But I'm stuck in colder weather

Snow day! Getting even an inch of snow is exciting in these parts. Waking to find 4 inches is thrilling, at least for Irish Jig. After breakfast, those brave enough (it had switched over to sleeting) layered up and headed out for a quick snow ball fight.

Chasing Daddy with a snowball.  It ended badly for her :)

You'll notice Zydeco is missing.  He's smart.  He stayed inside, stayed warm, and stayed dry.  Jig started the adventure with a hat...somehow it ended up on the mini snowman.  Jig is now sporting an awesome case of eczema from the cold...

Apparently, that's how we roll.

Song lyrics from the Zac Brown Band.

Jesus in disguise

Happy New Year to all my friends and family! You may have noticed that no Christmas greeting card was sent from this Domestic Church. It was on the list of things to do....but the picture taking attempt was abysmal and time became short and precious. My hope is to send Valentine Cards to all we know, reminding them how much we love and appreciate them.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Meanwhile, back in the Domestic Church, we spent our weeks off together laughing and lounging in pajamas. As we prepared to reenter the worlds of school and work, we celebrated Epiphany a day early with wonderful readings during Mass. I really enjoy how our Church coordinates the Old Testament, the Psalms, the New Testament, and the Gospel readings each Sunday to present a unified message. (Sunday's readings are listed here, if you are interested.) One of our newest deacons proclaimed the Gospel and delivered a spectacular homily. He traced a bit of the Kings' paths across desert lands and pointed out their unfailing desire to pay homage to an unknown King - one of a different ethnicity and of possibly a different god. He pointed out their willingness to accept this unknown child as an equal.

Then Deacon Dave reminded us all that we are called to accept one another as equals - each made in the image of God.

That hit home in this household of "he's teasing me!", "she's taunting me!", and so on.

During dinner Sunday evening, we revisited the message of the homily and readings. We discussed it's impact and implication on not only our family, but also the people of our community and workplaces. Frankly, we don't always agree or like those we work alongside.  Do you? Be honest :)

Jazz perked up and interjected, "it's like Jesus in Disguise!"

I think I heard angels singing as I realized my daughter was quoting song lyrics. Yes! The crazy gene is definitely spreading into the next generation. I praised her for quoting Brandon Heath's lyrics.

"Oh, no, Mama. That's from Diary of a Wimpy Kid."

Crushed. I'm so crushed!

To brighten your day on a cold, blustery day, here's a sunny surprise:

We are expected to hit a record low tomorrow.  Apparently, we've not been this cold since 1890something or another.  Since it doesn't come with snow or pretty ice drenched foliage, I am planning to stay inside and bundled, clutching mugs of hot coffee or tea, and dreaming of steamy August days.  Those of you experiencing "real winter" (i.e. Aunt Karen), you are allowed to roll your eyes and laugh.

Be warm.

Today's post title from Brandon Heath's Jesus in Disguise, or from Diary of a Wimpy Kid , depending on your level of crazy.

Be prepared for the day God will - Come, Come, Emmanuel

With the beginning of Advent following so closely on the heels of Thanksgiving, we really tried to separate the two and make each celebration distinct. We started Thanksgiving morning at our YMCA, helping to prepare the site for the many meals it would serve homeless or unsettled members of our community. Classic Rock and Zydeco, along with Irish Jig, oversaw the games and play time in the gym for any young children that visited. Mr. Neoclassic was assigned to turkey and ham carving, and Jazz and I manned the bread slicing station. We also helped to box and prepare about 160 meals to be delivered to all the first responders on duty around the City. There was much laughter and sharing as we worked along with other families, a group of young enlisted from Langley AFB, and many Y staff members.

