Stick a fork in me....I'm done.

With much grumbling and complaining, I got up this morning around 4 a.m. to head out with Robb to the Black Friday sales. The kids were spending the night with their friends next door, and we were free to go to bed early so we could be fully rested for our adventures today.

Of course, we didn't do that. We were glued to Season One of Mad Men and I had a little trouble drifting off after Roger Stirling climbed 21 flights of stairs after a lunch of oysters and martinis, which he promptly barfed in one of the most realistic scenes I've ever scene on film....I did finally fall asleep to dream that piles of rats had been exterminated in an outhouse, which I apparently owned and didn't think I could live without, even though the piles of dead rats, which had strangely comedic faces, tempted me to just burn it all down. From there, I was headed to a conference between a convent and some kind of Baptist Fundamentalists, where I found myself sitting at long, uncomfortable tables covered in that dreadful table paper, with my husband....who proceeded to tell all the fundamentalists that I had a terrible swearing problem. And to prove it, he let Charleigh say a bad word in front of them all. I was so mad at him, I stormed out...I remained pretty cranky with him until he put a Starbucks in my hand several hours later.

But by 12:15, we were home again with a trunk full of presents for the whole family. I may pick up a few stocking presents, but the kids, nieces and nephews are DONE. We arrived home feeling pretty triumphant until we found miss Muffet in a heap, having tossed her cookies. She's still pretty green around the gills. As per our agreement, we have the neighbor's kids now, and hopefully, no one else will be struck down with any plagues.

And now, all I want in the world is a cup of tea to help unclog my stuffy head, a warm blankie, and maybe later...some leftovers.

Merry Happy Turkey Day

I gave the kids the camera while I finished getting the meal on the table. Turns out, they were pretty excited about the ginger ale. I teased them about making happy faces while I made them wait just one more minute to take a picture before we devoured it all. They are all napping now. Triptofan, how I love thee....

Hope your day is turkeylicious.

It turns out this afternoon is another day....

yeah, I just hit "reboot" on the day and I'm just getting around to starting it right...good coffee, a blog or two, and the children outside where they belong (I joke. No, I don't.)

So what you need now is laughter. Guilty, spitting coffee on your screen, inappropriate, sarcastic, hilarious.....hilarity. Sorry, ran out of wordage. Anyway...if that is indeed what you need, this is the website where you belong:

"It's LOVELY! I'll Take It" is a blog devoted to utterly terrible real estate pictures , with deliciously sarcastic commentary. In the vein of my other guilty pleasures (The "blog" of unnecessary quotation marks and Passive Aggressive Notes) this is good fun.

oh help

If I don't get out of bed, will it all go away????

Tylenol? Calgon? Mommy?

anybody?

ugh.

Shabby Chic Lover's Flower Pot

Dear Santa, Please fill my stocking with the green ceramic cutting Dremel bit. I love it very much.
VkR

PS. And also some neosporin to help my cuts heal faster so I can make more mosaics.

The Four Seasons of a Mosaic Flower Pot

TGIF!!!!!

It's been a crazy, crazy week, and I am so thrilled that it is finally Friday! I am still working away on the two HUGE pots I got from the shop yesterday...she was out of little ones, so I am plugging away, hoping to have them ready by 2 this afternoon. Thanks for all your encouraging words on the small one...these are fun to make and have great impact. I've had a lot of questions from people about teaching a class, and I'm going to look into which venue would be the best one for that. It's such a relaxing pastime, especially yesterday when the sun was shining in my windows (clean windows thanks to VF) with iPod blaring, and creativity pumping through my veins.

Sadly, that's probably not all that is pumping through my veins. Despite Matthew's concerns for my heart, I had a hankering for the food of my people...the Polish ones...So I made a batch of home made applesauce with a dash of cloves, fried latkes, and good ol' keilbasa for supper last night...a little kraut with the meat, a little sour cream for the latkes (or potato pancakes for you non-Europeans)....mmmmmm.....cholesterol......

ok. Salad for supper tonight. Or maybe pizza. I'm only 34!

