March 2009


img_2389-xangaIt interests me, that all through our lives–if we seek to think about others more than ourselves–we will give and adapt and adjust in order to sustain and cultivate relationships.

Parenting demands more of this than any other, perhaps.  I suppose it depends upon our personality, as to what amount of “giving in” we need to do in our marriage, our parenting, and with friends.

And of course there’s a fine line between doing what is needed, and doing too much.

And some of it is not “giving in” at all, but just plain pride in what our loved one has accomplished!

In keeping with my tradition of supplying scotch tape to my toddler, bread twist-ties to my preschooler, and countertop space to my semi-adult son, this weekend I changed the decor of my kitchen.  It will be so for a while, anyway.

BEFORE

kitchen-pre-xanga2

AFTER

kitchen-after-xanga2

My Older Son has been taking a ceramics class in college this semester.  Given his serious passion with antiquity, he has produced all his pottery in the Anglo-Saxon style.

img_2382-xanga

This too shall pass?

He has signed up for Advanced Ceramics next semester.

MOVING OVER

 

 

It interests me, that all through our lives–if we seek to think about others more than ourselves–we will give and adapt and adjust in order to sustain and cultivate relationships.

Parenting demands more of this than any other, perhaps.  I suppose it depends upon our personality, as to what amount of “giving in” we need to do in our marriage, our parenting, and with friends.

And of course there’s a fine line between doing what is needed, and doing too much.

And some of it is not “giving in” at all, but just plain pride in what our loved one has accomplished!

In keeping with my tradition of supplying scotch tape to my toddler, bread twist-ties to my preschooler, and countertop space to my semi-adult son, this weekend I changed the decor of my kitchen.  It will be so for a while, anyway.

BEFORE

kitchen-pre-xanga2

AFTER

kitchen-after-xanga2

My Older Son has been taking a ceramics class in college this semester.  Given his serious passion with antiquity, he has produced all his pottery in the Anglo-Saxon style.

img_2382-xanga

This too shall pass?

He has signed up for Advanced Ceramics next semester.

ELECTRIC PHOTOS

I often wish I could draw some of the funny pictures I get into my head; today I was thinking about how sometimes it seems the world is filled with the coiled burners you find on electric stoves.  And no matter what you do—even if it’s in kindness, or politeness, or goodwill—you get burned, left and right.  Ouch!  Ouch!  Ooomph!

Can you see a person walking around with lots of little burn marks all over them?

I’ve heard the saying, “She’s prickly all over.”  Wouldn’t THAT make a grand picture?  Maybe I should replace my hurtfulness of the hot burners with the more gentle bites of the prickles, and not take it so much to heart.

Come to think of it, maybe I’M the one with the prickles.  If I myself weren’t so prickly, maybe I wouldn’t feel hurt so many times.


Ace Clipart

To protect myself from hot burners and/or prickles, I suppose I could wear armor or develop a hard shell.  In some ways, that’s the same as wearing prickles.  What a funny picture comes to mind THERE!

I think I had better go read Old Hat’s encouraging reminder again:  to NOT throw up my defenses, to keep a soft heart, and to remember that God always looks upon US with gentleness.

I try to walk every day (ignore my son’s look of disbelief).  If I go up and down the driveway five times, it makes a mile.

The view from the road, looking toward our house.

Of course, the minute I put my big toe out of the door this morning, it began to rain.  But here is what I saw:

Rhubarb.

A moaning beech tree.

Coltsfoot, one of the first flowers of spring.  Its leaves, which come later, are in the shape of a colt’s foot.

Our tin man, who needs a new coat of paint.

This is our gas-station-like “dinger” that rings our doorbell when someone comes up our driveway.

Empty seed pods from an evergreen.

One of my prize junk-sale finds that we put on our driveway.

An empty beech tree seed pod.

The tree has grown up around this birdhouse.  Now usually house wrens nest there.

Deer damage.

The daffodils.

A perfect woodpecker hole lying right along the driveway.

SPRING FIELD TRIP

I try to walk every day (ignore my son’s look of disbelief).  If I go up and down the driveway five times, it makes a mile.

The view from the road, looking toward our house.



Of course, the minute I put my big toe out of the door this morning, it began to rain.  But here is what I saw:

Rhubarb.

A moaning beech tree.

Coltsfoot, one of the first flowers of springIts leaves, which come later, are in the shape of a colt’s foot.

Our tin man, who needs a new coat of paint.

This is our gas-station-like “dinger” that rings our doorbell when someone comes up our driveway.

Empty seed pods from an evergreen.

One of my prize junk-sale finds that we put on our driveway.

An empty beech tree seed pod.

The tree has grown up around this birdhouse.  Now usually house wrens nest there.

Deer damage.

The daffodils.

A perfect woodpecker hole lying right along the driveway.

MY VERSION

Here is a homemaker’s version of “downsizing”–moving the leftovers from the large container into a smaller one:

 

Here is a homemaker’s version of “downsizing”–moving the leftovers from the large container into a smaller one:

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