Later in the day, after baking loaves of bread (me) and creating cranberry sauce and bread pudding (Mr. Neo), we joined our good friends for a feast at their home. Their four children almost match in age with ours, making the day joyful for everyone involved. The youngest chased, gamed, and giggled themselves into naps, while the oldest joined the adults for hilarious conversation. Also joining us were Padre Michael and Francisco who were visiting from their home in the mountains of Guatemala. Beginning several years ago, our church parish has been "twinned" with their church parish. We provide support and aid, when needed, as well as pray with and for their congregation. Classic Rock, well into his third year of Spanish, was able to converse very well with our friends. Our hostess speaks fluent Spanish and teaches the language at both the middle school and university levels. She was wonderful at translating back and forth during the day. Padre Michael was quite amused that my three years of Catholic high school Spanish yielded only the ability to ask for a cold beer, locate a bathroom, and recite the Daily Offering to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. A prayer that I noted I didn't even know in English. His amusement was that it wasn't a prayer he was familiar with, either :)

Amazingly, they weren't hungry at dinnertime, but were famished for dessert!

The Friday after Thanksgiving marks our family's official start to Christmas with the appearance of our elf, Sweeney.  We don't use him to threaten good behavior, but to heighten the excitement of the season.  He started the year with a soothing bubble bath:

photo by Jazz as part of her Girl Scout badge homework

We made our cookies and gathered for cocoa, laughter and wish lists.  Our children came to understand many years ago that asking and receiving were in no way related.  They can wish for the moon - or in Jazz's case this year a real horse - but will receive what is most appropriate.  Sorry, babe, no horse this year!

We celebrated the first day of Advent a bit early since I had been scheduled to sing at our parish's 5 PM Mass Saturday evening.  Our gathering hymn is the one I've chosen for this blog post, the Advent Gathering Song.  Eastern Mennonite University has put together a beautiful version of it here.  I find myself humming it all day now.

As Mass proceeded and we shared in the blessing and lighting of the Advent wreath, Irish Jig started to melt down.  A series of long days and too much sugar did not combine well with sitting on the first pew while Mama sang.  I started to hear a bit of whining while I stood at the microphone waiting to sing various responses during the consecration.  The whining got louder and I quickly peeked behind me to see Classic Rock holding a fiesty Irish Jig.  Just as I was preparing to signal Mr. Neo with the "take her out NOW" distress code, I heard that little tinny voice announce:

"It's a boogie!  A boogie on my finger!  Take it off!  Take it off!"

As the pew behind them erupted in laughter, I grabbed a tissue (thankfully nearby) and cleaned up the offending finger.  The musicians proceeded to shake with laughter as we not so gracefully slipped into the Lamb of God....

I hope the start to your family's Advent was just as memorable, if not a tad more prayerful.

Something close to nothing

As Mr. Neoclassic left for work this morning, he reminded the boys to edge and mow the yards. Classic Rock opted to do the edging and Zydeco agreed to take on the mowing. As I made breakfast, Classic Rock headed out in the cooler morning weather to do his part. Zydeco decided to attack his portion later in the day.

When Mr. Neoclassic arrived home from work not long ago, he tracked Zydeco down and inquired about the lawn status.

Mr. Neo (with righteous indignation):

"What, exactly, have you been doing all day since you weren't mowing?"

Zydeco's response (with a smile):

"Something close to nothing, but different than the day before!"

I love a good application of song lyrics!  Part of me was so proud and a (smaller) part of me was appalled at his level of sassy.

But then, he comes by it genetically.  And he did go mow.


Today's post title (and sassy reply) from Prince's Raspberry Beret!

Summer, summer, summer, it's like a merry-go-round

Summer in the House of Lame/ Electic House of Awesomeness is proving to be quite a merry-go-round of activity.   Months ago, without really contemplating the ramifications of over-scheduling, I agreed to a sailing trip, various Scout camps, art camp, swim lessons, mission trips, and an actual all-play family trip.  Then I pulled out the calendar to mark all these dates down and realized people were coming and going on a near-daily basis. Gah!   Just planning lunches requires me to stop and count actual heads in the house - and many times there are a few non-House of Lame peeps to be included.

