Can you believe that four short years can take a person from this ...
... to this?
We love you, Riley-Cat!
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Oops
Only seven days into NaBloPoMo and I blew it! Out of sheer forgetfulness, too; I had plenty of time. We had dinner next door to celebrate Riley's fourth birthday, then came home, got the kids in bed, got in bed ourselves and read till we fell asleep. That's my kind of night!
Can you believe that four short years can take a person from this ...
We love you, Riley-Cat!
Can you believe that four short years can take a person from this ...
We love you, Riley-Cat!
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Legacy
We're back from Atlanta and an amazing celebration of Grandpa Loyd's incredibly full, well-lived life. There were some tears at the funeral, of course, but much more laughter, and that's just the way he would have wanted it. Probably a dozen or more people that I didn't know came up to me at the church or cemetery and basically just wanted to say what a wonderful family we have. I absolutely agree.
The pastor knew Grandpa very well and she did a fantastic job with the eulogy. I knew Grandpa had a habit of stopping and talking to his neighbors on his daily jogs around the neighborhood, but I didn't really realize until the funeral service what his visits had meant to many of them. His everyday life seems to have been full of ordinary kindnesses that made a huge impact on his friends. The pastor referenced various neighbors who recalled how he always brought their newspaper to the front porch or moved their garbage can from the curb back to the garage. When neighbors were sick he interrupted his run to check on them, bringing them their mail and refilling their water cups. And he was always quick with a compliment. One neighbor wrote:
"Marvin's visits to our home on his daily walks through Ashford Park were the highlight of our day. Marvin took great interest in his friends in our neighborhood and never forgot a name or story. He was a gifted listener and taught me the importance and reward of taking the time to stop and fellowship with others. He also modeled quiet service and acts of kindness everyday. Our sons learned many valuable lessons about service and friendship through his example. God's light and love shone through him every day. Our family will honor Marvin and his memory by showing God's love to our neighbors."
What a legacy. What an inspiration.
The pastor knew Grandpa very well and she did a fantastic job with the eulogy. I knew Grandpa had a habit of stopping and talking to his neighbors on his daily jogs around the neighborhood, but I didn't really realize until the funeral service what his visits had meant to many of them. His everyday life seems to have been full of ordinary kindnesses that made a huge impact on his friends. The pastor referenced various neighbors who recalled how he always brought their newspaper to the front porch or moved their garbage can from the curb back to the garage. When neighbors were sick he interrupted his run to check on them, bringing them their mail and refilling their water cups. And he was always quick with a compliment. One neighbor wrote:
"Marvin's visits to our home on his daily walks through Ashford Park were the highlight of our day. Marvin took great interest in his friends in our neighborhood and never forgot a name or story. He was a gifted listener and taught me the importance and reward of taking the time to stop and fellowship with others. He also modeled quiet service and acts of kindness everyday. Our sons learned many valuable lessons about service and friendship through his example. God's light and love shone through him every day. Our family will honor Marvin and his memory by showing God's love to our neighbors."
What a legacy. What an inspiration.
Monday, November 5, 2012
Sunday, November 4, 2012
Sleepy
It's been a long day, but a good one. For once we were sort of OK with the kids missing the memo about the extra hour of sleep that most people associate with the end of daylight savings time, because the early morning meant we got on the road at a decent hour without having to rush. We actually only stopped twice -- once for lunch, once for cheap South Carolina gas -- so we were in Atlanta by 3 p.m. and even had time for all four of us to doze before dinner. The DVD player in the car was less life-changing than I expected, but it was useful -- probably bought us at least an hour of relative quiet.
The kids are sound asleep now and we're ready to be too, so I'm signing off. I can't believe when we wake up tomorrow Evan will be 2!
P.S. Grandpa Loyd's obituary is online at http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/atlanta/obituary.aspx?n=marvin-loyd&pid=160803959. The man packed a lot into 98 years.
The kids are sound asleep now and we're ready to be too, so I'm signing off. I can't believe when we wake up tomorrow Evan will be 2!
P.S. Grandpa Loyd's obituary is online at http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/atlanta/obituary.aspx?n=marvin-loyd&pid=160803959. The man packed a lot into 98 years.
Saturday, November 3, 2012
Packing
We're in full-on late-night go-mode here, packing to leave for Atlanta in the morning, but I'm keeping the NaBloPoMo dream alive.
We decided to drive Matt's car this time since it's a little roomier for the long ride, so Matt switched the car seats over while I went through heaps of clean laundry. Then he did something magical: He got the DVD player in his car to work. And then he got the headphones for it to work. Meaning, theoretically, the kids can watch TV in silence for some of the ride.
We bought his car used and the DVD player was broken when we got it and for some reason that we can no longer remember we thought it was a complicated (and/or expensive) fix so we just never messed with it. I sure am glad he took another look tonight. We only have two kids' DVDs ("Happy Feet" and something unopened from a Chick-fil-A kids' meal) but hopefully we can borrow some from our lovely next-door neighbors first thing tomorrow.
Perfect timing, dahling. If we play this right maybe it can even count as Evan's birthday present (he turns 2 on Monday). Score!
We decided to drive Matt's car this time since it's a little roomier for the long ride, so Matt switched the car seats over while I went through heaps of clean laundry. Then he did something magical: He got the DVD player in his car to work. And then he got the headphones for it to work. Meaning, theoretically, the kids can watch TV in silence for some of the ride.