On My Worktable

The lady at the garden shop asked if I could try my hand at adding mosaics to flowerpots. This was my first swipe at it and I am pleased with the result. Hopefully, she will be too and will send me home with 10 more pots to make over before her open house tomorrow afternoon!

Been reading too much Country Living....

....and Pottery Barn catalogs.

Ponderings...UPDATE

I haven't been blogging because I've been wondering a couple of things....

Number one. Vegetable Oil. I don't get it. Is it made from vegetables? Or are you supposed to cook vegetables in it? I thought oil is fat and I thought vegetables didn't have fat in them. I'm seriously confused by this and I hope that someone (MCP) can help me with this question.

Also. I bought this very thick comforter last year to use during the winter. I put it on two nights ago, turned the heat in the house way down, and had to get up and change it (ok, I made Robb get up and change it) because it was just too insanely hot. Last night, though, the house was warmer and I think I even forgot to turn down the heat. But when we went to bed, it felt cold and we threw the comforter on top of the other blankets. It was perfect. Slept like a baby. What's up with that?

I might have some other things going on, too, that are keeping me from blogging...I don't know...baking birthday cakes, working on church projects, getting ready for ladies group tonight, making more mosaics for the garden center open house this weekend, plumping my Etsy store and selling on ebay again to make Christmas money, laundry.....


UPDATE: later this same day: How did this ring get here? I found it half way down this branch. How long has it been there and who put a 24K gold ring on my rose bush????

Love Personality Tests?

My friend Donna does and so do I. I enjoyed taking this one and I'd love to hear your results too. Take the test here.

And these were my results....Do you think this sounds like me?

ISFJ: We are lucky that Protectors make up as much as ten percent the population, because their primary interest is in the safety and security of those they care about - their family, their circle of friends, their students, their patients, their boss, their fellow-workers, or their employees. Protectors have an extraordinary sense of loyalty and responsibility in their makeup, and seem fulfilled in the degree they can shield others from the dirt and dangers of the world. Speculating and experimenting do not intrigue Protectors, who prefer to make do with time-honored and time-tested products and procedures rather than change to new. At work Protectors are seldom happy in situations where the rules are constantly changing, or where long-established ways of doing things are not respected. For their part, Protectors value tradition, both in the culture and in their family. Protectors believe deeply in the stability of social ranking conferred by birth, titles, offices, and credentials. And they cherish family history and enjoy caring for family property, from houses to heirlooms.

Wanting to be of service to others, Protectors find great satisfaction in assisting the downtrodden, and can deal with disability and neediness in others better than any other type. They are not as outgoing and talkative as the Provider Guardians [ESFJs], and their shyness is often misjudged as stiffness, even coldness, when in truth Protectors are warm-hearted and sympathetic, giving happily of themselves to those in need.

Their reserve ought really to be seen as an expression of their sincerity and seriousness of purpose. The most diligent of all the types, Protectors are willing to work long, hard hours quietly doing all the thankless jobs that others manage to avoid. Protectors are quite happy working alone; in fact, in positions of authority they may try to do everything themselves rather than direct others to get the job done. Thoroughness and frugality are also virtues for them. When Protectors undertake a task, they will complete it if humanly possible. They also know better than any other type the value of a dollar, and they abhor the squandering or misuse of money. To save, to put something aside against an unpredictable future, to prepare for emergencies-these are actions near and dear to the Protector's heart. For all these reasons, Protectors are frequently overworked, just as they are frequently misunderstood and undervalued. Their contributions, and also their economies, are often taken for granted, and they rarely get the gratitude they deserve.

Mother Teresa, George H.W. Bush, Jimmy Steward, and Tsar Nicholas II are examples of Protector Guardian style.

For Courtney

BIG NEWS!

On Thursday morning, I got a call from a lady I met at the Jones Center craft fair. She had a booth there with her daughter and she came down from her spot around the corner several times to check on me and see how things were going, and also to flat out admire my work. She even brought her husband at one point.

So out of the blue, she called to tell me that she has recently purchased a local green house/garden shop and is having an open house next Friday. She said that she just really loved my mosaics and asked if I would be willing to bring them in and we could work something out.

