|
|||
|
I know I’ve shared Michaela’s sweet little doodle drawings before. Just last week she presented a new picture of me, to me.
It’s framed and sitting on my desk, to remind me of all the things I want to be.
Oh my. I have been such an unreliable, absentee blogger. I know the three of you who read every day have been hanging by a very fragile thread. I do apologize. Really. I can’t begin to explain what has happened to me. I think Father Time put the clocks in my house on high speed. Or maybe I have too much going on? I’m not sure who’s at fault, but it’s either me or Father Time. Between planning for school, working, crafting, and tons and tons of paperwork lately, it seems I barely have time to sleep. And housework. Don’t get me started. Let me just talk for a minute. I do not have toddlers anymore. So why is my house such a mess? For some reason, teenagers, and even 20-something-year-olds, like to stay up late and eat. At the same time. And for some odd reason, teenagers, and even 20-something-year-olds, don’t like to bring their dishes to the kitchen when they are done. What did I do wrong? I mean, I know I did something right because they do remember — even my boys — to cut the Boxtops off the cereal boxes before they throw them away, but in other areas I have clearly failed. Let’s talk about something else. I had a good laugh today. The phone rang. It was a dear friend of mine. She said, “We’re giving away Baby and we wondered if you wanted her.” Good thing she didn’t say we’re giving away A baby, because I would have totally forgotten that I was an employee for someone, and I would have ripped my headset off and gone and picked up my new baby. It turns out that they were giving away Baby, their dog. Oh. Now that’s a whole nother matter altogether, and I’d say I’m probably the last person on earth that anyone should offer a dog to. In fact, I have just spent the last half hour outside with Annie, a.k.a. Fatso Beagle. She was tethered to the mulberry tree while I fed the bunnies. Maybe somewhere in all of my babbling (see above) you’ll find a reason or two why I might be out in pitch black, at 10 p.m., feeding eight bunnies. I actually just had the children look me over for large, creepy spiders because I know I ran through several webs out there, in spite of my flashlight. I have no idea if Annie wet outside while we were out there. I highly doubt it because I need to shampoo my hallway carpet, UH GAIN. Oh. Back to why no one should offer me a dog. I cannot get Annie housetrained. I don’t think I can say it any simpler than that, but I’ll try. I. Cannot. Get. Annie. Housetrained. And I probably needed some kind of therapy before I even made that four-hour drive across the state to buy a beagle. The other night I had a dream that probably represents some deep unresolved issues. Yeah, on the surface it might seem like it just represents my disturbed state over the relationship I’ve had to develop with the carpet cleaner, but really, I think there could be some more serious issues at play here. Why don’t I tell you the dream, and maybe you could analyze it. Give it a stab, won’t you? So I was at home doing my normal thing when suddenly my dream shifted and I was in front of the computer reading the posts on our homeschool group e-mail loop. Wow!! The group leader, in her abundant spare time (she only homeschools 6 children and does about a gazillion other amazing things) had decided to tear up her wood flooring and post it for sale. Immediately I picked up the phone. (You know how dreams are.) I told her I was very interested in her floor so I made an appointment to meet with her and her husband to look at it. Nevermind that I’ve been on that very floor dozens of times. (You know how dreams are.) No. I wanted to see that floor and probably buy it. It was urgent. When I got there, it was very formal. She and her husband were waiting for me. I walked in, and what did I do? I went to a bin that held some fresh pieces of torn-up wood flooring and I broke off a piece and put it in my mouth. Then I began to chew. And chew. And chew. I could not really say anything because I was chewing. I chewed for a long time. On that wood. That I had planned to buy. At some point I had to borrow a trashcan to start spitting splinters into. Once again, I was speechless because I had to keep spitting out splinters of wood. Believe it or not, I think the leader of my homeschool group and her husband were pretty speechless too. Go figure. It was some time around this point that they told me they had been planning on selling that flooring for $9,000. Boy did I feel like a big ol’ wad of chewed up splinters. Who would want to buy a floor with a bite out of it? Then I woke up. I don’t know. I mean, I think there’s just a ton of deep issues that could be trying to surface in that dream. But I don’t have time to worry about it right now. I have more important things to do, like clean carpets and flail my way through big spiderwebs at 10 p.m. While you’re analyzing, let me just throw in one more dream. Okay? I’m not sure it’s as serious, but it could be. I dreamed I was in a large airport terminal, totally panicked, because I had gone out shopping with a complete stranger (how we ended up in the airport is a mystery) and I had left a huge pan of bear meat in the oven at home, cooking at 400 degrees, and I was worried that the house would burn down while I was gone. Meanwhile, there was a pack of mountain lions loose in the airport terminal and I was trying to warn people. No one took me seriously. At all. In fact, the look in their eyes when I tried to warn them was yeah, she’s a psycho nutcase for sure. I ended up hiding from the mountain lions, curled up in a little ball on a conveyer belt with a bunch of canvas bins that held airport terminal trash and dirty clothes. By that time I did not care what had happened to my mystery friend who had wanted to go shopping in the first place. I was just trying to figure out which would be worse: going where ever those bins were going, or facing a pack of hungry mountain lions. Then I woke up. I know you didn’t come here for this. My readership of three probably just plummeted to one or two. But I had to say these things. I actually have a bunch of unposted pictures, and un-talked-about school plans, and more creature information, but I’ve just been so busy. I promise to be a better blogger soon. I’ll leave you now. I’m expecting some really good dream analysis from you guys.