This week, all of my children have actually been in residence, and I have been constantly amused.  The boys accompanied me on a late evening run to the pharmacy and grocery.  As we finished at the pharmacy and turned to head into the grocery area, Zydeco waved his arms in the air and chanted "Deli samples, deli samples"  while running off toward the deli.   Classic Rock strolled next me and, with a deadpan tone, remarked "I don't know that I would have taken the feminine hygiene products aisle and been that excited."

And that's why I miss him when he's sailing or at camp or on a mission trip!

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Last Saturday was a house cleaning/ chore finishing/ yard work type of day.  We were watching a sweet little friend of Irish Jig's and tending to various projects inside and outside.  Children were trading their television usage and, during a time that the program wasn't preschooler appropriate, Irish Jig and Samuel had their block building fun moved into the main hallway.  Imagine a hundred or so wooden blocks and two small people scattered up and down the hallway.  In the midst of this, I was folding towels at the kitchen table and starting dinner preps.  The doorbell rings.  Two very clean cut, white button down, black tied gentleman were standing on the doorstep.  Smiling even though they were dripping in late afternoon humidity, they greeted me warily.  We don't live in a high Mormon area, so they never know what type of welcome they'll get.  Lucky for Elder Smith and his buddy (I can't remember his name!), they got me :)

"Come on in, guys!  It's hot and you could use a break." Says I.

"Do you know who we are?"  Says Elder Smith, tentatively.

"You're The Mormons!  We're the Catholics!  I promise we can get along.  Come have something cold to drink and maybe even to eat."  Says I.

And so began a delightful half hour.  I guided them through the landmine of blocks and around the basket of laundry (thankfully towels and not undies, ha).  They chatted about their new Meeting House in the area.  Classic Rock asked some questions and then seemed surprised that I knew the answers.  Hello?  Your mother has a life and is quite intelligent.  Most of the time, anyway.  They asked us some questions and promised to make sure the missionaries actually assigned to our neighborhood knew we were a welcoming house.

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When our Girl Scout troop adventure had to be cancelled due to impending thunderstorms, Jazz and I were invited to accompany my co-leader and her children on an adventure.  We started with the intention of touring Endview Plantation, only to discover it closed.  We quickly improvised a visit to the Jamestown Glass Blowers.  The children enjoyed watching the craftsmen work the molten glass into treasures.

We arrived back at our home as the torrential rains began.  Being Girl Scout leaders, we were prepared for inside time with a craft!  We used Sharpie markers on plain white tiles, then sprayed the tiles with isopropyl alcohol and watched the colors spread.  I added felt feet to ours and we have a whole set of dinner coasters now.  While the finished tiles were sprayed with a fixative and a lacquer coat, we find that the color does scratch off.

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Zydeco decided that we should increase our vocabulary and challenge our minds.  Apparently, the daily maths sheets I'd assigned weren't enough work for him.  I found this in the kitchen a few days ago.  Once I corrected the spelling of "sentences" we were in business.

Each morning, there's a discussion about what the word of the day should be.  Some mornings, Classic Rock throws a ringer up there before the rest of us are awake.  Vernacular?  That's a Classic Rock choice.  Zydeco chooses "wheedle", "maw", and "gratuitous".  I have fun concocting sentences.

"My children attempted to wheedle their mother into visiting the snowball stand.

They were sadly unsuccessful."

"I have considered rearranging the dinner table seating in order to avoid gazing

into the gaping maw of my oldest child."

"My children were treated to a gratuitous baking of chocolate chip cookies."

They do not appreciate my humor.

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During the week, the boys and Mr. Neoclassic have been collecting all of their Scout camp needs.  They leave on Sunday for a week of merit badge earning, sailing lessons, and camp food (yuck).  I readied myself for their departure by visiting the paint section of Home Depot (gallons are $5 off this week, BTW).  My husband should be afraid, very afraid.


What's making your summer so hilarious your sides ache daily????

Today's post title from The Cars' Magic

Here at my side

Do anybody else sew like this?

At least this one's busy with her own project.

A needlework stocking from Nana.

After stressing the "how-to" for far too long, I jumped in and free motion quilted.