I wasn't sure what to expect, but after long consideration, she opted to flat out buy most of my small pieces and asked me to leave the rest in the store on consignment. She asked me to simply name my price and she would tack on whatever she needed to make on them! I didn't take all of my stuff, not knowing exactly what to expect, but she asked me to please bring in my other mailbox and asked "Can you mosaic over flower pots?" You bet I can!

so, I'm headed back this afternoon to pick up my check and drop off the other mailbox. When I get the cash, it will feel real.....maybe!

Go Go Go!

So I'm trying to think about something to blog about, and I'm not coming up with anything too interesting. "Why is that, I wonder?" I ask myself. Says self to me, "It's because you've been so busy!"

oh yeah....

Here's what's doin'

On Monday, I did full on all-store grocery shopping. It's been awhile since I did this, and frankly, I'm still not happy about that total Walmart redoux. I still can't find a flinging-flanging thing.

Tuesday, our friends Carl and Carrie called...they have been in Colorado for six months since being suddenly yanked out of our lives by Carl's work. Which will remain nameless. But we're still not happy about it. Anyway, they were back this week to introduce their sweet youngest baby who we had not gotten to meet yet, and oh...yeah ...to actually pack their house into a moving truck.

Tuesday night was Mattie's class program. I am still hoping to get the video together that Daddy shot, but until then, just know that our oldest is amazing and adorable.

Wednesday I photo'd clothes for my etsy shop, which took up the lion share of the day, I think....

Thursday...that was yesterday, right? I drove Carrie and the kids to the airport (And prayed that all three babies who are under 6, would be angels for her). On the way home, I hit an awesome garage sale and came home with a fabulous box of Fire King for five dollars!

Today...today I plan to shower before 5 pm....I promise. And then I have an appointment to take some of my mosaics to a shop. The lady met me at the craft fair and liked my stuff so much that she called me yesterday and asked me to bring some of it in. I am pretty excited about this and hopefully, it will jump-start my making some new pieces.

So that's the week in a nutshell. It doesn't sound like much, but it has been good and busy, and next week promises to be the same way.

And oh, by the way, if you have called my house phone recently and I have not answered....I'm really not screening you. I just discovered that if the phone is sitting in the cradle, it doesn't ring. It does ring if it is off the cradle (it's a cordless). Does anyone have any idea how I can fix this? Weird.

Pony

Ms Charleigh-Brown-Eyed-Girl has been on a stick-pony kick lately. Last week, on a day we were walking to school, she insisted on riding her pony. "I don't think that's a good idea, Charleigh." says Mommy. Charleigh cannot be dissuaded and of course, falls down, scrapes her knee and has be carried home, stick pony in tow. The stick pony has alternately borne the names Gingerbread, Buttercup, and Penny. I'll be curious to see what her name is today. Giddy'up!

I've been Tagged

Look at my fancy-schmancy award from Jess of Sassy Pants fame.














6 Random facts about me:



1. This is my refrigerator. Note the mostly empty jar of olives on the top shelf.





2.This is my hobby....That's right....I break dishes for fun and relaxation:














3.This is my family:





















4.This is me, pre-coffee...also pre-toothbrush, pre-hairbrush, pre-moisturizer, pre-eyeliner, pre-hairspray and also before I put on any socks:













5.This is my dog, Sidney, sleeping in the lid of the turtle sandbox, which either makes her really dumb or really smart, we haven't decided....



















6. This is hard to explain:



I now tag creative bloggers: Jasmine, Wendy, Ron (who won't do it, but is creative) Jody, and Sara. Blog on!

Straight to the Heart

Small groups at Vintage have started up, and one of the groups is endeavoring to do a number of service projects as a way of bonding as a group and also, serving people. For their first project, they decided to help a certain Pastor and his wife with winterizing the house and end of the year yard work.

I have to say, this is the pretty much the first time a church has done something like this and I alternated between complete and total embarrassment and just flat out LOVING it. They pruned, they raked, they power-washed the side of the house! It would have taken me a solid day to get all of it done...oh let's be honest...I wouldn't have gotten it done and I would have been annoyed with myself all winter. They even washed windows. We have clean gutters, clean windows, clean house, and a clean yard. I wake up, look out there and just feel loved.