I know I said that I knew I didn’t fall off the earth, but maybe I did. Maybe I did fall off the earth. I’m wondering if maybe I should have stayed gone. And yet wondering why it took me so long to get back. Those of you who are so busy you feel like you are meeting yourself coming and going will know what I mean. The rest of you: congratulations.
Annie can vouch for me that I’ve been extremely-crazy-busy lately, with barely time to cook. And the carpenter can vouch for the cooking part. As you know, Annie sits with me when I type all day, and then when I’m gone, as the carpenter says, “her world turns upsidedown.” She’s been upsidedown a lot lately.
The school year is approaching and there are things I want done before the school year arrives. This past week I had a huge personal-household-tax-related-yucky-business-matter to work on. That’s all I’ll say, but realize that over the past two weeks it has consumed HOURS of my time. I’ll just be glad when it’s over. I’ve also gotten a yearly physical (not that anyone needs to know that) and, dare I say it, a colonoscopy. I joked about sharing the colon pictures on here, but I guess no one would ever come back and I could just shut the blog down completely. (My children didn’t speak to me for a few hours after I returned home from the appointment with my colonoscopy pictures.)
Annie, on the other hand, does not care how gross the hepatic flexure looks on paper. She still loves me. Thank goodness for that.
I’ve also been busy with bun-buns. We have eight now that I suppose we’ll have to keep for awhile. When it was time to sell the last litter to the pet store, someone beat us to it and the pet store had all they could sell and then some. So here we are. The phone rang the other day and when I answered my sister jokingly said, “Uh, yes, is this the petting zoo?”
I don’t like for the bunnies to be always in cages, getting little exercise, so I’m creating some places for them to run and enjoy eating violets and clover and laying in the grass. Coco is first to enjoy one of the timeshares I’ve set up in the yard. She is totally loving it. I hope that when the fruit of my loins numbers in the dozens, someone will make a place for me to run and jump, too. I accidentally let a rabbit get loose last week and you know where it headed, right? Yeah, over to Mr. and Mrs. Perfect Vegetable Garden’s house where it plopped down in a flower bed and began voraciously ripping foliage from some things in bloom. I didn’t see it right away, but my oldest son, who’s tearing apart yet another engine in the yard, came inside and said, “Mom, there’s a huge black bunny in the neighbor’s yard and it doesn’t run off when you walk toward it. I think it’s one of ours. Did you let one go?” Goodness gracious, deja vu, here we go again. By the time I got to the neighbor’s yard, Midnight was carrying out the aforementioned voracious eating spree. I shook some lamb’s quarters at her and caught her pretty easily. Thank goodness for little miracles.
On the gardening front, there is only one path down which one can safely walk these days. I’ve set up buckets of machetes at the entry ways of the other paths, just in case anyone feels inclined to cut their way into the garden to look at creatures with me. I don’t know, it just feels like time is going by faster these days. Or am I losing my mind?
I had to put this picture in (above) because I just love the bright green fern you can see in the background and how it contrasts with the dark spider legs but sort of dances with the bright yellow on the spider’s back.
I’ve also been busy (and delightfully enchanted) with the farmer’s market. I love the time with my mom. I also enjoy meeting new people and seeing now-familiar faces. I have quite an inventory of pins building up and a few dolls to choose from, so I think it’s going well. The little doll house was a hit with the children and with a few adults as well! We were asked it if was for sale, but I made it especially for my mom, so maybe I can make one or two more in the future to sell. We’ll see. It was so much fun to make, but I realize I’m already at my limit as far as things to do. At any rate, don’t my mom’s little clothespin dolls look so sweet in their new home?