With my helper occasionally gunning down the pedal, it was an interesting adventure!

Today's post title from Tenth Avenue North's By Your Side.

Our house, in the middle of our street

Actually, our house IS in the middle of our street – well, our block. I thought it would be fun to share more about our household. You already know who’s in the household and that most of us are sarcastic, song and movie quoting smart alecks.  Here are a few facts you might not know about our household.

Sometime in the last decade (maybe 8 years ago?), we decided to eliminate cable tv from our home. We realized the children really only watched PBS Kids so the remaining channels were wasted. We didn't watch most network evening television because we don’t like the whole reality tv movement. I could get on my soapbox here, but won’t digress. The boys enjoyed the occasional Dirty Jobs or Mythbusters episode, but the cost of cable was higher than our desire for those shows.

Thus, we cancelled the cable and Mr. Neoclassic scaled the chimney and installed a huge antenna. We bought a converter box for our non-HD tv, accepted that television watching would involve at least three remotes, and moved on. Meanwhile, due to an electrical glitch that takes too long to explain (i.e. I’m not sure I really understand), we realized that only one phone jack in the entire house worked. This was fine since we had a cordless system with two or three handsets.

Then the handsets died, one by one, at the hands of small children and random accidents (they don’t survive the wash cycle). We plugged an old-fashioned corded phone into the one working jack and vowed to buy a new cordless. But then, we didn’t. Friends knew that if I didn’t answer the phone they should try again in 10 minutes. I was probably upstairs changing a diaper or such and just didn’t make it down to answer the corded, ancient phone. In the meantime, they could leave a message on the answering machine!

I need to state that the adults and Classic Rock (at age 12) had cell phones. That is, phones that make calls and send texts. Not phones that are small computers. That would mean entering the technological age and we just couldn't have that.

At some point during this stretch of non-electronics age voodoo, our toaster oven expelled black smoke and died. I aired the kitchen, vowed to replace it and….didn't. Several years later, I still make toast by kicking on the oven and putting slices of bread on a pizza screen.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention the computer situation during those years. The adults in the house shared a laptop that wasn't a laptop because its  internal battery had died.  It resided, always plugged in, on the bar counter in the kitchen, making surfing very uncomfortable and explaining my lack of Pinterest pins. The children shared a desk top computer that was generally monopolized by Classic Rock’s school work requirements.

All of these issues led poor, socially isolated, and frustrated Zydeco to declare our house “THE HOUSE OF LAME!” We laughed and took this as a moniker of sorts. “Oh, I’m sorry, we've never seen Dancing with the Stars because we’re the house of lame.” Or, “We don’t know what a PS3 is because we’re the house of lame.”  Or, "We'd call, but the one phone is dead because we're the house of lame."

Interestingly, our children’s friends seem to enjoy gathering at our house, despite its record of lameness. We open our doors, our pantry, and our game cabinet to welcome friends and make them feel comfortable. The boys enjoy inviting friends over for movie nights, even though the tv has a tube is only 27 inches! They know I’ll make popcorn (on the stove) and serve their favorite chips.   Jazz’s neighborhood buddy, whose own house boasts cable, gaming systems, and other exciting media, loves to be in our backyard where they are free to dig in the dirt pile and create imaginary worlds of fun.

After my husband’s recent Facebook update about another facet of lameness, a good friend responded with the following comment:

”You’re not the House of Lame, you’re the House of Eclectic Awesomeness!”

That sounds so much better!

How is your household counter-cultural? That's what we're claiming really drives our Eclectic Awesomeness.  Otherwise, we're just lame :)

Today's post title from Madness' Our House.

**PS - There are no pictures today just to enhance the whole idea of lameness!

Lord, I'm sorry; please forgive me

Dear Lord,

Several weeks ago, I joyously celebrated the Sacrament of Reconciliation. This time, our new pastor was present to assist me. You know that I enjoy this opportunity to reflect and pray, and in the past I've celebrated with sweet little Fr. Peter [he's actually little, so it's okay to say that]. Fr. Peter has always made this celebration wonderful by including hugs, wonderful words of encouragement and the direction to always remember that I am Holy and Happy in You. Just direction - that was key.

