Take off at a run toward the highest egg you can see.
Stop at the bottom of the tree. Carefully hang your (optimistically sized) bag on a convenient branch.
Climb tree.
Grab Egg.
Climb back down as you place your new egg in your giant bag.
Repeat. 
Come to the sad realization that while you’ve got the best climbing style around, you’re never going to fill that bag.
Start with enthusiasm.
Have serious trouble finding eggs and consider letting your over-tired, over-sugared, three year old self start to whine about it.
Then when your Dad steps in to announce, “I can see three eggs from here and I’m color blind!” enlist his help in your egg hunt.
And finally, fill your basket Frozen bag…
… with eggs!
Give in to the crazy whims of the horde of adults enthusiastically telling you to pick up the egg on the ground.
Wonder what you should do with it.
Consider snuggling with it.
Consider putting it in the bag.
SMASH the egg into the bag with enthusiasm!
Repeat until your bag is full of nicely cracked eggs to take home.
Jonas is, of course, my super cute nephew who came to visit for the weekend. He was even nice enough to bring his mom and dad down for a visit too!
Not this kitten on the keys…
… but rather this kitten…
…on my laptop keys.
Fiona, amazing cat that she is, can turn off the keyboard just by sitting on it.
Unfortunately, mere mortal human that I am, the same technique did not work for me to turn it back on.
It took many more tries, using fancy things like fingers – applied with a minor knowledge of computers, mixed with creative mouse work and finally the keyboard works again! 
And so, sadly, after all that, Easter egg hunting photos will have to wait for another day.
A Friday ritual.
A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week.
A simple, special, extraordinary moment.
A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
4,377 pages.
That was a number large enough, and out of context enough, as to be almost meaningless – until this morning. Now, I can tell you what 4,377 pages means.
4,377 pages means that if you think that the book you’ve been staying up too late reading can probably just be finished quickly because you are 77% of the way through – you are wrong.
4,377 pages means that even if it’s spring break and you can hear the kids happily playing upstairs, giving you no pressing need to get out of bed, you should not give in to the desire to know what happens next.
And 4,377 pages means that when you do finish it, because of course you will – it’s the dramatic conclusion, you will still be in the kitchen looking for your first cup of tea when there is a knock at the door. And even though you were expecting your friend, it will still be a little bit shocking.
FYI 4,377 pages on my Kindle app is a 364 page book. Had I been holding a paper copy I would have known that it’d be best not to finish the last 84 pages of a book before I brushed my teeth when company was on the way.
Thankfully, she’s a good friend.
Would I recommend it? When you read it, plan in some time for that ending. After all, if you consider that the story needs to wrap up a mass murdering assassin, a device that’s not quite within the realm of normal, which is being sought out by high ranking government intelligence, and two authors that have become mixed up in it all, 997 pages seems pretty minimal.
Extra thanks to Barb Taub (She’s a recurring theme lately, have you noticed that? Do you follow her blog yet?) for reviewing the book and to Eric J. Gates for hosting a giveaway with her.
While I did receive this book for free in the giveaway, this honest review was given just because I liked it!
Children are masters at wrecking stuff.
I’m not even talking about their mothers’ bodies, peace of mind or plans for Friday night. I’m just, shallowly, talking about stuff.
Stuff like potted plants, picture frames, yoga mats and painted walls. Stuff like chapstick tubes, favorite coffee mugs, screen doors and brown sugar bears. Stuff like glasses, bowls, plates and your favorite figurine you’ve had since you were a kid.
If you’ve got it, they can wreck it.
And three year olds? Three year olds are wreckin’ it masters.
When Clara was three, John named her The Anarchist.
The universe, finding us cute in our naivety, sent us Jane.
Jane, Anarchist 2.0, puts Clara’s attempts to shame.
Or, *sigh* to be perfectly honest, it’s that with Jane, the third child, came a reduction of her mother’s brain cells. Leaving her poor mother with a memory and attention span that not even a goldfish would envy.
Sadly, that’d be me.
I routinely get distracted somewhere between “Why has Jane been so quiet for the last ten minutes?” and “I better go check on her.” This gives Anarchist 2.0 more than enough time to ply her skills around, say, the bathroom while she, could possibly, empty all the lotion, conditioner, shampoo and stick the band-aids to the toilet, hypothetically of course…
So, if you come to visit and you wonder why we use mason jars as glasses, have band-aids stuck to odd items and finger holes in the screen door. Just remember, an anarchist and a goldfish mom are not a pretty combination, you might want to save yourself while you still can. 
Heaven knows I won’t remember to warn you about the slippery bathroom floor!
Harric is a good guy.
He saves damsels in distress because it’s the right thing to do. (And also, he likes girls.)
He’s joined up with folks who are off to save the land from evil. (But he needed to get out of town quick anyway.)
He keeps in contact with his mother. (Unfortunately she’s dead and working hard to kill him too.)
He thinks carefully about making the right decisions. (Except for those highly questionable situations that he dives headlong into.)
And he works hard selling his wares. (While he fleeces unsuspecting persons out of any money he can.)
I always like a book with a good guy don’t you?
Would I recommend it? This is far more than just a fantasy book with a good guy. It’s full of new worlds and magics, culture clashes and ideals, angry immortals and horses (it never hurts to have good horses)… it’s epic fantasy! I finished it, promptly took the book my husband was reading away and put this in his hands instead. If you’re a fantasy lover put this next on your list!
I’d also like to recommend popping over and reading Barb Taub’s book review and interview with the author but, unfortunately, it’s titled: “Don’t read this review…Go straight out and buy 5-star epic fantasy The Jack of Souls”
I feel that leaves you with two options:
Follow her advice and go buy the book.
Or, if you are one of those people who is terrible at doing what you are told, read it anyway, realize that she was right, and go buy the book. (That was me.)
But really, the choice is yours.
We woke to a brief and beautiful return of winter. 
Four inches of the first, perfectly packable, snowman-making snow we’ve had this winter.
Of course I had to ask my biggest Frozen fan “Do you want to build a snowman?”
And she said “No. You build it, I will smash it down.”
Obliging mother that I am, I built her a snowman as she waited, fat bat at the ready, to smash it down.
And when there was nothing left but the original ball of snow, her sister took the bat, turned it around and ran the snowman through.
I think my girls might be ready for spring.
A Friday ritual.
A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week.
A simple, special, extraordinary moment.
A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
Behind the Willows 