Finally (and I’m not sure why this picture is so faded on one end) I’ve slightly rearranged my living room (uh-gain). I had to. I found an extremely sturdy, real-wood bookcase at Goodwill. Upon being put in its new place in my “pink room,” it was immediately filled with books. I asked my husband, “Can you believe there were this many books floating around the house without a home?” Without giving it a moment’s thought, he said, “Yeah!” Hmmmm. I say one can never have too many books. I have to work today, so I better close for now. I hope that my weeks can begin to slow down a bit now and I can focus on school and getting everything ready for that. Enjoy this day!
Yesterday evening I walked outside and saw a beautiful cloud. The tip-top was full of the last bit of the day’s sun. It would soon be dark. So many thoughts went through my mind. How the light filled the cloud with a beauty that it wouldn’t otherwise have had (though clouds have their own beauty anyway). How there are some people I know who are in their last years of life and their beautiful spirits have come to the top and show that what they’ve lived for is truly worth it. How it would soon be dark and there was hope for a new day in just a few short hours.
Life really does pass quickly. The older I get, the faster it goes.
I have found myself more determined lately to have a joyful spirit. There are some very specific reasons why, which I can hopefully share later. For now, today is a work day and I’m just peeping in to wish everyone a good day!
Creatures. Sigh. On my little garden walk this morning I noticed this clear-winged sphinx moth sitting on the basil. They remind one of a hummingbird the way they move through the air.
This pearl crescent was visiting the butterfly bush.
I had nearly let the walkway disappear! The garden needs tons and tons of work. We won’t even think about it today. I’ll focus on how happy I was in the garden this morning to see my stepping stones again. Lots more weeding to do, but it’ll be there next week. I hope you have a lovely day!
It’s something I don’t have much of these days. Life feels overwhelming at times with things that must be done. As children get older, but aren’t quite independent yet, it takes a lot of driving around, emotional input and consulting to keep them on track and to get them where they need to be. There’s never enough money, and I hear that from those on the lower end of things to those making what looks to be plenty. It’s expensive to live, drive, eat, shower, stay cool…whatever, these days. It is in all of this chaos that I take such pleasure in little moments of simplicity. And this is coming from someone who thrives on clutter and can’t seem to get settled without tons of framed pictures, varied tins full of old keys and springs and things, baskets filled with children’s books and Victoria magazines, and doll house miniatures sitting all over!
In my “pink room,” the room with pink curtains, a teacup wall paper border, and my favorite purple chair, I like to always keep things clean and (relatively) simple. I sit in my purple chair lately and let my eyes rest on my mosaic table and the very old painted crock full of roses and red.
I let my mind wander to art projects that I need to finish, school planning that must be done — and soon! — and sometimes I just let my mind go blank. Ahhhhh. Today’s a work day, so I’m scooting over to the work desk now. Here’s to a little spot where the eye can rest and the mind can let go of a few things everything.
Just popping in for a quick hello this morning afternoon. My how the time flies when we’re having fun!
I’ve been working on pins all week. And enjoying life with four kids, my own Wild Kingdom, of sorts, and continuous housework. It’s a wonder I have a mind left at all.
Figure into all of this that in the background of things this week, my van began to make a faint screeching, clicking, whining, scraping sound on and off. I was so tempted to call Click and Clack to find out what they thought, but then today I found out on my own. On the road. I was out running errands before work and the belt that apparently winds around the alternator and does something for the power steering came loose completely. It’s like the clouds opened and a bright light shone down on my van engine. It went back to sounding like a finely tuned machine, just as my power steering went out and I had to wheel up into the bank parking lot looking like a driver from the 1940s, pulling on that steering wheel with all my might to make the turn. Thank goodness I still have some tone left in my upper, 40-something-year-old arms.
I called the carpenter man and he showed up to make arrangements for the van to go to the shop and me to go home. And hopefully it won’t cost but a couple of hundred to fix it. I’ve been driving all week wondering what in the world was wrong, how bad it would be, and how much it would cost. Let’s keep our fingers crossed today that all ends well, because I want to need to see my mom in the morning at the farmer’s market.
Then, I’ve been lamenting over not having enough creatures in the garden when I noticed this morning that droves of them are building right near the front door. How convenient for a certain creature-picture-taker I know, who now only has to crack the front door to get creature pictures. Don’t tell the carpenter man about this.
