Stick Horse Cowgirls

This holy season finds "C" and I both facing challenges in our families. These tribulations include relationship difficulties, serious illness of extended family, death of a long-time neighbor and close friend a week ago, and loss of job to a family member. My oldest daughter just came home from the hospital after a two day stay for pregnancy complications. So instead of wrapping gifts and baking cookies, I've been caring for her three children and my youngest daughter's new infant son "Jack", as the babysitter arrangements didn't work out. So, weariness covers me like a heavy woolen cloak, but I do have a turkey to roast tomorrow, and a few sweets to prepare with grandaughter, Julia. "C" has a house full of extended family visiting from the East coast. I know she is enjoying cooking and visiting with them all. Like me, she has family who are facing difficult times, and her soon-to-be ex continues to cause grief, but we both place our hope

Yes, I understand that the dogs are spoiled. I do try to keep the separation clear between homo sapiens and canine in this household. Unlike V’s “Dudley” or my sister-in-law’s “Sophie,” my dogs do not presume to sleep on my bed. But they each have their own bed at my bedside. I’m not sure that’s particularly “canine” but, still, it is on the floor. My dogs both sit beautifully on command and obey the basics. I make sure to order them around every so often just to remind them. “ Stay !” I will command, for no good reason. And they both dutifully do, albeit with rolling eyes sometimes as though they are humoring me; but they do it. Rarely do they give any offense whatsoever. Still, the title of “Pack Leader” sometimes seems to hang in life’s gray area around here. Sometimes we can blame that on others…. Take the couch, for instance. Scout is eleven years old. The first nine years of her life as a dog in the house were spent contentedly on the floor. You know, where dogs liv

If you have read very many of my posts, you know what a blessing my dogs are to me. When I was sent this video by a friend, I thought "Wow! What a sermon is that!" I had to share: C

This past week the Turner Movie Classics showed 84 Charing Cross Road , and my son and I happened on it shortly after it began. I cannot tell you how many times I have seen this movie, nor do I ever tire of it. My son, his first time around, was enchanted, as well. The acting is superb (Anne Bancroft, Anthony Hopkins, Dame Judi Dench), and the story draws me in like a sponge…and is a true story. Here’s the gist: Helene Hanff, a writer in New York, pre-WWII, goes in search of hard-to-find volumes by writing to a second-hand bookstore in England—at 84 Charing Cross Road. Frank is the manager of the store and, over twenty years of mail orders and written discourse, he and Helene grow to be very close, that friendship circle including his staff as well. As you watch this movie, you watch this little group of friends through the war and you see the events of their lives unfold through letters back and forth across the Atlantic. And the movie itself is so very stylish. Here's a t

Knowing I would love it, my brother-in-law sent me this link. And, indeed, I enjoyed this trailer immensely. Watch it all the way to the end--I love the final scene!! These few images from this documentary made me think about how we are all so alike and yet our cultures approach things so differently (a baby drinking from a stream??? I love it!!). I cannot wait to see what this film can teach me! I think this comes out in April 2010...I'll be waiting!! C

I am not especially "crafty." I love arts and crafts (don't all children?), but to call me "artistic" or "talented" craftwise is a stretch. Still, our creative juices seek outlets, don't they? Whether they are very high-grade creativities or not. And I find that it is the crafty activities that lend themselves to capturing personal family memories. When my son was small I developed the habit of keeping up with significant events through the year. I have used a calendar for this or a list in my Bible where I would see it frequently and add to it as things occurred. Along toward Christmas, I would take myself to the craft store, buy the largest plain ornament I could find, and white, green and red paint pens. At the top of the ornament, I printed my son's name and the year. Then all over the ornament I would print the "happenings" of the year. These are not the most beautiful ornaments we have. But every year when we decorate

My soon-to-be-ex husband has fairly poor taste (in all but first wives, mind you). Let me give you some examples: When we were into our marriage about two years, we lived in an apartment owned by my father, so we felt at liberty in “decorating.” I indulged his whim by allowing him to follow his dream and paint the kitchen cabinets cobalt blue with lemon yellow doors. The effect was horrifying—like something out of “Yellow Submarine.” Something like this: This color scheme did not last long. He struck again when we built this house. He made the arrangements for gutters to be installed. On the day of the installation, I got a concerned call from the installers. Could I come out there, please? My husband had specified “chocolate brown” for the guttering (unbeknownst to me), and the installers wanted me to be certain before installing. When I arrived, the Hispanic installer explained in very broken English, very pronounced Hispanic accent that if he installed it, the gutters wo