Celebrating with Fr. John David was also wonderful and I thank you for the experience. Unfortunately, Fr. John David didn't get your most Holy and Important memo about penance [for me] being "a reminder" and not "a task". I left with directions to "BE STILL AND KNOW" several times daily over the next two weeks.

You know me, Lord...when am I ever STILL in order to KNOW? I tried each day to sit. I focused on a cherished cross; I focused on the Pieta statue left to us by my grandmother; and I read the daily assigned Gospel in order to provide a focus point of thought. Inevitably, I found myself nodding off, making a grocery list, mentally reviewing the list of things to do (in it's Excel form, of course), or being interrupted by a small blond creation of your making.

A month into this time of Penitential Zen and I was no closer to finishing up this "task". Until today....

Because today, I spent two hours of Penitential Zen pretending to be a princess Mama. I had to dress the part, including shoes with heels and a princess hat (see blond braided hat above). I was chosen to be the carriage driver for the horse drawn carriage that took us to the ball. That's right - a ball. Where I had to dance - one, two, three, one, two, three - and have light refreshments - which I had to provide as there's no servant here. Oh wait, it's me. A ball that included an art lesson with an attitudinal tutor who didn't appreciate my folk art approach to sketching.

Therefore, due to the aforementioned hours of Zen, I am declaring us even. The whole penance thing is done. Completed. Fulfilled. There will be no more.

I will still read your daily Gospels and discuss them with my children. That keeps me Holy and Happy in You and I like that. As for Reconciliation, though, I think I'll be checking the priest assignments from now on. I'm just sayin'.

Your loving Servant and refreshment provider,

Princess Mama

Today's post title from Tom Booth's/ Jenny Pixler's/ Anothony Kuner's Sacred Silence.  This song is the best bedtime lullaby, by the way.

Red Solo Cup

Yes, my friends, "red solo cup" is a song and it's relevance to today's post will be made clear to y'all very shortly. Yesterday, Jannette and I stormed the quilt show with cash and camera in hand. And by "stormed", I really mean "dodged little old but vocal women on scooters or wheeling luggage carts of purchases." Apparently, this quilt show crowd is a vicious lot.

Our first stop was the awesome vintage button and trims booth. We dug through baskets of brightly colored buttons to find the few that struck our fancy. We offered to become buyers for the shop keeper, but she saw through our guise and knew we'd just walk off with the bling.

Wave Hi! to Jannette :)

As we strolled away with our purchases, avidly chatting about what we'd create with said buttons, Jannette caught a glimpse of a quilt and jokingly said, "Hah! It's raining men."

 Apparently, it was:

It was actually titled "It's Raining Men". Do any of you remember that song from the 80's? I remember the somewhat disconcerting video on MTV! We'd stumbled into a section of quilts that were entered into the Song Lyrics competition. We saw one titled "Greensleeves" with a 3D matador's shirt, complete with green sleeves of course. We saw a black horse nibbling from a cherry tree as a nod toward this song. But here's a pictorial of our favorites - and I use that term loosely....

It was an itsy bitsy teeny weeny yellow polka dot bikini!

The stitching and detailing on this one was very well executed.

Purple Rain!

Complete with purple rain beading and puddles.

We were thinking it would be better with Prince and a guitar.

Red Solo Cup!

At this point, we were hiding in the alcove of quilt displays, bent over double, with legs crossed laughing out loud.  Some passing woman looked at us disapprovingly, then glanced at the red cups and gasped, "Oh dear Lord that's hideous!"  Hey, we never said any of them were hideous.  They were just out of our realm of normality for fiber arts - and very very humorous in their presentation. 

I will be back Sunday with a look at some of the more traditional type quilts, as well as a few art quilts for Karen's sake.  A new presser foot jumped into my bag, as did some awesomely sweet fabrics.  I'll have to share the loot later.