I hate to tear apart a community, but I suppose I’ll have to remove both freshly constructed homes and take them away from here. They should be happy. It beats the carpenter’s Raid. May you have a blissfully chaos-free day. Lynn Well, club members, it’s that time again. Time for another of my fabulous hit songs from the mid 1970s. The songs just keep getting better and better. So grab your mop or broom or coffee cup or dust rag (or whatever it is you hold in your hand while you stand and stare) and get ready to sing!
Whoaaaa, is that a club song, or WHAT? And not only is it your choice what you hold while you stand and stare, but you get to choose what you want out of life, and out of your club president. Do you want saugar canes or honey? Knowing how my presidential mind worked way back then, I’m not sure I choose saugar canes. It might be safer for you if you just go with honey.
In other club news, I have chosen our membership chairman. Yes, dear friends, it is Annie, a.k.a. Fatso Beagle, the love of my midlife crisis. I noticed the other day that she is really good at standing and staring. Yes, here she is holding onto her knotted up sock, staring at the ceiling.
I zoomed in to give you a closer look. As you can see, she is not looking at me, and there’s no one else in the room, I promise. She is totally focused on the ceiling. What she saw up there is up for grabs. I know I look very much the same way when I am trying to decide something important, i.e., whether or not to move a large metal blanket cabinet down the stairs for the dozenth time, and trade it for a sewing desk (insert heavy object of your choice here) which will be dragged upstairs for the dozenth time. No wonder my children hide under their beds when I look like that. Oh dear. I have wandered off topic again. Yes, it happens frequently these days. I was telling a dear friend just the other day that I am much like an ameoba lately. Room for only one thought at a time, I’m afraid. If only I were like a certain carpenter man I know, who really made me laugh (hysterically) the other day when he said he had enough gray matter to run a power plant. I think men just say things like that whether it’s true or not. Just sayin. So back to WHY Annie will be the membership chairman. I have made a very keen observation. She does not bark at everyone. Only some people. Some people she does not bark at and some people she does. (How’s that for saying something forward and backward?) Anyhoo, I got to thinkin’ that maybe she’s barking at people who are not real good at standing and staring. In fact, it seems highly likely that this is the case. So far, the people she has barked at (relentlessly) are people who strike me as not being very good at standing and staring at all! Are you getting a picture of how the membership process will work? Well, that’s all for club news for now. Let’s talk about creatures.
I wish this picture had turned out clearer, but basically I had to lie down on the ground with the camera almost in the wet dirt to get this. The web is nearly horizontal and the spider was on the ground side of the web. It was just such a pretty sight after the rain, I had to share it with you.
I love these little green creatures you can see on the tansy. I’m not sure what they are, but they are here every year. They can really hide well on plants that are colored just like they are. They sometimes jump on my arms when I bushwhack my way through the garden. And speaking of that, I have more chores to do than can be done. Makes me want to just sit down and do something mindless, but I’m afraid of what carpenter man will say when the lady banks and trumpet vine finally grows up around the doors and windows so that we cannot exit or enter the house, and what he might do if there’s nothing for supper except cereal and cucumbers (again). Enjoy this day! It’s bright and sunny here and we got buckets of rain last night.
Life is still in high gear here. I must work today. In fact, I must log into the time system by noon, giving me exactly 11 minutes! I have done my week’s worth of grocery shopping this morning. In the heat. I am tired. Still gotta type for 8 hours. I’m trying really hard these days to use my time in my work chair thinking and dreaming of things I love. Well, uh, I still focus on the notes I’m typing, but it is possible to have one wheel turning in the MT direction and another turning in the farmer’s market direction. Sometimes the wheels work even better that way!
I don’t have time to take pictures this morning, or even edit anything from the camera, so I chose a random picture from a July gone by. It’s a couple of years ago when I was out harvesting the sage. I don’t even have any sage this year! May you have a productive day!
I’m in the mood to tell a family story this morning. Maybe it’s because of this emotional transition I’ve been through lately. It has to do with a family name and a memory of a story told to me by a favorite great-uncle. (I had a few favorite great-aunts and -uncles!) Yesterday I did some more cleaning and purging, loading up four more bags of outgrown clothes and shoes to take to Goodwill. Though I may have missed a few cobwebs, I did some organization and deep cleaning, and I’m very happy with the result. I’m also happy to know in my heart that I’ll never truly be a minimalist. That’s not to say that I have anything against those who are. One of my best friends has a very clean and open living space, and I think she leans more towards minimalism. I tell her every time I’m there that I want that openness and peaceful feeling that she has in her home. She knows who she is.