We bought his car used and the DVD player was broken when we got it and for some reason that we can no longer remember we thought it was a complicated (and/or expensive) fix so we just never messed with it. I sure am glad he took another look tonight. We only have two kids' DVDs ("Happy Feet" and something unopened from a Chick-fil-A kids' meal) but hopefully we can borrow some from our lovely next-door neighbors first thing tomorrow.
Perfect timing, dahling. If we play this right maybe it can even count as Evan's birthday present (he turns 2 on Monday). Score!
Friday, November 2, 2012
98
Grandpa Loyd was a grandfather to brag about, and I’ve never
hesitated to do so. Heck, for the past decade or so, his age alone was a point
of pride.
He was a runner – not just your run-of-the-mill jogging retiree, but a racer, and a winner, with walls full of medals, certificates, trophies, plaques and laminated newspaper write-ups to prove it. When I was young, I was amazed at the sheer quantity of race T-shirts he had accumulated, all stored in a spare bedroom. Whenever our family visited, Amanda and I were allowed to pick out a shirt to take home with us.
I was proud of Grandpa Loyd’s participation in the Senior Olympics, not to mention many local races and countless neighborhood jogs. I remember one time he ran a race while our family was in town and we all went to lunch at Shoney’s afterward. Grandpa skipped the “real food” and went straight to the hot-fudge sundae; he’d certainly earned it.
A few years later, as I hit high school and started to self-identify as a runner, he was a great inspiration. When you know your 80-something grandfather is pounding out a 5k a day, you’re more inclined to stick to your own training schedule. And I’ve always felt like I was in some way carrying on a Loyd family tradition by running. If I’m so blessed as to run for the rest of my life, I know it will always remind me of him.
Something else that immediately comes to mind when I think about Grandpa Loyd is what a great conversationalist he was. He was a mile-a-minute, never-met-a-stranger kind of talker, and I loved that about him. Talking with him was always interesting, and I suspect a large part of his secret was that he was interested – in seemingly everything and everyone. Grandpa Loyd knew numerous neighbors thanks to his running and walking habit – not just a face and a first name, but usually a decent chunk of details. They knew him too, and they watched out for him, and they cared about him. The same goes for those who knew him through church, his military service and his favorite restaurants, where he and Grandma Loyd were regulars. Did we ever eat at the Picadilly without someone stopping by our table to chat with him?
I will never forget the time Grandma and Grandpa Loyd were visiting our family and we were all in line at Hardee’s when, Grandpa being Grandpa, he struck up a conversation with the teenage boy in front of him. When the teenager heard Grandpa was from Atlanta, he exclaimed that he knew someone from Atlanta: Ellis Loyd. Grandpa being Grandpa, he replied, “That’s my son!” (The teenager was a Camp Cherokee alum.)
I have many more memories of Grandpa Loyd, from being awed by his “celebrity” car, to him and Grandma dancing in the living room after Christmas parties, to the cheese toast I always looked forward to him making us on the last morning of a visit. He was thrifty and witty and sharp as a tack. He loved his family, and we loved him. I’m so proud and thankful to be his granddaughter.
Marvin Loyd, May 14, 1914-Nov. 1, 2012
He was a runner – not just your run-of-the-mill jogging retiree, but a racer, and a winner, with walls full of medals, certificates, trophies, plaques and laminated newspaper write-ups to prove it. When I was young, I was amazed at the sheer quantity of race T-shirts he had accumulated, all stored in a spare bedroom. Whenever our family visited, Amanda and I were allowed to pick out a shirt to take home with us.
I was proud of Grandpa Loyd’s participation in the Senior Olympics, not to mention many local races and countless neighborhood jogs. I remember one time he ran a race while our family was in town and we all went to lunch at Shoney’s afterward. Grandpa skipped the “real food” and went straight to the hot-fudge sundae; he’d certainly earned it.
A few years later, as I hit high school and started to self-identify as a runner, he was a great inspiration. When you know your 80-something grandfather is pounding out a 5k a day, you’re more inclined to stick to your own training schedule. And I’ve always felt like I was in some way carrying on a Loyd family tradition by running. If I’m so blessed as to run for the rest of my life, I know it will always remind me of him.
Something else that immediately comes to mind when I think about Grandpa Loyd is what a great conversationalist he was. He was a mile-a-minute, never-met-a-stranger kind of talker, and I loved that about him. Talking with him was always interesting, and I suspect a large part of his secret was that he was interested – in seemingly everything and everyone. Grandpa Loyd knew numerous neighbors thanks to his running and walking habit – not just a face and a first name, but usually a decent chunk of details. They knew him too, and they watched out for him, and they cared about him. The same goes for those who knew him through church, his military service and his favorite restaurants, where he and Grandma Loyd were regulars. Did we ever eat at the Picadilly without someone stopping by our table to chat with him?
I will never forget the time Grandma and Grandpa Loyd were visiting our family and we were all in line at Hardee’s when, Grandpa being Grandpa, he struck up a conversation with the teenage boy in front of him. When the teenager heard Grandpa was from Atlanta, he exclaimed that he knew someone from Atlanta: Ellis Loyd. Grandpa being Grandpa, he replied, “That’s my son!” (The teenager was a Camp Cherokee alum.)
