When I first moved in to where I live now, people were already living in the house. Those people (this time my husband is included). So, naturally, there were some things already done (you know, furniture put in places it did or did not belong, a curtain here, a stack of towels there) and of course, a lot left undone. A single dad with four kids–come on, it was a full on bachelor pad, if you disregarded the random pink underwear, headless Barbies, or the American girl on the kitchen floor, complete with the knotty never’ll-be-the-same-again hair. Basically, it needed a woman’s touch. I was just that woman.
Just before we were married, my husband was adding a third floor to the house (a floor which I really like. He has good taste. Hi honey!). In this project, one thing was left undone for which I am ever grateful. He was in talks with the builder about putting a pole from the third floor to the second floor. Like a fireman’s pole–nothing else (you dirty girl; but now that you mention it?). This would be for the kids to grab onto and slide down to their little heart’s content. Where would it end up you ask? In the master bedroom closet. Yes, indeed. They’d grip onto that pole, wrap their little legs around it, let go, and seconds later be in my closet peeking their heads out at all sorts of ungodly times.
“Mom and Dad are just wrestling, kids! We do this a lot!”
Needless to say, it did not happen. Do you hear the Hallelujah chorus in the background? I certainly did. I remember him telling me about this unfinished business of his (I still think he has this dream for a future home) as if I would be disappointed. Disappointed?! Ecstatic is more like it! Not that I’m anti-children’s fun (or am I?) but I am anti-children’s fun when the fun is happening one place, and seconds later, without warning, that fun is at my back door, literally. It’s just bad feng-shui.
So, it is with my husband in mind, that I post this picture. I love it and would absolutely give it the thumbs-up in a future home. I suppose it could be a bit of a danger with a waddling toddler nearby, but at the moment, that’s neither here nor there.
- 3 tablespoons unsalted butter
- 1 1/4 teaspoons sugar
- 1/4 cup vermouth
- 3 1/2 cups chicken broth
to pick up these most-wanteds before they sell out.
and add it to your little repertoire.
If you’re not interested in actually being a team member (You loser! Who said that? J/K! LOL! LYLAS!), you can simply donate to my team online at the Make It Right website using a credit card. Cha-ching! Easy as that.
I know funds are low for everyone and their mother these days though, which is why fundraising may be oh-so attractive. My first fundraising efforts? I’m in charge of a craft fair lunch stand this weekend and will be putting out a jar with the Make it Right logo (so they don’t think this is for my personal manicure/pedicure funds) on it and wearing my hat if it gets here in time. Questions? Find the girl with the Make it Right hat.
Three passions have governed my life:
The longings for love, the search for knowledge,
And unbearable pity for the suffering of [humankind].
Love brings ecstasy and relieves loneliness.
In the union of love I have seen
In a mystic miniature the prefiguring vision
Of the heavens that saints and poets have imagined.
With equal passion I have sought knowledge.
I have wished to understand the hearts of [people].
I have wished to know why the stars shine.
Love and knowledge led upwards to the heavens,
But always pity brought me back to earth;
Cries of pain reverberated in my heart
Of children in famine, of victims tortured
And of old people left helpless.
I long to alleviate the evil, but I cannot,
And I too suffer.
This has been my life; I found it worth living.
When I was in New Orleans, I took a tour of the city with a lovely guide who is a New Orleans native. She took us everywhere–including all the areas greatly affected by Hurricane Katrina (which, truth be told, is the majority of the city). I saw the devastation the floodwaters caused, both when they came rushing into the city carrying with it barges, homes, furniture, and cars, and then the devastation they continued making as the water sat, and sat, and sat–black mold, mildew, you name it. (*photo from wikipedia)
lindsey, age 7
There is a LOT to be thankful for.
At the top of my list are the following:
and in random order so as not to hurt those desperately vying for #1 in the heart of
This guy. I call him husband.
These lovelies. I call them sisters and mother.
This little lady. I call her estrogen in a mostly testosterone household.
THANKS BE TO GOD for her.
The testosterone I was speaking of. Despite their smelliness, I still love them.
This one… she’s called naughtiness covered in fur. Serious naughtiness.
This guy. He goes by many names, but for times’ sake, we’ll call him father.