And now, our latest purchase
We wanted to put up some kind of a clothesline in our yard, but the boys' playspace is already pretty limited, so we ordered an umbrella clothes dryer. I am amazed by how much it holds, how much I enjoy being outside first thing to hang our laundry, and really how it is not a big deal. It will reduce our use of electricity, and is such a simple thing, yet a year ago, it never would have crossed my mind.

Some of you may be so much farther down the road than me on the things I'll be posting about this week. But for us, every little positive change or powerful choice we make is one step further in a good direction. Today I am thankful to be aware of the warm sun, the breezes, the free gifts freely given with a lavish Hand.

Of course, I had to embroider my plain Jane clothespin bag with some cute cherries to remind me that this is a sweet life. It really is.





Pause

Not much to say today. My Sam is four. He is the tallest in his little Sunday school class and his knees have lost much of their chub. But somehow he fills us with delight in ever increasing measure.

My Joshua is sick-- began as a bad cold, now a sore throat, pernicious fever and missing appetite. Home from school, and pretty miserable.

But while I (again) look for the thermometer, or do laundry, or decorate little lemon cupcakes, my heart and mind fly to the hearts broken in Virginia.
I can only pray that the God of all Comfort will be present in His peace. And I am grateful to have these mundane tasks to do, steps away from my own children.




Making a Pretty Niche

To be clear, I didn't make this pretty niche, I just noticed and recorded it, outside a lovely restaurant downtown, near our beloved Mast General Store. But looking back now, about a month after that cloudy, charming day, the image speaks to me, something about my life.

Often it is like that. Some of my images are just what they are, recording what we are doing, or showing off a new recipe or flower. But others have something to say to me, and it takes time for that message to come to the surface.

More and more it feels like my life at home is about making a little corner of loveliness and peace. Seeing the world alongside my boys' wide and innocent eyes, it seems more and more like an unaccountably ugly place. So like this little nook right off Main Street, I want to make a pocket of grace and tuck them in. Making the little things big, crafting a life of simple celebration and gentle care.

But I follow Jesus. So somewhere this analogy breaks down. We are called to be Him in the world, and to train up our children to follow His path of love and service. My job is more like building a nest or weaving a cocoon for these little ones, from which they will fly someday with compassion in their wings, rather than a hiding place to keep them "safe." ("You know, he isn't a tame Lion. . . ")

This is a delicate balance, to teach them to guard their hearts without making them fortresses, to be wise and gentle, to be grace and live truth. And my role comes in a thousand quiet ways every day. My words can drone, but my actions enunciate more clearly than I'd like sometimes. And it all happens in this little place.

This is one of those posts when I am not really sure I ended up writing about what I meant to say. A pretty picture but no neat ending. I'll close with a quote from You've Got Mail, a chick flick I confess to dearly loving. I am not sure if it has anything to do with what I've been musing about. And unlike the character Kathleen Kelly, I'd dearly love to know your thoughts on my ramblings:

Kathleen Kelly: Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life. Well, valuable but small. And sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it, or because I haven't been brave? So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn't it be the other way around? I don't really want an answer. I just want to send this cosmic question out into the void. So good night, dear void.

Reconnecting

I feel as though I have been away from this blog forever, as though I need to introduce myself. "Hi, my name is Missy. I am into mommying boys, taking pictures and homemaking. "

So, hello! I hope everyone had a blessed Easter. Ours was quiet, after a busy week last week. Joshua was on spring break-- I regretfully send him back to school this morning. We were home the first half of the week, then spent the second half with John's parents and visited the Georgia Aquarium. That's where Sam's conference with the sea turtle took place.

The aquarium was amazing. Beluga whales, sea otters, sharks, and a rainbow of tropical fish. The habitats are incredible, as is the scale. The crowds were overwhelming to me at times. Five foot one plus poor vision and two active boys made for an anxious mommy some of the time, but having grandparents there to hold little hands was a great help.