I have many more memories of Grandpa Loyd, from being awed by his “celebrity” car, to him and Grandma dancing in the living room after Christmas parties, to the cheese toast I always looked forward to him making us on the last morning of a visit. He was thrifty and witty and sharp as a tack. He loved his family, and we loved him. I’m so proud and thankful to be his granddaughter.
Marvin Loyd, May 14, 1914-Nov. 1, 2012
Thursday, November 1, 2012
NaBloPoMo?
When I was a kid, we didn't go trick-or-treating, per se, since we lived not in a neighborhood but on 10 acres that felt (three decades ago, and from a kid's perspective) like the middle of nowhere. Instead, Halloweens usually consisted of some combination of a church "fall festival" and hopping in the car to make the rounds to grandparents, assorted relatives and family friends. Needless to say, we scored a lot of candy.
Matt's Halloweens growing up were more traditional: Every year he and his brothers met up with a group of friends from his neighborhood and they hit up all the houses in walking distance. Then some of the parents drove them to other neighborhoods, where they piled out and repeated the process. So they ended up with a lot of candy too.
This is the first year both Claire and Evan were old enough to sort of understand the concept of trick-or-treating, so we went for it. We met up with Riley and Reece, plus Parker and Lila, whose parents are friends of ours and Jacob and Carrie's, and whose grandparents also happen to live on our street. Mom and Dad came by beforehand for photo ops and candy delivery, Carrie's mom and sisters joined us for the actual trick-or-treating, and we made our way up and down our street and a couple of others nearby.
I got a kick out of watching our little group race from house to house and door to door. After the first couple of houses, they realized there was no catch -- ring the doorbell, receive candy, move on -- and got a little giddy. And we adults were free to hang back and enjoy the show. The weather was nice, the kids were champs, and afterward, we all grilled hot dogs and dug into the loot. It was a good night.
Matt's Halloweens growing up were more traditional: Every year he and his brothers met up with a group of friends from his neighborhood and they hit up all the houses in walking distance. Then some of the parents drove them to other neighborhoods, where they piled out and repeated the process. So they ended up with a lot of candy too.
This is the first year both Claire and Evan were old enough to sort of understand the concept of trick-or-treating, so we went for it. We met up with Riley and Reece, plus Parker and Lila, whose parents are friends of ours and Jacob and Carrie's, and whose grandparents also happen to live on our street. Mom and Dad came by beforehand for photo ops and candy delivery, Carrie's mom and sisters joined us for the actual trick-or-treating, and we made our way up and down our street and a couple of others nearby.
I got a kick out of watching our little group race from house to house and door to door. After the first couple of houses, they realized there was no catch -- ring the doorbell, receive candy, move on -- and got a little giddy. And we adults were free to hang back and enjoy the show. The weather was nice, the kids were champs, and afterward, we all grilled hot dogs and dug into the loot. It was a good night.
Friday, September 28, 2012
Decluttering
Just thought I'd poke my head in and say hi. I have legitimately been too busy to blog lately, but I miss it, and I'm working on decluttering my days a little so I can get back to it. This was the summer of MCOGS mania (a Facebook garage-sale group) and I had a BLAST finding great finds all over town and selling them on the site. It paid for the kids' preschool all this year, and then some, so not a bad summer side job. But it takes a lot of time -- and worse, a lot of time on the computer -- and I'm ready to scale back. So now I'm organizing a yard sale next Saturday, the 6th, for everything I haven't sold by then. I'm trying to get our whole street in on it -- three households are in already -- and am hoping for a great turnout of buyers. Fingers crossed for a not-too-cold morning.
Evan's awake now, of course -- I swear he can sense when I click "new post." I'm off to kiss his cheeks. More later!
Evan's awake now, of course -- I swear he can sense when I click "new post." I'm off to kiss his cheeks. More later!
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Blank
It's a familiar story: I have a deadline looming large and I'm doing everything possible to avoid it. Hello, Facebook, toenail polish, Libba's apple dip and blog. My brain is overtired and I can't quite work myself up to tackling a blank Word document.
This is just one way in which I find editing to be so much easier than writing. Someone else has already done the hard part; all I have to do is make it good. In comparison, it's practically mindless.
The worst part of this story is that Matt's next door playing poker, and I almost invited a couple of people over for a mini-girls' night -- and then I decided not to because of these 4,000 unwritten words. What a waste!
That settles it. I'm going to go do what I can to redeem myself. Here's hoping the words flow.
This is just one way in which I find editing to be so much easier than writing. Someone else has already done the hard part; all I have to do is make it good. In comparison, it's practically mindless.
The worst part of this story is that Matt's next door playing poker, and I almost invited a couple of people over for a mini-girls' night -- and then I decided not to because of these 4,000 unwritten words. What a waste!
That settles it. I'm going to go do what I can to redeem myself. Here's hoping the words flow.
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Memory
Once in a great while I read a book so spectacular it ruins the next few for me. That's what happened with "The Glass Castle," by Jeannette Walls, which was so good I accidentally typed in "amazing.com" on my first attempt to find its Amazon link.
Although there are some memoirs I like, I have a history of failing to finish them, but this was definitely an exception. As soon as I read the last page I wanted to start again at the beginning. I didn't, but it's our September book club pick, and I probably will then. I had never heard of it before it came up in book club, but I'm so glad it came across my path, and I cannot recommend it highly enough. Buy it, don't borrow.