So much to say, so much to say

I have no less than six blog posts saved in various phases of completion.  Some are random stories of the happenings in this crazy household (like Irish Jig getting into a container of paint and the new red bathroom cabinet), while some are recently completed crafting projects.  Others are very important soap box type ramblings that I feel the need to share with you.

My inability to actually finish one simple post is a result of my fractured attention span.  While February is usually a slow month of waiting for Spring, we've actually been busy all the time here - or so it seems.  Zydeco's trying a new team sport, there are numerous Scouting activities (Boy and Girl), Girl Scout Cookie sales are ramping up, sicknesses are rotating, and school projects keep appearing.  With so much busy occurring, my mind can't seem to settle on one item for very long.  The phrasings, comebacks, retorts, questions, and discussions of the recent weeks keep repeating in my mind. Some are just funny, others have me perplexed and, well, some just make me roll my eyes and bite my tongue.

This has nothing to do with the post. I'm just excited to see our Lenten Rose blooming.

In lieu of my finishing a half completed post, I thought I'd share some of the nuggets of wisdom floating around this Domestic Church:

• Irish Jig to me while driving: "Do trees have brains?"  Part of me thinks she's a genius at the tender age of 3.  The rest of me wonders what she overheard from a sibling.
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• Zydeco attended a "meet and greet" for his new Flag Football team.  After participating in a team activity geared toward learning names and backgrounds, we piled into the car to warm up (it was a balmy 27 F that morning) and head back home.  When asked about his new team mates, he responded that we might need to check and make sure he's allowed to play in this league.  "Why?" we asked....."Because the other kids on my team are home schooled.  I feel left out."  That's usually what you'd hear from the home schooled child!
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• Following Communion at the Youth Mass on Sunday, Irish Jig perched on Classic Rock's shoulder to sing along with the hymn - Mighty to Save.  Following the song, Classic Rock leaned over to inform me that, according to Irish Jig, "my God is tiny to bathe."
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• While talking to a friend at a party, I was introduced to two very important family terms:

1. Planned-Overs, n, the intentional remains of family dinner with an express purpose for use later in the week.  Those children found eating said Planned-overs for an after school snack will have their hands smacked and will be responsible for providing a meal in the now-empty Planned-overs menu spot.
2. Disaster-roles, n, the meals made with forethought and frozen for the express purpose of using on a day when the whole schedule falls apart.  You know those days - you wind up in the ER at 4 PM; you find a child coated in red paint and a bathroom cabinet needing immediate attention; the completed school project is eaten by the family pet - disaster days.  Never fear, a disaster-role can be plucked from the depths of the freezer and a healthy meal will appear on the table anyway.  

• When one of my sweet little Brownies responded to my question with "Yeah", Jazz jumped in before I could react.  "My Mama really doesn't like YEAH.  You need to say YES or YES MA'AM."  Lesson learned.  (This story is much better if you make YEAH a two-syllable Southern word, i.e. yeh-ah)
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• Classic Rock was awarded third prize in a short story contest sponsored by a local woman's club.  When Mr. Neoclassic, Classic Rock and I arrived at the awards luncheon, we realized he was the only male to receive an award.  We spent the afternoon wondering if they'd realized he was a male when they choose his story!  Additionally, I realized that I knew many of the club's members from our church and from the YMCA.  They wanted to know when I was planning to join.  I didn't have the heart to mention that their youngest member still qualifies for Social Security.  Maybe in another twenty years?  (PS - His story was quite excellent and I was really proud.)

Again, no relation to post.  Just love the promise of Spring popping through.

It's electric!

I've spent the last five days nursing the constant coughing and listless Mr. Neoclassic and Zydeco. We've visited doctors three times and have picked up about five prescriptions. Add bottomless pots of herbal tea and glasses of juice, and my week is rounded out. I have found my days are spent just puttering about, tending the [vocal, whiny] sick, keeping up with the household needs and those other pesky children, and indulging in bits of crafting whimsy along the way.