What was most exciting for me was to see the boys' natural curiosity at work in the aquarium. Joshua had a "dive guide" and was busy matching the fish with their names. Sam's eyes were simply full of wonder. And my heart was touched in a familiar place-- feeling again the exquisite privilege it is to draw aside the curtain on the natural world, on art and literature, on books and learning itself for these little people. How I always receive back far more than I put in. How, no matter where the boys are schooled, John and I will always be the most important teachers they have.

I have about ten posts swimming in my head, on bread baking and buying organic and children's books about farms and embroidery projects, but this is the one for today. God is gracious. Life is good.

Happy Easter!

Christ the Lord Is Risen Today

By: Charles Wesley

"Christ the Lord is risen today!"
All on earth with angels say;
Raise your joys and triumphs high;
Sing, ye heavens; and earth, reply.

Love’s redeeming work is done,
Fought the fight, the battle won;
Lo! Our sun’s eclipse is over.
Lo! He sets in blood no more.

Vain the stone, the watch, the seal;
Christ has burst the gates of hell.
Death in vain forbids his rise;
Christ has opened paradise.

Lives again our glorious king!
Where, O death, is now thy sting?
Once he died our souls to save;
Where the victory, O grave?

Hail the Lord of earth and heaven!
Praise to thee by both be given.
Thee we greet triumphant now;
Hail, the resurrection, thou!

King of glory, soul of bliss,
Everlasting life is this:
Thee to know, thy power to prove,
Thus to sing, and thus to love!”

A Quiet Egg and Some Easter-y Books for Tots

Despite the cool breeze and clouds today, spring is upon us-- so vividly that we are praying for a shower to knock the pollen down. Everything right now has a yellow haze, and sniffles and sinus headaches abound. One good shower and the air will be sparkling clean and we can fully enjoy everything that is literally bursting around us. I am hoping to get to the campus where my husband works to take pictures in the next few days. Dogwoods! Daffodils! Tulips!

In our library bag this week we have a couple of especially sweet and spring-y Easter books. We focus very much on the sacred celebration of Easter with the boys, but the innocence and gentle tone of these finds is a nice compromise to me. The Easter Chick is a precious story of a slow-hatching chick who has his heart set on an Easter morning birthday. With the help of his mom, Hilda the hen, and a wise owl's counsel, the chick gets his wish. In the process, we learn how the date of Easter is set. The illustrations are sweet, especially the expressions of the waiting chick inside his egg.

The Country Bunny and the Little Gold Shoes
tells the tale of a little bunny who dreams of being one of the swift and wise Easter bunnies. She devotes her life to becoming a mother bunny, and her children are the evidence of her intelligence and stamina. This is a classic we had not encountered before, and both boys loved it.

We are also doing a bit of reading on farms and farmers, and heading to our local Farmer's Market on Saturday. I always think every season gets better than the last for learning with the little ones.

Have a happy day.


By the way, blogger does odd things with the text size and font when I add in links and then will not let me make the post uniform, so I apologize for the distracting text issues, but I've wrestled with it for awhile and would never publish a post if I waited to figure it out. So, blogger, the plot thickens. . . subtitled. . . you get what you pay for. . . :)

Drought and Plenty

I love the challenge and the book reviews and links, but I am going through a bit of a photo-drought on my own blog!! I will post later today or tomorrow about the spring and Easter kids books we've been enjoying, but in the meantime, I'll share a couple of shots of birthday treats! The enchanting cup and saucer came from my dear friend Rachel, and are a Starbucks goody. It makes me feel pampered just to have a midafternoon cup of coffee from that prettiness.

The confection is a bar of delectable raspberry goodness, given by my sister in law Kelly from our local Straussner's bakery. It came in their trademark blue and white striped box, with a chocolate sprinkled friend.

They did not last the day.

I'll close for now with the end of a comment I wrote at a blog community I belong to, when asked how I'm doing: "Honestly, I feel so very thankful-- after struggling with depression off and on for many months, I feel happy and busy and creative-- not enough hours for all the good things in the day."


Okay, I just hit publish, and I am am not sure why text is running over the pictures, or why the text size is different every day, even though I don't mess with it. Ah, Blogger, we have a complicated relationship. . .