I had a great-uncle named Roy Shepherd. I loved him and I loved his name. Shepherd was his middle name, not his last name. He was a good man and a good influence on me, and when it was time to name my firstborn son, I couldn’t think of anything prettier than Daniel Shepherd. The only problem turned out to be that my great-aunt was a little forgetful at that point and she spelled the name Shephard with an A. So I now have a Daniel Shephard. But that’s okay. It still evokes for me a mental picture of a shepherd and my beloved Great Uncle Roy.
The more I studied the family history, the more I loved this name Shepherd. I came to find out that my Uncle Roy was named after his Uncle Stacy Shepherd. Oh my, another beautiful name! And this Stacy was quite the cutie (I have a picture of him now) and they called him “Stace.”
As I studied more, I was told an even sweeter story. My great-great-uncle Stace had 8 siblings. There was Robert Franklin, Evander Jones (my great grandfather), John Kirkland, William Abner, Artemis, Oscar Thadeus, Jerome Corbett (Romie), and one girl, Julie Elizabeth (Lizzie–and she was a doll!). According to the story, their mother, Foster (yes that was her name), was having a hard time delivering Uncle Stace. The doctor was sent for and apparently was figured to be what saved the day. The doctor’s name? Dr. Sheppard.
Great-great-uncle Stace was named after the doctor who delivered him. As I studied more, lo and behold, I uncovered a census a few years back, and there on the list, four houses away from Charlie and Foster (however far that might have been), was Dr. Sheppard’s name. It gave me chills. I also noticed that the name had changed from Sheppard to Shepherd, and I always wondered how that came about. Did Charlie and Foster take their spelling from the bible? Did they just spell it the way they knew? Whatever the reason, it always made me feel less bad that I, once again, had altered the spelling of this beautiful family name.
I don’t like to think that all of these people are long gone, but I dearly love beyond words the family photos that are left behind and the gatherings that occur yearly to trade family stories and share more pictures and artifacts that have been uncovered. I love the traits (most of them!) that I see of these men in my own sons.
Uncle Roy told me a little story one time and I wrote it in my bible. That was 23 years ago. It’s called Each A Place.
Each A Place God gives us each a place to fill.
I’ve often thought of that story, especially when I look at the old picture hanging above of the old Thomas homeplace and those pictured in front of it: my great-great-uncle Stace, my great-great-grandmother Foster, my great-great-grandfather Charlie, Stace’s wife Irene who (very sadly) died young, my great-great-aunt Lizze, and my great-great-uncle Romie. It’s been good this morning to think again about having a place.
I’m lost. Wandering around in my own head. Trying to figure out who I am, who I was, who I want to be, and if I’ve just been tricked all this time into thinking that I like clutter when I really don’t.
I’ve been reading stories on this blog: Becoming Minimalist. You need to go to the tab at the top that says Share Your Story, and you will see a list of stories as to why people became minimalist. I started reading. I felt so free as I read the stories. It sounded so liberating and like the thing to do. I was compelled to declutter. Coffee cup in hand, I began walking through the house, mentally tagging things to get rid of. Not much was tag-able. Within moments I was overwhelmed. Time for a nap.
Okay. I mean, I can clean out, and I did that recently for the big yard sale, and I currently have a van load of stuff to go to Goodwill, but I’m having a really hard time deciding just how much decluttering I want to do.
I think of how my old farm house must have looked when it was first built in 1921. Just how much ”stuff” did the people have? They had things that were useful, for sure. Farm implements. Things for the kitchen. The closets are small, so I know they did not have a lot of clothing and “junk.” I sometimes think I want this house to look “authentic.” What if I cut back to what would have been here in 1921? The rooms would be sparse. The big windows would look even bigger. There would be places for the eyes to rest. But that’s insane. I don’t live in 1921. And I require a large desk with a computer, router, modem, endless wires, blah blah blah, to work. I know they did not have an office with computers in it — one for school, one for work, and so on. Their kids didn’t have ipods and game systems and huge backpacks and silly bands and skateboards. There was no A.C. Moore to clog up women’s brains and turn them all into the artists that they truly were all along. So why am I even thinking like that? I am back to square one. Who am I, really? Let’s get psychological. Maybe it’s a sign of something deeper, like feeling I need more control over my time and my life and my children that are growing up all of a sudden and my “baby years” are totally gone. Maybe that’s it. Maybe I feel like if I can just get my house in perfect, peaceful, clutter-free order, I will have order everywhere else. Ahh. I think we might be onto something.