I have a couple of issues with most memoirs, one of which is that they bore me (they usually seem a little self-indulgent and overdramatic) and another of which is that I don't fully believe them. People went all crazy on James Frey with his "A Million Little Pieces," which I see is now being promoted as a "semi-fictional memoir," but apparently have no problem believing that Frank McCourt's recollection of dozens or hundreds of conversations and events dating back half a century, as recorded in "Angela's Ashes," is essentially accurate.
I doubt it. It seems to me that "semi-fictional" is implicit in "memoir." However, I know my memory is worse than most: It's a rare book or movie that I can recall in ANY detail a few months after finishing it, and I couldn't perfectly recreate a conversation I had five minutes ago. I have brought this up with a couple of friends and one of them claims she can recall entire conversations from years ago. I can't imagine how this is true, but she's credible, so it made me wonder. She credits (?) her ADD with her detailed memory.
Memory, of course, is only part of the problem. The truth of a person's past is inevitably blurred by his or her biases, misperceptions, motives and wishful thinking.
That's all I have to say about that. We're off to the outlets and then a late dinner -- likely back at Georgio's. Don't hate.
Although there are some memoirs I like, I have a history of failing to finish them, but this was definitely an exception. As soon as I read the last page I wanted to start again at the beginning. I didn't, but it's our September book club pick, and I probably will then. I had never heard of it before it came up in book club, but I'm so glad it came across my path, and I cannot recommend it highly enough. Buy it, don't borrow.
I have a couple of issues with most memoirs, one of which is that they bore me (they usually seem a little self-indulgent and overdramatic) and another of which is that I don't fully believe them. People went all crazy on James Frey with his "A Million Little Pieces," which I see is now being promoted as a "semi-fictional memoir," but apparently have no problem believing that Frank McCourt's recollection of dozens or hundreds of conversations and events dating back half a century, as recorded in "Angela's Ashes," is essentially accurate.
I doubt it. It seems to me that "semi-fictional" is implicit in "memoir." However, I know my memory is worse than most: It's a rare book or movie that I can recall in ANY detail a few months after finishing it, and I couldn't perfectly recreate a conversation I had five minutes ago. I have brought this up with a couple of friends and one of them claims she can recall entire conversations from years ago. I can't imagine how this is true, but she's credible, so it made me wonder. She credits (?) her ADD with her detailed memory.
Memory, of course, is only part of the problem. The truth of a person's past is inevitably blurred by his or her biases, misperceptions, motives and wishful thinking.
That's all I have to say about that. We're off to the outlets and then a late dinner -- likely back at Georgio's. Don't hate.
Friday, August 3, 2012
Getaway
Matt and I are at the beach celebrating our 10-year anniversary (a mere seven weeks late) and this long weekend is already wonderful. Five years ago we thought we'd celebrate 10 years with a trip to Europe. By a year ago we'd set our sights down a couple of notches, to Chicago, where I've never been. Six months ago that got downgraded to Greenville, S.C., where Matt's never been.
And then sometime around May 25 we were fantasizing about our anniversary getaway and realized all we really wanted to do was go somewhere we could bum. You can't go somewhere really awesome and feel good about sleeping late, reading all day, and indulging yourself with a nap whenever the mood strikes. You have to be somewhere like Myrtle Beach to be OK with that. And since that's exactly what we really wanted to do with our kid-free four days, Myrtle Beach is where we are.
Last night as soon as we got here we walked to Georgio's and downed a large greasy delicious pepperoni pizza and a pitcher of light beer. This morning we woke up at 7:30 by habit but stayed in bed as long as we could stand it just on principle. We got drive-through breakfast in our pajamas, watched the U.S. women's soccer game, read and eventually showered. No agenda, no obligations, no monitors. This is bliss.
Thank you, amazing family, for making this possible for us!
And then sometime around May 25 we were fantasizing about our anniversary getaway and realized all we really wanted to do was go somewhere we could bum. You can't go somewhere really awesome and feel good about sleeping late, reading all day, and indulging yourself with a nap whenever the mood strikes. You have to be somewhere like Myrtle Beach to be OK with that. And since that's exactly what we really wanted to do with our kid-free four days, Myrtle Beach is where we are.
Last night as soon as we got here we walked to Georgio's and downed a large greasy delicious pepperoni pizza and a pitcher of light beer. This morning we woke up at 7:30 by habit but stayed in bed as long as we could stand it just on principle. We got drive-through breakfast in our pajamas, watched the U.S. women's soccer game, read and eventually showered. No agenda, no obligations, no monitors. This is bliss.
Thank you, amazing family, for making this possible for us!
Monday, July 30, 2012
Again
I am not believing it's raining again! I love water and green grass as much as the next person but it feels like a month since I've gotten to run outside. Like clockwork lately: sunny morning, sunny afternoon, change into gym clothes, boom! It's pouring. I'd run outside anyway except that I have to take my phone with me. Being relegated to the treadmill (with cable) in an air-conditioned gym is clearly a first-world problem so I won't waste any more time complaining about it.
And ... Evan's up. Maybe I should consider abandoning blogging for tweeting?
And ... Evan's up. Maybe I should consider abandoning blogging for tweeting?