I feel very much like I am in a countdown to Thanksgiving. It is Sunday evening, and I have three full days of work at the office ahead of me. But the turkey is in the fridge, thawing, and the ham is down at MIL's because my refrigerator is bursting at the seams. There is an undercurrent of bustle that is surpassed only by that before Christmas...soon on the heels of this bustle! No wonder I'm exhausted by New Year's. This year my mother will spend Wednesday night with me, as will my niece Ellie and any other nieces who want to join in. We will spend Wednesday evening baking pies a nd getting everything ready for the "real" cooking on Thursday morning. We will, of course have pumpkin pie (obligatory)and Ellie and I have a new dessert recipe to try out--may be reporting to you all on that outcome. Though I like that whole-berry-orange fancy cranberry sauce, my entire family insists on the jellied sauce as well. My mother's specialty is cornbread dressing t

You will never see my home in the decorating magazines. I am just not that "together." Still, like everyone, I have my own "style," which could be called (if you are being generous) "eclectic." If I like it, it's there. I don't spend a lot of thinking about what looks good together. My house is just a collection of my whimsy. And there is no more whimsical room in my house than my powder room. It is so covered with quotes and sayings that some of my family laugh and call it "the reading room," because as you are tending to business, there is much to read! I wanted to share this room with you and, impatient being that I am, cannot wait until someone better at photography can help, so bear with me... The top photo is of the wall and corner directly across from the toilet--right in the line of view, as it were. The three prints are by Brian Andreas , one of my favorite artists. His work is called "story people," and indeed,

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodders in the shock... When the "frost is on the punkin" is when I get in the mood to bake breads and desserts and cook savory broth-based soups and stews. Winter settles heavily on my spirit with the chill in the air and lack of sunlight, so these last days of autumn when the leaves have already fallen from the trees is when I begin gather in to hibernate. If I didn't have to get up and go to work, I could stay in my nightgown all day, sipping my favorite English Breakfast tea, reading, cooking and perhaps a little needlework. To compensate for the lack of sunshine, I light candles and oil lamps to help dispel the gloom of long dreary days. I do love my fireplace, and this season is when we begin to light a fire every night and on Saturday mornings. Thank heavens for our woodburning fireplace--it's truly the heart of our home! In the ten years we've lived in this country house, we've never had to purchase firewood.

I know that the book of Genesis has dubbed the serpent/snake as our “anathema,” but for me it’s always been spiders. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not about to load up on boa constrictors as pets or anything, but snakes do not send me into screaming meemies, just respectful avoidance. Spiders, on the other hand, just freak me completely out. Really, it makes no sense…look how much bigger I am, and not one spider has ever actually hurt anyone I know. What gives on this? But, as much as I dread them, I cannot bear the thought of stomping on them. Basically, I just choose to give them the right-of-way. Last Sunday I was sitting in church when I had a spider moment. The church has concrete floors scored into sections. They are a rich brown color, smooth as glass and shiny. I was sitting there on the aisle during the sermon (yes, I was listening, I swear!), when my spider radar went off. My eyes shifted to the aisle floor, where a small spider (less than dime size) was making his way tow

V and I had planned to get her granddaughter, Julia, and my youngest niece, Ellie, together to make Christmas gifts and do a little baking...oh, we had big plans! We set the date and began gathering materials/ingredients. As I look back, I laugh at our ambition! We gathered enough for three days work, let alone a day with two little girls! Our group grew. My mother, never one to be left out where her children are grandchildren are concerned, came over Friday night to spend the night with Ellie and me. Mother-in-law joined us as well, and Julia's mother came to witness the festivities. So we had a nice little inter-generational group! Friends, all, who were also eager to catch up with each other's news and exchange a little innocuous gossip. I put a pot of beef barley soup on the stove and dragged out the panini machine so we could enjoy soup and gourmet grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch. V, the girls and I went to work. The rest of the women sipped coffee, offered a

Let me just say this right up front: I am no housekeeper. I’ve said it before, but you have no idea how much it needs to be restated. I am only hoping that all those beautiful pictures of my blogging friends’ houses are staged, at least to some degree. In the interests of full disclosure, you need to know that if you see a “tablescape” or floral arrangement from my home, it most likely will never be done with any kind of wide-angle. Believe me; I can only manage “neat-and-tidy” in the smallest of areas, tenuously-contained against the happy chaos of the rest of my home. Let’s put it this way: I’ve often envisioned what would happen if I just up and disappeared….police would, naturally, be called. They’d look around for clues and immediately conclude that there are signs of a struggle. My friends, however, would solemnly shake their heads and reply, “ No, officer, no clue there—this is just the way she lived… ” I could make excuses, I suppose, but I have long since decided that I