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.
The Spymistress by Jennifer Chiaverini
Probably, this is one of those times where I really should have read the dust jacket before I read the book.
But, since I hate spoiling the story, I glanced at the synopsis, read the first page, thought, “I like the Civil War,” and dove right in. Had I read a bit more I might have realized I was reading about an actual historical figure which would have been good to know. Apparently my book selection method only works most of the time…
Would I recommend it? I’m glad that I read it, but I don’t feel that I can unequivocally say you should too. I was, however, fascinated to find that Elizabeth Van Lew was a real person, something that also explains the serious amount historical facts the book contained. It’s possible if you dove in thinking “fictionalized biography” rather than “novel” you’d enjoy it much more. Or, it’s possible that I should read, just a bit, about a book before I start in myself!
In Michigan…
“Well, I guess in Michigan they have really big cats and lots of snow.” Ivy stated as we drove to meet my Uncle for an afternoon of skiing and sledding.
John and I agreed. It was undeniably true that the house cats we had seen since arriving in Michigan were huge (I think one of them is actually part mountain lion) and the snow was impressively deep.
While I’ve no photo evidence to show you that the cats were at least three times the size of ours (and part mountain lion), I did bring the camera out into the snow.
After an entire afternoon of skiing and sledding followed by a delicious dinner, we headed back out into the snow for a fire and s’mores.
Soon after Uncle Jim joined us around the fire, Ivy calmly walked over to me, tugged on my jacket and said, “Can I whisper something to you?”
“Mom, why is Uncle Jim wearing a skirt?”
In Michigan, they have really big cats, lots of snow and they take perfectly good Finnish candles, call them Scottish Cabers and then stand around them in their kilts.
Alright, to be fair to the rest of Michigan, I’m pretty sure it’s just my uncle that does that.
But we are so grateful that he keeps putting our animals back together when they break that we’ll still admit to being related.
No worries we didn’t bring any really broken animals with us this time. Just some veterinary maintenance that Clara presided over.
All in all it was a great trip, even the drive (two adults, three kids, two dogs, two cats through Chicago) wasn’t too bad.
Noisy- but not bad!
Black and White Sunday: Back Home
After a weekend visit to Uncle Jim (our favorite veterinarian cat spaying uncle, but more on all that later) Cassie is happy to be back home in front of the fire.
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This Moment – Fishing with Aunt Marcia
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.
Picture by Ivy!
Weekly Photo Challenge: Threes
Weekly Photo Challenge: Threes
This weeks photo challenge was to use three pictures to tell a story. So, as proof that we have gotten outside to play, even in the frigid weather I give you – Driveway Sledding!
We’ve yet to find another path down the hill that works as well as the driveway for sledding – we’ve got an apple tree obstacle problem everywhere else.
These pictures were taken a few weeks ago, if the girls were playing on today I’d have to title my pictures Driveway Luge or Perhaps Driveway Skeleton. I’ve needed multiple runs to get up the driveway if I’m not in 4-wheel drive and while spreading ashes from the wood-stove on it this afternoon all I had to do was balance and shake my bucket as I slowly slid down! To say it’s a bit icy would be an understatement!
Confetti
Do you ever having trouble conveying the bigger picture?
That’s the sort of trouble I’m having with Clara and if I don’t figure out how to get the message across our house will be filled with confetti.
You see when she cuts things into teeny tiny pieces with scissors and I say, “Don’t cut things into teeny tiny pieces with scissors”, the next day – she cuts things into teeny tiny pieces with scissors.
To her credit (?) she has yet to cut the same kind of thing into teeny tiny pieces. Only once have we cut up, a bracelet, a flower, a list, a note, a picture Ivy drew or, most memorable, a nightgown that her little sister was wearing.
No matter the item or my response I get the same reaction from her every time, it goes something like this…
Me: Clara, what are all these little red things?
Clara: Oh that was just your ribbon from your chocolate.
Me: But Clara, I was going to keep the ribbon and and use it for something else.
Clara: Oh.
Me: Clara, you need to ask before you cut something up!
Clara: Sorry, Mom.
I walk off irritated and a few moments later Clara shows up with a small pitying smile on her face and a hug for me as she says,
Next time I won’t, Mom. Next time Dad gives you chocolates for Valentines day and they have a red ribbon I won’t cut it up, OK!
She gives me a hug and another smile and a look as if to say, “I don’t know why it matters so much but I’ll humor you and promise never to do it again if it makes you feel better but it’s really sad for you that you have nothing better to worry about.”
And she won’t.
I’m sure that the next time John gives me chocolates on Valentines day that are wrapped with a red ribbon she won’t cut it into pieces without asking. And the next time Jane is wearing a monkey nightgown she won’t try to cut a dress for her doll out of it.
