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. 
All Is Not Right With the World
All is not right with the world.
I know this must be so because today I realized that it is December 11th and I have not read a single book in December.
Not even part of a book.
I…
I…
This me not reading thing is so odd I don’t even know what to say about it.
I do, however, know what to do about it.
I have already picked Assassin’s Apprentice by Robin Hobb back off the bookshelf for a re-read. I’m two chapters in and I can practically feel the universe coming back into order.
Then, I’m going to ask all you lovely people what I should read next.
I’ll take those suggestions straight to my inter-library loan website and I’m sure by this time tomorrow the world will be right again.
Now excuse me, I’m off to see what Fitz does next…
It’s Snowing!
“It’s snowing!” I tell my girls.
But that’s not what I want to tell them. I want to let them know that snow is sifting down from the sky as if the whole world is being sprinkled with powdered sugar.
But no child of mine is going to sit through that lengthy explanation after the word snow has been uttered.
“Look at snow now!” I tell my girls.
But what I want to say is, now it’s changed. It’s no longer sifting from the sky in tiny particles. Instead real flakes are drifting down from above, while every touch of the wind blows them this way and that in the world biggest ballet.
But that’s far to cheesy to say aloud, even if it is true.
“It’s like it’s snowing!” I say today.
But it’s not snowing. Yesterdays fluffy snow is blowing off the tree branches in showers of glitter in the sunlight. And as far as I know, even though I was covered head to toe in snow that fell on me, there is no name for that kind of snow fall.
“It’s not really snowing.” I say this afternoon.
No, it’s no longer snowing, not even from the trees. Now the snow is now tiny pellets blowing from the ground in windy bursts that sting the face. I suppose one could say it is “drifting” but he ferocity of it all it makes that seem too kind a word for it.
“It’s snowing!”what a ridiculously, inadequate phrase.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Let There Be Light!
Weekly Photo Challenge: Let There Be Light!
In short:
I love Christmas lights.
I hate printers.
Any epic battle has been raging between the printer and I this evening. I would like to print my Christmas letter and address labels. The printer would like to save everything as an .xps document.
The printer is winning.
If you know about printers that are only acting as savers feel free to throw some advice my way!
Easy Peasy
Clara: “MOM!”
Me: “Yes?”
Clara: “Mom, where is that duster thingy.”
Me: “In the pantry behind the bag we put paper in.”
Clara: “Where?”
Me: Walking over and pointing,”Behind that bag.”
Clara: “This bag?”
Me: “Yup.”
Clara: “Oh there it is… That was easy peasy!”
I think that I should take Clara’s “Easy Peasy” scale and apply it to the rest of my days. Personally, I would have judged that interaction a bit higher on the difficulty rating, but now that I know that was “easy peasy” I’m sure it will put my whole life in better perspective.
Three Trees and a Hay Bale
I haven’t yet managed to capture the essence of a perfect cold, still, frosty morning, but I’m working on it.
This was taken at my Grandparents farm over the Thanksgiving weekend on just such a morning. The woods were a dark, bluish, haze until the sun came out and turned everything to diamonds.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Unexpected
Weekly Photo Challenge: Unexpected
We just discovered an unexpected perk to the greenhouse.
It’s the perfect place to process deer.
I have helped turn an ugly carcass into nice little white packages to put into the freezer in many dark basements. I have boned shoulders in very cold garages. And I have even attempted not to make a mess of a few kitchens while completing the final packaging.
But until today I have never, ever done any of it in the sunlight.
Possibly only those of you who have stood on the solid block of ice that is masquerading as a cement floor, tried not to lose a finger as you felt your way though the process in the dim light or ran buckets of water back and forth from the house, inevitably spilling some on your already frozen toes, can understand the luxury of it all. Plenty of counter space, hot running water, hooks in the ceiling for the gambrel, sunlight, and then when the sun when down and it got a bit chilly- a nice big heater to keep it above freezing.
Unexpected and delightful- I’m never setting up shop in the garage again!
Dinner
I look at the following picture and think- “Mmm, loins on the grill, meatloaf, pot roast, tacos, bacon wrapped tenderloin and a handsome man!”
It’s possible you may look at the picture and think- “Ick, dead deer and a guy dressed as a pumpkin.”
There’s no accounting for taste.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Layers
Weekly Photo Challenge: Layers
Hungry birds opened up this abandoned hornet nest exposing the many layers it was made of.
The Worst Word I Ever Unintentionally Taught My Children
The worst word I ever unintentionally taught my children has more than four letters and they are free to say in any kind of company.
The worst word I ever unintentionally taught my children often makes adults smile or laugh in that “aren’t they precocious” sort of of way.
However the worst word I ever unintentionally taught my children is also the word that takes cheerful noncompliance up to a level that has me running for the dark chocolate and Diet Coke.
A word that is sometimes amusing but more often frustrating.
A word that I wish I could have struck from my vocabulary before my children ever heard it.
“Actually”
As in:
Why is there Kleenex all over the floor?
Actually Mom, that’s my puppies bed.
As in:
Don’t forget to bring your plates to the sink when you are done eating.
Actually Mom, I have to go play now.
As in:
I think you should brush your hair this week.
Actually Mom, I like it like this.
As in:
Actually Mom, it’s green.
Actually Mom, I don’t like toast anymore.
Actually Mom, we need to go to the library.
Actually Mom, I was thinking we could have Culvers for dinner.
Actually Mom, Jane is messing up my stuff.
Actually Mom, this doesn’t taste good.
Actually Mom…
Actually Mom…
Actually Mom…
Now this week our youngest, who has been talking for awhile, looked at John, her face full of sincerity and said:
“Dad, actually…”
And I laughed so hard I cried. Or perhaps I cried so hard I laughed. Either way Clara was concerned for my well being. But I couldn’t explain the laughter or the tears to her.
I just couldn’t tell her that it was actually my fault that everyone says “actually.” That their overuse of the word “actually” was about to actually drive me insane and that I wasn’t actually sure what would happen to them if their mother was actually certifiably crazy. Worst of all I couldn’t admit to her that it is actually cute and funny half of the time to say it. I couldn’t do it, because I know what she would have said…
Actually Mom, Jane was just telling Dad that her pajamas aren’t stinky.
So I just laughed (or cried) and waved them all away and took small solace in the fact that “Dad, actually…” was at least slightly different form.
Until this morning when Jane said:
“Actually Mom…”
Behind the Willows 