Are you familiar with the concept of love languages? There are five ways people hear and give love: words of affirmation, quality time, physical touch, acts of service, and gifts. (If you haven't read this book, go pick it up at the library....it's an oldie but a goodie). I am an acts of service girl. When people do things to lighten my load, it goes straight to my heart. Vintage Nooma Group....you hit it, right in the sweet spot. I love you guys.

The Curse is Broken

For some reason, "celebrating my birthday" in Arkansas has been an oxymoron. The first year we were here, living in the Hollyhock House, Robb forgot which day my birthday was. Note the careful wording of that sentence....it's part of the agreement. The year after that, I got the flu and hoped I might just die and be done with it. Last year, I remember vaguely dragging around in my bathrobe and fat-girl pants, trying to decide if it really was time to try anti-depressants...and it turns out...it REALLY WAS. This year, Robb took on the challenge. He was going to make it FUN. As usual, I had no idea what the plan was...I just follow the directions of what to wear and when to be ready.

In this case, I was to wear casual clothes. Hmmmm....no sexy shoes or (freezing cold) little black dress? OK! I was guessing ice-skating. We drove by the rink....and I took off the gloves I threw on, just in case.

"What's the theme of the night?" Robb asks me in his best cheer-leading voice.
"The theme of the night is FUN!" I shout back, as we pull into Fast Lanes...go-karts, black-light bowling, and arcade games.

It was an absolute blast. This is a more grown up rendition, with a full bar and grille. They brought our pizza and beer, and I crushed my husband with my keen bowling skills. I won't mention the final scores on air hockey, ski-ball and Ms. Packman. We earned enough to tickets to get the kids little pieces of junk (but not enough for the lip-gloss I so desperately needed!) We extended the evening with a stop for coffee and dessert before heading home to fall deeply, deliciously asleep while watching The Soup.

Yeah. The curse is broken. Birthdays are back on.

The Big 3-4

So I'm 34 today. Obviously, not an important birthday exactly, but a good time to sit and think a bit about where I came from and where I'm headed.

I was lying in bed around 6 this morning, listening to Robb make everything nice...he even ran out to the store because we were out of coffee. And I was thinking about being a kid...about my parents and my grandparents.

I am the second kid in the family, and the oldest girl. This was the view I saw every day of my life until I went to college. My daddy was part owner of a lawn and garden store and my mom made everything nice for all of us. I grew up playing baseball in the front yard, and hide and seek with our own special additive-play guns. This always deteriorated into a massive argument about whether or not we were "hit" or not by the pretend gunshots. My big brother tortured me with snakes, convinced me to kiss a frog, and hit me in the head with a shovel once..by accident of course. To my sisters, I was not a particularly good big sister as I was always trying to keep them out of my spotlight. I would do anything today to have them in my spotlight, borrow my shoes, whatever they wanted, just to be together.

My favorite things to do as a kid were playing in the creek, fishing in the pond across the road, cleaning and rearranging the furniture in our tree house (are you surprised at all by this?), and riding my bike on the paths in our woods. At different times in our lives, I had calves, pigs, chickens, turkeys, ducks, cats, dogs, and rabbits, but it was never a farm exactly. My first real cash was money I earned selling baby rabbits for four dollars a piece. I was eight years old. Then I worked for my dad at his store, which I did until I graduated from high school at which point, I thought I really should get a "real job" working as a hostess at a steak house, which I stunk at. I should have stuck with the Feed Store.

My kids find it shocking that I never rode a school bus: My parents sacrificed much to send us to private Christian school which I attended for 13 years. We never had cable tv or even a tv with a remote control while I lived at home. I never had my hair cut until I was 13...which wasn't a religious thing, but rather, my dad just really liked our hair being long. I think it was a 70s thing. We grew most of our own food, mom made most of our clothes, and we went to a restaurant about twice a year. My mom's parents had 7 kids and 24 grandchildren, and for our birthdays, they took each kid out to any restaurant we wanted EXCEPT McDonalds (which my Grandpa declared used Kangaroo Meat) and let us choose a gift that cost five dollars. I realized this morning that they had a birthday to celebrate about 1/2 of the weeks of the year.

