My Dog

This dog LOVES ME...

He doesn't care about food
or going out or chasing rabbits or swimming.

Nope, this dog is crazy.
All this dog wants is ME rubbing his belly
or tossing a ball, Frisbee, stick, anything...
OR he wants me and he wants us to RUN...
OR he wants to JUMP on me and put
his big doggie paws on my shoulders so
that we are eye to eye trapped
in a hairy dance.

I have loved several dogs in my lifetime...
Duffer, Porky (aka Perky), Barney
Ladd, Slapshot, Paige, Ripley and
Robey but I'm pretty sure that
I've not been this loved by a dog before...

He thinks that I'm better than cheese
or bones or chicken.

Go figure...still, unadulterated adoration
is nice in whatever form. I'll take it.

Sweet Henry - Lessons in Light

Ah...light is everything in photography.
If you'll compare this Smilebox with my
first attempt a couple of weeks ago, you'll
certainly see what I mean. I am DELIGHTED
with these pictures and am so excited to
be able to share my garden in this neat way.

The title, "Sweet Henry" is for my Great-great Grandfather
Henry White, he played the violin. It's also the common
name for one of the plants in my garden.

I pray you enjoy these as much as I...

Make a Smilebox slideshow

Laundry Mountain - In Search of the Summit

I HATE laundry.

Regardless of varied attempts utilizing a myriad
of time management techniques,
I'm incapable of accomplishing all of it anytime, ever.
I am officially announcing that I am domestically disabled
in this area. I am making peace with the big, fat FACT
that I have laundroheimers (I keep forgetting to do it?).
Nah, I don't forget. I am continually doing it.
Or would it laundrophobia? Am I scared of it? I dunno.
No, I attack it vigorously...repeatedly, daily.
This disability needs a new name? Ideas?

For a while I blamed it on my equipment which
is not what is picture below...THANKFULLY.
My Grandmothers had these
and baked bread to boot! Can you see me with my finger
and thumb in the shape of an "L" on my forehead?

Nope...Jeri wants these babies...
One upstairs...one downstairs...thank you very much.
Yep, yes...YESSIREE...the laundry would get done then, right?


No, probably not...not even then...
So, here I am spending Saturday
sitting in between loads...blogging...
ascending laundry mountain...AGAIN...
the domestic equivalent of Everest.

If you're one of those women whose laundry is
clean and folded and stacked in pretty, little,
color-coordinated piles...well...what's it look like up there?

I'm imagining this? Am I close?

Another One...

WHO KNEW that boys could blog...so INCREDIBLY well.
This guy BLOWS my mind.
He's a creative professional, obviously, but still...
We HIGHLY recommend his blog...click here to visit Los.

I follow some fabulous blogs...

that also just happen to feature amazing photographers.
HOW did she get such PERFECT sunspots in this picture?
Click here to check her out...

Give Me Your Eyes...

Brandon Heath - Give Me Your Eyes from Brandon Heath on Vimeo.

Man, I LOVE this song. It's a prayer of my soul.

I will AWARD a cash prize...I promise!

We are (read I am) admittedly addicted to
Whole Foods Chunky Flaxseed Granola...SERIOUSLY addicted.

I need it to function.
It is currently in the same category as air and water.

I am DESPERATE...DESPERATE
for the nutritional information
on this product and if you can find it,
I WILL GIVE YOU MONEY.

Now, if you're one of those who may argue (I will smack you) that
if my darling chunky flaxseed granola is indeed
in the same category as air and water then why does the
nutritional information matter, really? After your smack, I would
respond with much emotion that it is because of my current
obsessive commitment (and I don't like talking about this)
to tracking every single, stinkin', freakin'
calorie that I put into my stinkin' body.

(sigh...because 3500 calories equals a pound...
sigh...and if you burn 3500 calories then you lose
a pound and the ONLY way to make SURE that
the loss happens is to...sigh...track what goes in (food)
and what your output is (exercise)...sigh...
OH...AND DO NOT attempt to lecture me about this
currently necessary habit OR tell me to relax. This
is the way that I've lost 50 pounds (30 to go). It's what's
works for me. Controlled healthy eating and
freakishly intense (that's another post) exercise. If
you're interested in an easy way to track checkout
fitday.com, I recommend it.)

I NEED the nutritional info on my granola...pluh-leeeese.
YES...I've already tried to get it myself. I really have.
Do you want the money or not? I'm so not kidding...

DuUUUUUde, I got it!