I think back to when the children were little. (I believe you can click on this picture to see closer up; you’ll probably just have to press the back button to come back here.) We were visiting friends. I was holding “baby John” who drank a bottle until he was about 5. (I kept telling people to quit worrying, that he would not still be drinking a bottle at 16. He’s 16 now and I was right. So there. And he has straight teeth. And no cavities. Just one of his front teeth was broken in half where Michaela hit him in the mouth. I digress.) Joseph had just sprayed Daniel in the face with a water gun about the time everyone was supposed to say “cheeeeeese.” My best friend’s son and daughter were looking on. It was sweet. Anyway, I don’t think I was having a minimalist breakdown back then. I was focused on keeping children from sticking things in electrical outlets, childproofing cabinet doors, and trying to get a few minutes alone in the bathroom without a child finding me and asking did I want to play Monopoly or something. I didn’t have the time to think about minimalism. So why am I thinking about it now? I think I am at more of an emotional transition than anything. I just want order and I’m finding it hard to keep up with the demands of trying to help a 22-year-old son and a 19-year-old son figure out their way through life when they’re not sure what they want to do yet, and a 16-year-old son who still has not signed up for driver’s ed and has a mile-long list of things to do and places to go, and homeschooling my 11-year-old tomboy of a girl who also has a mile-long list of places to go and things to do. I’m trying to balance a job and meals and I’m really feeling the pinch of knowing that the “formative years” are all but gone and yet there’s more real work that needs to be done. Don’t get me wrong. I love my chldren and I am proud of them all. I wouldn’t trade them. Now. Add to all of that the fact that I love to craft and paint and I never finish a project in one sitting and my house is not big enough for a craft room, so it seems like everything is always “out.” Nothing ever seems put away anymore. And we won’t even talk about 11 rabbits, a housecat with a brain injury and a beagle who is afraid to go outside and wet. I’m basically just rambling here – UH-GAN — and realizing that my need to find order is probably just a way to deal with where I am in life emotionally. I’ve heard women say when they were at “my stage” in life that they would like to be dropped off on a deserted island for awhile. I think I’m trying to turn my house into that deserted island. It ain’t gonna happen.
I’m just trying to make my way down this path I’m on, with the Village of Victorianism on one hand and the Village of Minimalism on the other, and I think I really do like it best in the Village of Victorianism. I like lacy curtains, stacks of magazine, tons of old books, pictures tacked to every square inch of the wall. And I think I’ll craft with wild abandon even yet. The children can just step around the blobs of polymer clay and containers of string and the half-done canvases. After all, I’ve sure dodged enough water guns and stepped on enough Legos. I’ll just keep straightening and cleaning out from time to time and trying to get control of the “hot spots.” I’ll take what I need from the minimalist frame of mind and enjoy the clutter I have in the meantime. I’m just too tired to try to become something I’m not at this point in life. My poor mom knows what a packrat of a child I was, but I have enough of her in me to keep my clutter organized. Maybe I’ll start my own movement. The organized clutter movement. And anyway, The Standing and Staring Club would be null and void if I got rid of everything. Whew!! I’m glad I’ve got that settled!
|
I am a 40-something-year-old mother of four delightful children, have been married for 22 years to my carpenter husband, and live in a 1921 farm-style house. I find the most joy in my garden, growing and harvesting herbs and flowers and caring for our pet rabbits. I have a 21-year-old son, a 19-year-old son, a 16-year-old son, and a bright and bubbly (and very funny) 11-year-old daughter who is homeschooled. I'm a North Carolina girl and I love sharing North Carolina links and information. I'm a book lover, bird lover, gardener and aspiring herbalist. I seek no help for my thrift store addiction. I do medical transcription from home part-time.
To live content with small means; to seek elegance rather than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion; to be worthy, not respectable, and wealthy, not rich; to study hard, think quietly, talk gently, act frankly; to listen to stars and birds, to babes and sages, with open heart; to bear all cheerfully, do all bravely, await occasions, hurry never. In a word, to let the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious, grow up through the common. This is to be my symphony.
I would
|
||
|
Copyright © 2010 A Mother’s Journal - All Rights Reserved |
|||
I think it’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. There I am in the kitchen, washing dishes, peeking out from under a bonnet. Just look at the order in the kitchen! And that lovely chandelier! If only I had myself as together as she sees me. 
for you to leave a comment, but you can also e-mail me at lynn AT thehealthyhomeschool.com