Monday, July 16, 2012
Short
It's been a crazy few weeks, full of birthday parties, playdates, traveling, deadlines, minor but lingering illnesses and a bit of drama, but all that's over now and it feels so good to be back to summer's usual slower pace.
Well, I got one sentence in before Evan woke up. That's better than nothing.
Well, I got one sentence in before Evan woke up. That's better than nothing.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Dawn
This is a ridiculous time of day to be blogging, but I woke up and couldn't fall back asleep and have never been a believer in lying in the bed sleeplessly for long. Anytime I have trouble sleeping, which is rare, it's much more effective for me to get up and read for a while than to lie in the dark and think about the minutes ticking away. Unfortunately, this morning I'll probably be making a big pot of coffee pretty soon instead of going back to bed.
There is so much I have been wanting to write about but it feels like every time I have a chance to sit at the computer lately there's work waiting for me. The last thing I want to do with any leftover time is look at a screen.
I am loving the slower pace of life this summer. Our days have been mainly unscheduled, and it makes all of us more relaxed. Things are about to be briefly crazy, albeit mainly with fun stuff -- Claire's birthday, the Fourth of July, a visit with our college group, a weekend trip with Mom and Amanda, and a story that's been hanging over my head for weeks -- but in two weeks the calm will return. I might even get my hair cut.
With this bonus time awake (which I will certainly bemoan by mid-morning) I will probably finally finish this month's book-club book, "The Devil in the White City: Murder, Magic, and Madness at the Fair that Changed America." And just in time for book club tonight. The book started out strong but I've been bogged down by the details since about the half-way mark.
But first I'm going to spend some time reading Colossians. I've been listening to a lot of John Piper while running lately, and he mentioned having divided this short book into 11 sections and then reading through it in one sitting, pausing to pray for a couple of minutes after each section. For someone like me who has a tendency to rush through Bible reading and prayer, this has been a great strategy for slowing down.
Birds are starting to chirp, so I'll get on that now.
There is so much I have been wanting to write about but it feels like every time I have a chance to sit at the computer lately there's work waiting for me. The last thing I want to do with any leftover time is look at a screen.
I am loving the slower pace of life this summer. Our days have been mainly unscheduled, and it makes all of us more relaxed. Things are about to be briefly crazy, albeit mainly with fun stuff -- Claire's birthday, the Fourth of July, a visit with our college group, a weekend trip with Mom and Amanda, and a story that's been hanging over my head for weeks -- but in two weeks the calm will return. I might even get my hair cut.
With this bonus time awake (which I will certainly bemoan by mid-morning) I will probably finally finish this month's book-club book, "The Devil in the White City: Murder, Magic, and Madness at the Fair that Changed America." And just in time for book club tonight. The book started out strong but I've been bogged down by the details since about the half-way mark.
But first I'm going to spend some time reading Colossians. I've been listening to a lot of John Piper while running lately, and he mentioned having divided this short book into 11 sections and then reading through it in one sitting, pausing to pray for a couple of minutes after each section. For someone like me who has a tendency to rush through Bible reading and prayer, this has been a great strategy for slowing down.
Birds are starting to chirp, so I'll get on that now.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Verbatim
Father’s Day 2012
By Claire Kirby
Tell me about Daddy. He likes bubbles. He likes chairs. He likes squares. He likes tape. Look at this [stands on the sit-n-spin]. Anything else? No. Oh, he even likes yo-yos.
What does Daddy do for work? Builds houses.
What do you like to do with Daddy? Tickle Daddy! And Daddy tickles me sometimes.
What is Daddy’s favorite thing to play with you? Ball.
What is Daddy’s favorite food? Cereal.
What is Daddy’s favorite drink? Koolaid.
What is Daddy’s favorite game? Soccer.
What is Daddy’s favorite song? “We Didn’t Start the Fire.”
Who is Daddy’s best friend? Riley. No, Ron-Ron.
What is Daddy really good at? Soccer playing.
What is Daddy really bad at? He’s really not bad at anything.
What is Daddy’s favorite color? Blue.
What is Daddy’s favorite room? The living room. ‘Cause it’s his favorite deal to watch Spiderman.
What does Daddy like to wear? He likes to wear Tar Heel shirts.
How much does Daddy love you? So much [spreads arms wide]. Why? ‘Cause forever.
How much do you love him? That much [spreads arms wide]. ‘Cause he’s my boy.
Tell me about Daddy. He likes bubbles. He likes chairs. He likes squares. He likes tape. Look at this [stands on the sit-n-spin]. Anything else? No. Oh, he even likes yo-yos.
What does Daddy do for work? Builds houses.
What do you like to do with Daddy? Tickle Daddy! And Daddy tickles me sometimes.
What is Daddy’s favorite thing to play with you? Ball.
What is Daddy’s favorite food? Cereal.
What is Daddy’s favorite drink? Koolaid.
What is Daddy’s favorite game? Soccer.
What is Daddy’s favorite song? “We Didn’t Start the Fire.”
Who is Daddy’s best friend? Riley. No, Ron-Ron.
What is Daddy really good at? Soccer playing.
What is Daddy really bad at? He’s really not bad at anything.
What is Daddy’s favorite color? Blue.
What is Daddy’s favorite room? The living room. ‘Cause it’s his favorite deal to watch Spiderman.
What does Daddy like to wear? He likes to wear Tar Heel shirts.
How much does Daddy love you? So much [spreads arms wide]. Why? ‘Cause forever.