Isaac is lying in bed this morning...I thought he was still asleep.
I, myself, had just woke up. I flipped on the tv for the news
and then go to the bathroom which is just a short jaunt
down a short hall from the boys' bedroom (just don't ask
why we were ALL sleeping in there last night. I SAID don't!).
So...I'm still within hearing distance of the bedroom and
I hear not the news but stinkin' Dora the Explorer.

NOW, you probably fall in one of a few categories:
1) you and your children LOVE Dora.
2) you DESPISE Dora but your children worship her.
3) your entire family is quite over anything Dora (that's be us).
4) you're one of those families who don't ever let your kids watch tv
and don't even know who Dora is.

SO...back to my anti-climatic story
In the bathroom I hear Dora and Boots in a map segment...

Map, "I'm the map, I'm the map, I'm the map, I'm the map,
I'm the maaapP!"
Isaac apparently on the cusp of consciousness, "Ugh."
Map, "River, Valley, Big Blue Mountain"
Isaac with gusto, "UGH!"
Map, "River, Valley, Big Blue Mountain"
Isaac, "DuUUUUddde, I get it..."
Map, "River, Valley, Big Blue Mountain"
Isaac, "UGGGGGHHHHH!"
Map, "River, Valley, Big Blue Mountain"
Isaac, "Shut-up (a no-no word) already!"
Me, giggling in the bathroom, "Hey Isaac, where's Dora going?"
Me, "River, Valley, and (pause for increased tortuous effect)..."
Isaac, "MoOOOOM! UggGHHHH!"

Well...I laughed...and there's not a rule or anything about
blogging boring stuff.

I'm not EVEN kidding...

After a solid week of the stomach flu,
we got a 4 day reprieve and now
Eli has strep throat. Isaac is running a temp.
I'm not even kidding...I'm TOTALLY going to
jump out of my first floor-window...UGH!

So, I tell the 2nd-born, currently less-sick one
to STAY AWAY from his feeling super PUNK
older brother and I get the following comment.

"BUT, MOM, (sigh, eye-roll, pouty lip...the works)
You're breakin' my heart into tiny little pieces."

I repeat, UGH!

CALGON! Take me away! (Did I just totally date myself
to boot? If you don't remember that commercial...
don't EVEN talk to me...seriously...DON'T, not today anyways.)

Brownie Blue Toes

Mr. Merriam-Webster says...

Brownie - brown-ie, (brou'nee), n.

• elf: (folklore) fairies that are somewhat mischievous, who
  sometimes help with household chores, especially at night.
• a square or bar of very rich chocolate cake usually with nuts.

OR...our version

Brownie - brown-ie, (brou'nee), n.

• elf: (folklore) a blue-eyed, bratty, blue-toed fairy that is
  alotwhat mischievous who usually creates
  household chores, especially at night.
• squares or bars of very rich chocolate cake that momma
  bakes for her end-of-the-year party while you only
  get to lick the beater.
  

(If your VERY male, testosterone-driven, ALL FREAKIN' BOY
child sat stone-still for 1.5 hours while you both got to
have a pedicure from a nice Vietnamese Lady that thinks
your usually 100% handful son is the most intelligent,
well-behaved child on the planet...you'd TOTALLY
let him get his toes painted baby-blue with white
polka-dots too...yep...YES, you would. Trust me.
AND...NO, that's not poop on the carpet.)

The 4th Grade Wax Museum

So...the 4th Graders do this "wax" museum every year
where they choose a famous person, research their life,
prepare a speech, assemble a costume and then
dress up and give their speeches "wax" museum
style to the 1st-3rd grades. Eli picked Col. Eli Lilly.

Wonder why? Geez, that's a tough one.

His speech was simply fantastic and his delivery...superb.
The costume, HOWEVER, I found out about the day before
it was due. THE DAY BEFORE IT WAS DUE!
"Hey, mom...I need a civil war era costume (union)
by tomorrow...I forgot."

Momma say, WHAT?

Thank you, God, for the not-so-small-to-me miracle
of ONE union soldier hat hidden beneath an Indiana Jones Hat
on the shelf with a blue-million Gilligan Hats (weirdness).
The rest of his attire is coulrtesy of Wal-Mart.
The BIG-cheesy grin, well, that's just plain old genetics.
The 'stash is a "holla" out to paw...even though
Col. Lilly's portrait had him with one too.

ECC Spring Sing and Cake Create

-Annual ECC Tradition...Father & Son Cake Create.
Following in his brother's footsteps,
Isaac and Matt WON in the category of
best named cake acquiring Isaac's first "real" trophy.
His smile couldn't have been bigger.
Incidentally, Isaac and Matt won back in,
oh, I dunno...2003 for the best bible-themed cake
when they produced "He's Got the Whole World in His Hands".
I gotta find that picture...