When I got to high school, my biggest ambition was being popular and finding somebody who would worship the ground I walked on slightly more than my dad already did. The first boy I ever really loved was a guy named Ray who (I didn't know this at first) had gotten in trouble for making his own alcohol, and had an earring and his nose pierced (and he sometimes wore a chain between them, but I never saw this because he went to public school). His sister and he had inflicted tattoos on one another: his was a cross on his chest and hers was an elaborate design around the word "Rebel." They did it with ink in a hypodermic needle. My dad was not too happy about this relationship. But Ray was smart, sweet and had a heart of gold; we used to go fishing in the pond behind his aunt and uncle's house where he lived because he had a hard time with his parents. It was probably the first and most innocent and honest friendship I had ever had with a boy. Eventually, he moved back home and he broke up with me because quite frankly, I was a brat. He is exactly the kind of person we serve at Vintage. The irony of this is not lost on me.

I went to college to become an English teacher, not so much because I wanted to teach, but because I really liked my English teachers. I figured I could use an English degree for something, someday. In the first two months, I got the lead in the play which led to my meeting Robb and getting my job with Dr. Carter....yada yada yada...here I am...staying at home (just like my mom), rearranging the furniture in my "tree house," making a little money from my own little enterprises, and trying not to be a brat.

Marcie and Drusie just called to wish me a happy birthday, and facebook greetings have been pinging my inbox right and left. Robb got me a Dremel tool for my birthday (he knows me SO WELL!) and we are going out tonight to do something mysterious and FUN.

I'm a lucky, lucky girl. Thanks for listening to me ramble.

Housel Silhouette Pictures

I found a couple of these in my travels to and fro and really liked them. When I started to research the name, to my absolute delight, I found one of the original handmade success stories. Kaye Housel started making silhouette pictures for a school fund raiser back in 1946 and now, there are three generations of silhouette makers in her family. I think you will enjoy this story.

The Sweetest Things

Monday was a simply stunning day and I felt compelled to take on a little project that fell my way through the craft fair. Two of the sweetest little ladies on planet earth, 85 year old twins, asked me to come and cover over a marble plaque built into their porch, inscribed with the name of the builder and who he built the house for in the year 1990....much too recent to be of any interest. Ms. Marcella told me that that slab had indeed bothered she and her sister Drucilla every day for the five years they've lived there, "Because WE OWN THIS HOUSE!" And when I called them to ask if it was a good day to work on it, Marcella declared "Oooooooh I just love you for fixing that thing for us!"

Armed with tools to simply cover it over in grout, I arrived to be greeted with a warm hug by both ladies, who were dressed elegantly and identically. They watched, enthralled as I covered the marble. And then they inquired what color tile I'd be using and wouldn't "Welcome" be nice? So.......after three trips, this is what we came up with together. They applauded when I finished it.

When Ms Marcella discovered Charleigh's name, she seemed to throw out beams of light from somewhere warm inside of her: Charlie was her late husband's name. Marcella and Drucilla have never gone a day of their lives without seeing one another and lived side by side for 30 years on the land their father gave them. Their great uncle was a decorated Confederate soldier who they remember as "simply the most glorious man." Their great grandfather was captured in the war and died in a Yankee prison. Their father expected to be drafted into the Great War, and when he and his brother were not, they opened a small store on the White River, where they also owned a ferry. Marcella's Charlie went off to war after they had dated for two years, and was a pilot who flew bomber planes. He went down over Germany and was a POW in a prison camp. He was rescued and came home to her, but they had no children. She said Charlie was never the same after the war. Drucilla likes nothing better than to receive a letter addressed to "Drusie" because it means it is from a friend. She married her sweetheart, also a pilot, and they had a son. When they lost their husbands, they moved into this house, cram-jamming all their pretty things from both households. They proudly showed me their photos, including their mother's picture. She lived to be 90. They are a long-lived crowd. And when I asked if they ever disagreed, Ms. Marcie shook her head slowly and emphatically. "Never. Mama said we lay in our crib and just made each other laugh from the time we were babies." When I drove away the other day, they waved goodbye to me from the porch, while they stood holding hands.