How much do you love him? That much [spreads arms wide]. ‘Cause he’s my boy.
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Finished?
After much rearranging on the living room rug and many nail holes in multiple walls, here's how the frames project played out:
.JPG) |
| Over the living room couch |
.JPG) |
| In the breakfast nook (replacing the big white mirror, which is hanging in the landing. For now) |
Claire's take? "Mom, you forgot something there." "I left it empty on purpose." "Why?" "I like the way it looks." "I don't like it." "No?" "No. Can you please put something in there?"
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Frames
The fad of grouping empty frames as wall art has been around for a while, and now that I've jumped on the bandwagon, I don't know what took me so long. It meets all my criteria: 1. gives me an excuse to visit thrift stores 2. is very very inexpensive and 3. involves spray paint.
A few of these frames I already had, but most I bought for pocket change at either the ultra-cheap Bargain Barn behind the main Coalition building -- we're talking a dime per frame -- or my new favorite place, Adams Thrift Store in Pinebluff. (Incidentally, I think that's where Amanda made out so well with some of Bri's birthday presents.) It's packed to the brim with junk and gems, and the prices, which are already pretty reasonable, are astonishingly negotiable.
I got so enthusiastic about this project that I ended up with enough frames to fill the wall above the couch in our living room as well as another smaller area, probably upstairs, where there are blank walls galore. I wish I'd realized my overabundance before I painted all of them black, but at least the lack of variety will make it easy to mix things up in the future if I want to. And I'm sure I will.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Rejuvenation
You know how they say 20 minutes is the perfect length for a nap (for an adult)? I have never believed that. It usually takes me that long just to fall asleep during the day. If I get less than about an hour of sleep once I do fall asleep I just wake up sluggish and irritated. That's one reason I usually don't even try to nap while the kids are napping.
Another reason is that I am so grateful for the midday peace and quiet it seems a shame to let that time pass without actively enjoying it. Sure, I sometimes I have a little editing to do and other times there are household chores I can't justify putting off any longer, but my favorite way to spend a naptime is on the front porch swing with a book and a glass of sweet tea. That is definitely a happy place for me, and usually every bit as rejuvenating as sleep.
That said, there are certain days you need sleep and nothing else will do. I have heard that some cities actually rent out spaces where you can nap for a block of time. Along the same lines, I've seriously considered writing a letter to our gym and proposing that they create a spot for this. There's everything else, why not a dedicated napping area?
When I had a terrible sinus infection last summer I dragged myself and the kids to the gym for three or four days when there was no way I could work out but I was desperate for a break. I sought out quiet corners where I stretched out with a magazine and read and dozed. I was a little worried someone would think I needed medical intervention or something, and I thought about sticking a note to my shirt: "I'm not dead, just napping."
If I suggested this to the gym, do you think anyone would take me seriously?
Another reason is that I am so grateful for the midday peace and quiet it seems a shame to let that time pass without actively enjoying it. Sure, I sometimes I have a little editing to do and other times there are household chores I can't justify putting off any longer, but my favorite way to spend a naptime is on the front porch swing with a book and a glass of sweet tea. That is definitely a happy place for me, and usually every bit as rejuvenating as sleep.
That said, there are certain days you need sleep and nothing else will do. I have heard that some cities actually rent out spaces where you can nap for a block of time. Along the same lines, I've seriously considered writing a letter to our gym and proposing that they create a spot for this. There's everything else, why not a dedicated napping area?
When I had a terrible sinus infection last summer I dragged myself and the kids to the gym for three or four days when there was no way I could work out but I was desperate for a break. I sought out quiet corners where I stretched out with a magazine and read and dozed. I was a little worried someone would think I needed medical intervention or something, and I thought about sticking a note to my shirt: "I'm not dead, just napping."
If I suggested this to the gym, do you think anyone would take me seriously?
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Decluttering
I find myself a wee bit addicted to yet another forum for profiting from the innards of our closets, attic and garage. We don't have a local Craigslist, eBay can be a big hassle, and yard sales, though I love having them almost as much as going to them, are a lot of time and energy for usually not a lot of money. Especially if the newspaper fails to publish the ad, but that's another story. Some wonderful person took all this into consideration and created a Facebook group called Moore County Online Garage Sale and, as I said, I am addicted.
A camera. A license plate. Housewares, books, clothes, toys ... as fast as I can list these things, people are snatching them up. I've made about $200 this week, all off of stuff that was gathering dust. And I haven't even gotten to the big-ticket items like skis, speakers and TVs.
I've been in serious purge-mode this month anyway and I'm not sure why. The last week the kids were in school (before I knew about this group) I went through all their toy baskets and donated or consigned piles of the stuff they never play with for one reason or another. No matter how much decluttering I do it never feels like quite enough. This last round was a really good one, though. I really believe that having less stuff makes everything feel less chaotic. If nothing less, there are fewer toys to trip over.
Evan's awake!
A camera. A license plate. Housewares, books, clothes, toys ... as fast as I can list these things, people are snatching them up. I've made about $200 this week, all off of stuff that was gathering dust. And I haven't even gotten to the big-ticket items like skis, speakers and TVs.