"Wiki, Wiki, WORD."

Flower Garden...

The best place to seek God is in a garden.
You can dig for him there.
~George Bernard Shaw

Explain, staying in to blog when you have this
outside...forgive the overexposed shots...too
much light. I sorely need a macro lens (sigh).
I'll have to get outside in "beautiful" light.
These were shot at mid-day. Perhaps my ISO was too high.
Anyways...I like the sun on the trailing petunias.
They look like velvet. There's at least two shots
that I'm reasonably happy with
but you'll have to guess at those. I like the one of
Ripley's headstone. She always loved lying in shady
spots by hostas. We miss her.
Robey, on the other hand, is a flower SMELLER and
if it suits his big, wet, sniffy, boy-dog nose, he's a taster.
He reaks havoc in the dang basil.
Here's stab one at documenting our flower garden this year..
Who knew green thumbs sprouted curly-headed, blue-eyed boys....

Make a Smilebox slideshow

"Not Me Monday"

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by
MckMama. You can head over to her blog to read what
she and everyone else have not been doing this week.


The untold dangers of driving with your cell phone
and NOT TALKING on it...LABEL ME EXPLICIT!
THIS is your last warning.

This will be short...I will only share this only one time.
I will not respond to ANY questions...

IT WAS NOT ME who had her phone on vibrate
because she had been in a meeting. IT WAS NOT ME who made
a quick call while pulling out of the parking lot to check on kids.
It WAS ME who got off the cell-phone, IN THE CAR,
quickly, because she was driving. IT WAS NOT ME who
thought the best place for the phone was between my
knees so I could quickly free my hands. IT WAS NOT ME
who briefly forgot about where I had stored my cell phone
set to VIBRATE as I drove home. IT WAS NOT ME
who had to brake several times on the way home
each time scooting the cell-phone a little further
back from its starting location between my knees to its
final resting place between my...ahem..thighs. IT WAS NOT ME
who got quite a...uh, well...JAZZY little
shock a few minutes later...when (THANK GOD) it was her
husband who called and set sneaky cell-phone to
buzzing in a sensitive location. (Can you imagine if it had
been, oh, I dunno, the principal or the pastor or
something! I'd have died!) IT WAS NOT ME who nearly peed her
pants laughing (do you suppose that would have shorted the
phone? Would the warranty cover that you think?)
all the rest of the way home.

I mean, personally, between you and me...a kiss from my husband
and I'm all tingly but this was just a little
different. Matt, baby, you're so good!

I DID NOT post this. I WILL LIE and DENY
if you try to speak to me in person about this post.
My cell phone and I ARE NOT that close. It's over.
IT NEVER HAPPENED.



Hey, Matt? Honey, can you call me?

"He will LAUGH"...so will EVERYBODY else...

Old Mr. Bluest Eyes woke up this morning and
FIRST THING lived up to his name...

We chose his name partly for its meaning.
Isaac in Hebrew means, "He will laugh".
The bible story is that Isaac's mother, Sarah
laughed when messengers of God announced
to Abraham that they would finally have a son.
Apparently, given their advanced age and the
fact that she was barren, her doubt erupted
in the form of laughter. Ah, anyways...

Little did we know that our Isaac's name chosen
at birth would be a harbinger of his personality...

SO...back to this morning, FIRST THING. I mean
he STILL smelled all baby-sleepy and was rubbing his
eyes...curls awry all over his ridiculously round head...imagine...

This child goes to sleep and wakes up mid-speech.
He is a chatter-er, undoubtedly this is genetic.
My mother is a fan of the theory that, he, being the
way he is, is none other than cosmic payback for
how I was as a child...uh, whatever MOM (eye roll).

SO...my sweet baby this morning is silent.
PROFOUNDLY silent. ODDLY silent. STRANGELY silent.
CAT'S-GOT-YOUR-TONGUE quiet. His face is still
buried in my neck while I hold him (our morning ritual).
His increasingly longer legs curled around my waist when
I lean back and he sits up and I see that his lips are tightly sealed.

"What's up?" I say...
"Shhhh, keep your mowf clowsed." He whispers through
ever-so-slightly parted lips...

"Uhm...why?"
"Dhere's a BUG." He manages to get out without
parting his lips and clenching his teeth to
form a second barrier.

