Happy Thanksgiving


I’m thankful for…

My husband.  My little girl.  Our home.  Our cars, that run.  Our jobs.  The sun filtering through snow-covered trees.  The heater.  Warm blankets.  Fuzzy socks.  Running water.  Hot running water.  Food in my cupboards.  A loving family.  My life story.  Coffee.  Family pictures on the wall.  My sewing machine.  Cherry Coke.  Airplanes.  The trees surrounding our apartment.  Soft cats.  My childhood.  Creating my own child’s childhood.  “Five kisses” before she walked out the door.  A washer and dryer.  The stillness.  A soft bed.  A good book.  Homemade Mickey Mouse pancakes.  A flushing toilet.  1,000 square feet of love.  A couch big enough to cuddle on.  A warm bath.  My heart full of memories and thanksgiving.  The mercy and grace of my loving God.

I’m thankful… period.


My Mother-in-Law Gives Me Old Bananas

Old BananasIt’s true.

When her bananas get old, she throws them in a plastic Target bag and sends them home with me.

Not because she doesn’t love me… but because she DOES!  And after living in close proximity for nearly three years, she knows me pretty well.

She knows I resemble her husband in the fact that I hate to waste anything and if I heard she threw them away I might just dig through her trash when she wasn’t looking and fish them out.

She knows that I like to find a use for things… random things.  Boxes.  Toilet paper rolls.  Old clothes.  Black Bananas. Continue reading

I Still Believe…

Giving Thanks… in Thanksgiving.

Maybe it’s because I grew up with a mother who adored Fall.

Each September our little world would erupt in a dizzying cloud of red and orange, brown and yellow.  Corn stalks would be bundled and placed strategically throughout our property.  Paired with home-grown gourds.  Giant pumpkins.  And the occasional homemade scarecrow.  Some people decorate at Christmas with tinsel and boughs.  In the Fall, our house was strewn with fake leaves.  Bunches of wheat.  Ears of Indian Corn tied with a ribbon.  Bunnies dressed in Thanksgiving.  Cornucopias.  Pilgrims.  Scarecrows.  Pumpkins.  Orange and brown pillows.  Fluffy throw blankets.  The fireplace would be cleaned out and warmed up for those first chilly fall days, only after you moved three pots of mums off the top of it.

I grew up surrounded by Fall.  And Thanksgiving. Continue reading

Holiday Pinterest Depression

pinterest_logo_fullI’m over at the Knoxville Mom’s Blog today trying to defeat all the depression & guilt that comes from too much Pinterest around the holidays.  Do you know what I’m talking about?  So many ideas and wonderful things that you think you ought to be doing, but you just can’t.  Or you just don’t have the time.  Or you’re just not crafty.

Don’t worry.  Your holiday happiness doesn’t depend on all the things you do or don’t do.  Your holiday happiness depends on you being you and your family being your family!

Come over and check it out!

PASSIONATE PEOPLE: Why you should shop small local craft fairs.

Passionate PeopleI’m a little partial, but I think everyone should go to craft fairs… even if you’re not a “craft fair kind of person.”

I know sometimes they’re crazy.  Sometimes they smell like potpourri.  Sometimes you have to dodge really, really slow people who like to stop and stare before they make their next kill.  But beyond those complications, there are even more really amazing reasons why you should hunt for the flyers, punch those addresses in your GPS, and hit up two or three a Saturday.

Because craft fairs are PEOPLE. Continue reading

To Be Blessed by Change

To Be BlessedThe Pickle is obsessed with leaves right now.  It’s hard not to be, I guess, when the whole world is covered with them.  But she’s really… really.  Obsessed.  She picks leaves up everywhere.  We’ll be walking to the car, she’ll grab a leaf.  We’ll be in a parking lot, she’ll spot the only leaf for two miles. “Yook, Mommy!  A yeaf!  Dat’s MY yeaf!”  And of course, she’ll have to pick up the leaf- and every subsequent leaf she finds- and she’ll have to keep it.  “Mommy carry dis!”  or ” I wan’ show daddy my yeaf!”  Sometimes I can curb the situation by saying, “Oh, honey, daddy will see all these leaves when he gets home.  Let’s leave them out here so he can see them.”  But sometimes I’m not so lucky.  So we have leaves.

In the house.  In her kitchen.  In the pocket of my coat.  In her carseat.  All over the floor of the car.  And in every picture we have taken since that first leaf fell in October. Continue reading