I've been in serious purge-mode this month anyway and I'm not sure why. The last week the kids were in school (before I knew about this group) I went through all their toy baskets and donated or consigned piles of the stuff they never play with for one reason or another. No matter how much decluttering I do it never feels like quite enough. This last round was a really good one, though. I really believe that having less stuff makes everything feel less chaotic. If nothing less, there are fewer toys to trip over.
Evan's awake!
Friday, May 25, 2012
10
Apparently back in 2007 I wrote a letter to Matt via FutureMe.org for this day, our 10-year wedding anniversary. I had, of course, forgotten all about it, but it arrived in Matt's inbox right on time and he forwarded it to me. I got the biggest kick out of reading it. If you aren't familiar with FutureMe.org, check it out, preferably when you have a chunk of free time and are in a letter-writing mood. Trust me, your future self will thank you.
Today's (slightly modified) arrival:
Today's (slightly modified) arrival:
The following is an e-mail from the past, composed 4 years, 7 months and 10 days ago, on October 15, 2007. It is being delivered from the past through FutureMe.org
Hey babe!
I'm writing this on the afternoon of Oct. 15, 2007. I'm in the office and Bill is on the phone complaining that his car got towed this weekend. You just walked in here talking on your cell phone. You look hot in your J.Crew cords. You're talking about the fact that [censored] just got a DUI on his moped.
We're less than two months away from moving into Wilkes and I can't wait. You say we're going to be there two years, max. I bet we'll be there longer -- moving is such a pain, and there's no affordable land. Who was right?
Did we ever get around to building an office on the Dowd property (15/501)? We keep saying that project's going to get started "in a few months."
This month was notable because we started waking up early and drinking coffee before work. I love it. ...
So do we have four babies yet? As of this writing we're working on the first one. The plan is to have them in pretty quick succession. But they may have turned out to be 10 times as exhausting as we expected -- we may have stopped at two.
Am I still selling real estate? Did I ever get into magazine writing? Am I still blogging? Running? Are you? Are you still driving the Lexus? What kind of car did I get after the Acura?
Have we finished Foxcroft? Have you gotten better at golf? Right now we're together practically all day every day, and I'm so spoiled.
Are we going somewhere fun (without kids) for our 10-year anniversary? Maybe Europe? I hope so! Also, we need to remember to read the letter your dad gave us on our wedding day. ...
You are literally the best person and best husband I know of. Thank you so much.
It looks like I'm going to take Bill to pick up his car, so I'll end here. Happy anniversary, babe! You make me very, very happy, and I love you more than anything.
Love always,
Jenn
I'm writing this on the afternoon of Oct. 15, 2007. I'm in the office and Bill is on the phone complaining that his car got towed this weekend. You just walked in here talking on your cell phone. You look hot in your J.Crew cords. You're talking about the fact that [censored] just got a DUI on his moped.
We're less than two months away from moving into Wilkes and I can't wait. You say we're going to be there two years, max. I bet we'll be there longer -- moving is such a pain, and there's no affordable land. Who was right?
Did we ever get around to building an office on the Dowd property (15/501)? We keep saying that project's going to get started "in a few months."
This month was notable because we started waking up early and drinking coffee before work. I love it. ...
So do we have four babies yet? As of this writing we're working on the first one. The plan is to have them in pretty quick succession. But they may have turned out to be 10 times as exhausting as we expected -- we may have stopped at two.
Am I still selling real estate? Did I ever get into magazine writing? Am I still blogging? Running? Are you? Are you still driving the Lexus? What kind of car did I get after the Acura?
Have we finished Foxcroft? Have you gotten better at golf? Right now we're together practically all day every day, and I'm so spoiled.
Are we going somewhere fun (without kids) for our 10-year anniversary? Maybe Europe? I hope so! Also, we need to remember to read the letter your dad gave us on our wedding day. ...
You are literally the best person and best husband I know of. Thank you so much.
It looks like I'm going to take Bill to pick up his car, so I'll end here. Happy anniversary, babe! You make me very, very happy, and I love you more than anything.
Love always,
Jenn
"[We] feasted on love, every mode of it -- solemn and merry, romantic and realistic, sometimes as dramatic as a thunderstorm, sometimes as comfortable and unemphatic as putting on your soft slippers. No cranny of heart or body remained unsatisfied." - C.S. Lewis
Monday, May 21, 2012
Sum-sum-summertime
Three more mornings of preschool for the kids and then summer's unofficially here. It looks like we're going to be able to kick it off with a family trip to the beach this weekend. Friday is our 10-year (!) wedding anniversary and we're planning a trip for just the two of us to celebrate that but not until later this summer.
I actually have two new bathing suits this year for the first time in years so that's a nice upgrade. The one I've been wearing has been through two pregnancies with me, and a baby bump doesn't do a bikini any favors. Unfortunately, I never think about shopping for a replacement until we're at the beach, which is usually in July, by which time stores are selling fall clothes and the remaining bathing suits are on clearance and none of the tops match the bottoms and forget about finding your size. This year I remembered all this and ordered early.
With nine hours of free time remaining before school's out, I've got a big to-do list. Priority goes to things I can't do from home and things that are torture with two kids in tow.
I am thankful for the time I have to get stuff done while they're in school, but I'm also really looking forward to a whole wide-open unscheduled summer. I know structure is good for the kids but I feel like three meals and one nap a day provides plenty of routine to build our days around, providing enough consistency while allowing for spontaneous playdates, picnics, outings, errands, stroller runs or whatever else strikes our fancy.