Occasionally, an author will invent a character so beloved and so remarkable, they cannot possibly be real. These two are so real, they cannot possibly be made up. Three horrendous wars, 30 years of working and 85 years of living have left them nothing but sweet and good and loving and kind. Need an example? When they learned that my husband is a pastor, they declared, "We want to visit your church!" A little bit horrified, I hedged...."Oh, it's pretty far...all the way down in Fayetteville..."
But Marcie pressed me and I finally said, "Now, Girls...you might not like it. We have a band, not an organ." To which, they turned to each other and squealed, "OH! We LOVE drummers!" And so, I gave in and gave them directions. And if they show up, I have no doubt in my mind that they will LOVE LOVE LOVE every bit of it.

I hope I say this right....

I grew up in western Pennsylvania. Racist, western Pennsylvania. It's true. I'm from there, so I can tell you that it is kind of like that. Not in the overt, southern racist kind of way, but more in the "we don't know any black people" or "the only black people we know do bad things" kind of racist. There's a little bit of difference...it's a small difference, but it does exist. I heard the N word growing up and it wasn't a nice word, but it wasn't verboten either. There was like, one black kid in my school. His name was Harrison Dixon the Third and he looked like a tiny little boy version of Benson. I included a picture of Benson just in case you are too young to remember (You infants, you).

oh wait...in my kindergarten class, there was a girl named Shokia. She peed on her cot. That's all I remember about her. But I don't remember much about most of the kids in that class, to be honest.

Unbeknownst to me, about an hour away, outside of Cleveland, my husband was growing up in a racially mixed area where he knew lots of African American kids. Just over the border in PA, though, they were few and far between.

Fast forward a few years to the Cosby Show. They had a girl named Vanessa. I'd never met anybody else with my name and it was kind of cool. I thought Malcolm Jamal Warner was cute and funny. But I never, ever said so. My posters were of the Two Corey-s and Kirk Cameron and an unidentified blond J Crew model in plaid Madras shorts.

Then I went to college. During a magical snow-storm that had us snowed into our dorm, my floor huddled together and dished out all our secrets. Mel confessed that she would love to go out with Dee, the tall, black star of our college basketball team. Mel had porcelain white skin and the most amazing shiny black hair, which belied her very dutch last name. And I had a moment. "You would do that?" I asked, unguarded. She looked back at me and furrowed her eyebrows. "Why wouldn't I?"

Why wouldn't she, indeed?

I felt so stupid. And uninformed. And....and....racist.

A few years later, I found myself sitting in the food court at the Staten Island Mall. ..a small oasis of pleasant smells in the middle of an establishment built on top of the world's largest land fill. I looked around me and realized I was the only vanilla, mid-western, culturally un-identifiable person in the room. It was a moment.
I realized how Harrison Dixon III and Shokia must have felt.

Now I live in the sunny south. It is what it is. And I have a friend who is black. African American. She is actually Pacific Islander, Spanish, Belgian, and African. BONUS. I think she knows this, but she's my first real black friend. It's nice of her to give me a chance and not smack me when I say or do something stupid. She's told me a little bit about Kwanzaa and the racism that exists against white people. It's great to finally have somebody to ask, who knows me and understands that I'm not trying to be annoying, I just really have no idea.

So, now we have a black President. I didn't vote for him, I confess. But I don't mind that he was elected. I actually think it's pretty great. I'm looking forward to seeing how Michelle does things. (I LOVE first Ladies. All first ladies. I identify with them somehow.) I feel like....and I hope I'm saying this right....like I have another black friend. I have a lot to learn. I think probably we all do.

This was really hard for me to write.

confession

I have eaten almost an entire jar of green olives all by myself. I bought them on Friday.