It's one of those bits of whimsy that I'll share here today. As the temperature drops and the flannel and fleece make an appearance, the static in the laundry reaches shocking new heights. Ha ha - give me a break, I haven't seen "real" people in days. I don't typically use dryer static sheets or any sort of liquid additive. My mother, the textile archivist, preaches against these as they degrade the fabrics. [Shhh, don't tell, but I keep Outdoor Fresh Bounce in the cabinet for the after-Scout-camping-laundry]

Anyway, I have seen dryer balls on the internet and wondered how well they worked. There's the plastic ones and the all wool ones. Since I happened to have a stash of wool roving with no real purpose, I decided to experiment. I followed this tutorial for a few made from wool yarn and some general guidelines for creating felted wool balls from roving. I had to cold water wash my roving first because it was a generous gift from a yoga buddy who owns alpacas. I didn't want my laundry smelling like sun-burned alpaca fur!

Alpaca roving, ready to go

The results?? The static in the laundry is greatly decreased, but not eliminated. I wonder if I need to add more balls to each load? I have been using two per load and mine are a bit smaller than the ones I've seen on Etsy, for example. I will continue to experiment, but please let me know if you've used any type of dryer balls. I will note that I just don't like the look of the simple wrapped yarn ball (below, upper left). I like the more felted, melded look. I crocheted a tiny spiral ball and stuffed it with strands of the same yarn - just for a better appearance (below, lower left).

Pottery bowl by Classic Rock (circa 5th grade)

As I picked what song lyric to use, I couldn't help but think back to our wedding reception. I danced to the Electric Slide with Mr. Doug, a long-time family friend who's children I'd babysat. We laughed as we danced and he reminded me to enjoy marriage - promising that it would be fun. Then, we did the slide, side step thingie and I stepped on the hem of my wedding gown, ripping a portion of the lace hem. I looked up to see my mother's face contort in horror as she watched dozens of pearled beads slide across the floor. She had spent the two months leading up to the wedding hand beading the six or seven yards of lace that hemmed the train of my dress.

Mama, having spent several hours beading for my own beloved child, I now understand the horror you felt. Is it too late to say, I'm sorry?

Don't close your eyes

I did several loads of laundry yesterday, rejoicing in almost empty bins. I patted myself on the back and moved along with my day.

Later in the afternoon, I "reminded" (some might say admonished) my children to tend to their chores and I left to run a quick errand. While driving, I heard This is Your Life by Switchfoot. I sang along, enjoying the tune and the down time.

When I returned home, I found the laundry room looking like this:

I admit to an internal groan :) Then I remembered the line from the song I'd heard - "Don't close your eyes.....this is your life." Laundry's just another part of what makes this Domestic Church tick and, I reminded myself, it could be worse. Washing clothes could require hauling them to the river and beating them against the rocks. That would be my mother's theory resounding in my head!  Additionally, the laundry room looked like this because a child DID THEIR CHORES JOYFULLY! That's a reason to celebrate.

Another line of that song kept playing through my head, as well. "Are you who you want to be?" That's a heavy question, in my opinion. Are you happy where you are? Do you wish for more of something? Do you feel the loss of something? All good questions to ask ourselves as we navigate this life of family, faith, and - apparently - laundry.

Outside the snow is falling

Well, it's not falling just yet. The weather folks are forecasting that winter storm Iago will drop 2 to 5 inches of snow for our area, starting late this evening. My guess? By morning commute time, our sweet little town will look like this:

Since our winters don't usually (ha! ever!) look like this or this, any snow that falls results in massive panic attacks and traffic hiccups. That said, I've made the emergency run for milk, eggs, butter, coffee and chocolate. I'm ready to hunker down with a fire, Netflix, my lovely children and good books.  Oh, and King Cake, because I'm like the Post Office and neither rain nor snow will keep this baker from her appointed sugar high.

One last storm prep was to find time for a hair cut. I'm about seven inches shorter and about four pounds lighter :)

It's all about priorities, my friends!