"Yeah, it's just a fly..."
Urgently, "SHHHHHH! Keep your mowf clowsed! HE'LL FLY IN!"

And the mother (me) laughed...long and hard...
delightfully deep down...the healing kind,
the kind where you HAFTA wipe your eyes afterwards.

First, I kissed my Isaac, thankful that he
has truly brought so much laughter into our home.

THEN...I asked, "So, if he wants to get
into our mouths then what about our noses? Our ears?"
(You GASP, how cruel! How mean! You begin a mental calculation
tallying his probable and likely outrageous adult therapy expense.
Uh, whatever, we've done that...we've got money
in a tax-deductible account already...college-schmollege...)

At the thought of how to possibly protect
all three vulnerable body holes, and
our resulting strategy pictured below,
WE LAUGHED TOGETHER...another blessing.

So here's the pic, His baby-fat thumbs are plugged
deep in his ears, if you can't see.
He's still quiet on the couch as I type...
The rather GIANT fly is buzzing in the window.

I'm thinking flies in the house aren't such a bad thing...
Hmmmm...where is that flyswatter again?
Geez...I can't seem to find it, shoot...dang.

It has NOT been two months...

I know...I KNOW...
I have not been a negligent blogger. I have not been
ignoring the fact that it is VERY important to journal every
beautiful facet, however inconsequential, of our
short lives here so that we can hold our memories close
and so that those we love have a piece of us somewhere
to remember and comfort and spark a laugh should
we not get to live a long, lucid life.

I have been painfully aware of this small fact these
last two months AND I HAVE BEEN BOYCOTTING MY OWN BLOG.

It started with the serious illness of a blogger friend's small
child and I found that I couldn't bubbly blog on when she
was living life where she was. Thankfully, Stellan
is home now but if you wanna see what stopped
"Not Me Monday" for me and began my boycott...
See here...

It continued on when simultaneously, part of our church family
whom we love and who has been so good to us
experienced this...

Please pray for the McCracken Family.

I stopped blogging. I prayed more. I hugged my kids and
their healthy little bodies a lot. I turned inside myself for awhile.
I read more. I prayed a lot...did I say that already...hmmmm...

THEN...spring sprung and we were up to our eyeballs in travel soccer.
Our grass...beautiful, on our "little" (laugh hysterically)
1/3 of an acre GREW a foot or more a week and seemed
more like 3 acres while I PUSH MOWED and bagged for
4+ hours/week. We picked up a
strength class at the gym which was designed to make us stronger
but in the first few weeks succeeded only in sapping whatever
remaining strength I had. It's better now but seriously, as we speak,
my quads are so sore I wince painfully, quietly...and bravely
endure the pain every time I go to sit.
(yeah, right...don't you know me at all?)
I cry, sob, and dream of handicap railing in my bathroom
every time I hafta go pee...think weighted squats
with multiple plates...dang health kick. Not to mention
that I picked up a part-time teaching job at The
Early Childhood Center (yeah...I'm working)
where both our boys have
attended and add to that a nice little stomach bug
that laid waste to our house for a week and a half
(have we talked about my children's uncanny ability
to catch the stomach flu at least once a year
sometimes more WITHOUT fail? Have we talked about
their absolute giftedness at puking heartily in the
most absolutely ridiculous places? I swear...both cars
were decimated in the span of two days. It would have
been easier to set the vehicles (and the house for that
matter) ON FIRE than it was to clean all of places
where puke landed in our lives.)

All that, dear friends, and perhaps...MAYBE
you might understand my blog boycott.
Not that your lives aren't as incredibly big, real
and busy as mine. I bet you're just loads
better at managing it all.

Anyways, spring has sprung and new life abounds.
Our heads are above water again, only just and so...

Here's my favorite thing I experienced this week...

An older, tired-looking dog wandered into my yard.
I could tell from his collar and well-fed belly that he had a
home and was well taken care of.

He calmly came over to me, I gave him a few pats on his head
then he followed me into my house, slowly walked down the
hall, curled up in the corner and fell asleep.

An hour later, he went to the door, and I let him out.

The next day he was back, greeted me in my yard, walked inside
and resumed his spot in the hall and again slept for about an hour.

This continued off and on for several weeks...

Curious, I pinned a note to his collar, "I would like to find out
who the owner of this wonderful sweet dog is
and ask if you are aware that almost every afternoon your
dog comes to my house for a nap."

The next day he arrived for his nap, with a
different note pinned to his collar,
"He lives in a home with 6 children
2 under the age of 3 - he's trying to catch up on his sleep.
Can I come with him tomorrow?"