Commitments and Clarity

Robb spoke about clarity on Sunday...How Paul was determined through 2 years of imprisonment that he was doing what God would have him do, and how that commitment was unshaken despite circumstances. As he spoke, I found myself listing my own commitments and clarifying where I am headed and what I value. I am on the cusp of having all the kids out the door to school and this time next year, who knows where I will be or how I'll be spending my time? I find myself really re-evaluating.

It was interesting that as I listed commitments and the things I feel most passionate about, selling in my online venues didn't even really surface, but expressing myself creatively did. While we still need the little extra bit of money more than ever, I just don't have the same ferocious drive to devote myself to online selling for 20 or 30 hours a week, like I have in the past. Maybe it's the lack of space to warehouse that has cooled my enjoyment of selling, but more than likely, it's because I am finding so many other activities just as compelling.

Another thing that surfaced was both my desire to lead and the desire of other people to be involved in a women's ministry at church. I wish there was some more cutting edge title for it, but maybe something will develop as I contemplate what this ministry could become. What I see clearly now is that women need a place to connect with other women and share their concerns and frustrations, they need a venue to share what they have and what they know, and they need fun and friendship-building activity that doesn't compete with their other commitments. Do you have positive experiences with a women's ministry? What was compelling about it for you? I have been simmering on this for weeks now, and would love your input. We'll currently be meeting as a small group, but I see this as a seed that could germinate into an ongoing entity.

This has been a time of weeding out the things I don't need any more in my life, material and immaterial. It's a time of trying to determine how to spend my time the best way possible to accomplish the most for the Kingdom. I'm excited and hopeful and also a little bit scared. The times, they are a-changing. (see, I didn't have a picture for this post, but I can put an ear-worm in your head for the rest of the day.)

"I think, therefore I am"

Wow, so much is swirling in my brain this morning. I've just finished reading my blog list and have much to think about.

If you read a lot of blogs and don't use a blog-reader, let me encourage you to look into one. They are a huge time saver. I use Bloglines. You just add the blog addresses into the reader and it keeps track of new posts. I first heard about this from Tammi and it's been a great thing for me.

Found a link to a new designer that I love. Her philosophy..."Love What Belongs to You." Her name is Zoe Murphy. Enjoy.

I also read the entirity of Don Miller's (of Blue Like Jazz fame) article on his journey from being a Reagan Republican to an Obama Democrat. I deeply appreciate his story. I get pretty frustrated with Christians who think you can't love Jesus and be a Democrat because I used to be a Christian who thought you can't love Jesus and be a Democrat. It's a complicated political sphere we live in and I'm deeply respect everyone who is voting out of conviction and not fear.

This week, we'll be starting up small groups at Vintage again and I will be a part of the women's group. I'm excited about this group becoming a catalyst for good things happening through us and in us. Technically, I'm the leader of this group, but it is never my style to stand up and act like I've got a corner on anything spiritually. I think I"ll have my hands full just keeping the discussion on topic.

My to do list includes contacting a pair of 85 year old twin ladies who live here in town to complete a small project on their house. I met them through the craft show and I've been waiting for the weather to be good enough for outdoor work. With clear skies, 75 degree highs and a light breeze, I think the weather is good enough!

I'm also planning to stuff my etsy store, which means a lot of photographs to be taken. I spent an hour at a bookstore yesterday while Mattie was at her friend's birthday party, and I'm feeling pumped up and inspired. I'd also like to make about forty million things....blankets, mosaics, applesauce and rugs being at the top of the list. There is the every-burgeoning pile of laundry to attack. And oh yeah, I'm turning OLD at the end of the week. That is 34. Which is right next to 35, which is just a pre-cursor to 40. Which means I really need to accomplish something. Which means I really need to get off this amazingly luxurious, squishy couch.

I'm going, I'm going. Don't rush me.

"Not all who wander are lost."

With gas close to 2 dollars a gallon, we felt like a drive was an okay way to spend the morning. The cold snap is over and the sun toasted us at a pleasant 75 degrees. As you can see, wandering down Arkansas' mysterious dirt roads can be well worth it, especially this time of year. The kids started to get nervous with no "civilization" in sight for miles, but we just told them as long as they didn't hear any banjo music, we were just fine.