But if the ribbon is blue and the nightgown has horses…
Confetti.
The Boys in the Boat by Daniel James Brown
Sometimes people will ask me for a book recommendation and I will offer a few ideas.
Sometimes I read a book I like so much that I assault, friends, family and random strangers at the chiropractor’s office with my recommendation.
This was one of the latter.
I will admit that with the guy on the far right as my dad,
and the woman third from the bottom as my mom, 
and both being preceded by Gramps, 
that it’s quite likely I was inundated with so much rowing talk as a child that I couldn’t help but like this book.
Oh and so long as we are sharing pictures, I thought you should know that those people who raised me, they were pretty good too…
The Boys in the Boat, you should probably just go find it now before I corner you in the grocery store and talk your ear off about it!
Did I Just Say What I Thought I Said? X
It’s the tenth edition of “Did I Just Say What I Thought I Said?” in which I share phrases that I never thought:
A) Would ever need to be said in the first place,
B) that I would need to be the one to say them and
C) that I wouldn’t just be saying them, I’d be yelling them.
I was driving home in the dark, two of the three kids in the back were asleep when Jane asked me to, “Take it Mom… Take it!” This is a normal car request and so I did that awful arm contortion that is necessary to reach a child that is buckled into a car seat directly behind you yet still keep your eyes on the road – and held out my hand.
And that’s when I asked a question I wish I had never had to ask.
Did you just give me throw up?
She’s awful cute when she’s not wiping vomit into your hand.
Judging by her answer, the slime she oozed from her hot little hand to mine and the smell… yes.
And that’s when for the first time in a long time I was happy to still have a girl in diapers. A girl in diapers travels with diapers and baby wipes!
Honesty and Chocolate Cake
At this moment in time I think it’s quite possible that Jane is too honest for her own good.
I was making a chocolate cake for a friend’s birthday when Jane piped up, ” I help you?” Fellow chocoholic that I am, I knew that “help” did not in this instance mean that she wanted to actually help. But rather, “Hey mom I’d like to sit on that stool and eat all the chocolate that you’ll let me.” Sympathetic to her plea, I set her up on a stool and gave her a frosting beater to lick. But soon she was eyeing what I was doing.
I’m not going to lie, what I was doing was both interesting and delicious. I was in the final stages of assembling the Chocolate Quake Cake from Sprinkle Bakes. After baking the cake and making the frosting, you’ll have used three(!) full cups of cocoa powder. In making the chocolatey wonder, first you stack and frost two layers like any normal cake but then a third layer is cut up into random chunks and stuck it all over the entire thing. Sounds crazy, tastes awesome. I highly recommend it!
But, back to the kitchen. Jane’s stool is at the counter, just out of reach of the stove where I am working. (Not a coincidence.) Jane turns her chocolate covered face and sees the giant pile of cake chunks I’ve made, drops her frosting beater and asks if I’ll scoot her stool closer. Now I know all she wants is to get within arms reach of the pile of cake chunks which I’ve already started sticking on the cake as fast as I can. But I ask anyway. “Jane are you going to snitch my cake if I scoot you closer?” And she, honest girl that she is, says “YEAH!” and I explain (still frantically sticking on pieces) that this cake is for our friend and we can’t eat it yet because we are going to give it to her for her birthday. But if she can just lick her frosting beater and hold on, perhaps I’ll have a few leftovers at the end.
Jane is two. This schpeal of mine results in nothing but the full on hysterical cry of the deprived child – for at least five seconds – before she sniffs, sobers and asks politely if I’ll move her stool closer. “If I move your stool closer what will you do?” “EAT CAKE!” Again, we go through it, nope, can’t eat this cake, short hysterical crying, sobering, sniffles, polite asking. “Sure, I’ll move your stool but you can’t touch the cake.” “I NEED CAKE!” And while I completely understand the sentiment, I repeated that we couldn’t eat this cake – yet. Again with the crying. Again the polite asking. Again the refusal. And again, and again.
Let me tell you, I have made this cake before and I don’t remember it taking near so long to stick all those little chunks on top last time.
Eventually, I covered the cake, we called in the sisters, had a mini chocolate cake feast with the leftovers and life was good.
You know, I appreciate her honesty, I love that she asks politely even in the middle of a tantrum and I hope she keeps those wonderful qualities for life. But I just gotta think it would have been easier on us both had she just snitched a piece of cake without saying anything.
Today I’m linking up with Manic Mondays where Perfection Pending and others share parenting stories. Not to complain, of course, but to share the crazy!
Behind the Willows 