I've also noticed that for some reason I seem to be more patient with the kids on the days they're not in school. It's counterintuitive but true. Sometimes I think I get so involved in doing my own thing while I'm not directly responsible for them that it makes me more selfish with my time, so that when I'm back with them there's been a subtle shift to thinking along the lines of "Taking care of them is getting in the way of what I want to be doing." Whereas on the mornings when I know I might not get 10 minutes to myself, I'm often pleasantly surprised, not only by how much time they do entertain themselves, but also by how much I enjoy their company when they're hanging out with me (if they aren't fighting).
Kate sent me this stanza of a Robert Louis Stevenson poem a long time ago and coincidentally, I happened upon it again just last week when I bought a copy of "A Child's Garden of Verses and Underwoods" at the Coalition. It's always reminded me of childhood summers:
"Happy hearts and happy faces,
Happy play in grassy places --
That was how, in ancient ages,
Children grew to kings and sages."
I actually have two new bathing suits this year for the first time in years so that's a nice upgrade. The one I've been wearing has been through two pregnancies with me, and a baby bump doesn't do a bikini any favors. Unfortunately, I never think about shopping for a replacement until we're at the beach, which is usually in July, by which time stores are selling fall clothes and the remaining bathing suits are on clearance and none of the tops match the bottoms and forget about finding your size. This year I remembered all this and ordered early.
With nine hours of free time remaining before school's out, I've got a big to-do list. Priority goes to things I can't do from home and things that are torture with two kids in tow.
I am thankful for the time I have to get stuff done while they're in school, but I'm also really looking forward to a whole wide-open unscheduled summer. I know structure is good for the kids but I feel like three meals and one nap a day provides plenty of routine to build our days around, providing enough consistency while allowing for spontaneous playdates, picnics, outings, errands, stroller runs or whatever else strikes our fancy.
I've also noticed that for some reason I seem to be more patient with the kids on the days they're not in school. It's counterintuitive but true. Sometimes I think I get so involved in doing my own thing while I'm not directly responsible for them that it makes me more selfish with my time, so that when I'm back with them there's been a subtle shift to thinking along the lines of "Taking care of them is getting in the way of what I want to be doing." Whereas on the mornings when I know I might not get 10 minutes to myself, I'm often pleasantly surprised, not only by how much time they do entertain themselves, but also by how much I enjoy their company when they're hanging out with me (if they aren't fighting).
Kate sent me this stanza of a Robert Louis Stevenson poem a long time ago and coincidentally, I happened upon it again just last week when I bought a copy of "A Child's Garden of Verses and Underwoods" at the Coalition. It's always reminded me of childhood summers:
"Happy hearts and happy faces,
Happy play in grassy places --
That was how, in ancient ages,
Children grew to kings and sages."
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Disclaimer
This new blog is really ugly. Soon I will make it look better. And soon I will start filling up this blank space.
But first, a disclaimer. I don't generally think of myself as a perfectionist, but I have to admit that when it comes to the written word and related projects, I am, often in ridiculous ways. I intentionally did not start baby books for Claire and Evan because I knew I'd never keep up with them and that would drive me crazy. I have started many actual diaries in my life but have thrown them all away because six months or a few years later I found them unbearable to read. (As if anyone's eighth-grade diary isn't cringe-worthy! -- Anne Frank excepted.) I majored in memorizing AP style, for crying out loud.
Nevertheless, I like blogging because it helps me document my life, and knowing people are reading -- or could be, at least -- or used to, anyway -- keeps me from throwing in the towel when I'm burned out. But the perfectionism still sneaks in, mainly in that I don't like going on the record, especially on the vast and permanent Internet, with thoughts and ideas and opinions that are not fully formed. Sometimes I don't even know an opinion was subject to change until three years down the road when I find that it has.
Writing things out helps me think things through, and I'm hoping to use this new blog, in part, as a place to sort of think out loud about things I haven't necessarily figured out. And don't worry, of course I'll still post kid pictures. All this to say, this blank space will fill up a lot faster if I can bring myself to hit the "publish" button even if it's not perfectly presentable, and I'm giving myself permission to do that. Consider yourself warned.
But first, a disclaimer. I don't generally think of myself as a perfectionist, but I have to admit that when it comes to the written word and related projects, I am, often in ridiculous ways. I intentionally did not start baby books for Claire and Evan because I knew I'd never keep up with them and that would drive me crazy. I have started many actual diaries in my life but have thrown them all away because six months or a few years later I found them unbearable to read. (As if anyone's eighth-grade diary isn't cringe-worthy! -- Anne Frank excepted.) I majored in memorizing AP style, for crying out loud.
Nevertheless, I like blogging because it helps me document my life, and knowing people are reading -- or could be, at least -- or used to, anyway -- keeps me from throwing in the towel when I'm burned out. But the perfectionism still sneaks in, mainly in that I don't like going on the record, especially on the vast and permanent Internet, with thoughts and ideas and opinions that are not fully formed. Sometimes I don't even know an opinion was subject to change until three years down the road when I find that it has.
Writing things out helps me think things through, and I'm hoping to use this new blog, in part, as a place to sort of think out loud about things I haven't necessarily figured out. And don't worry, of course I'll still post kid pictures. All this to say, this blank space will fill up a lot faster if I can bring myself to hit the "publish" button even if it's not perfectly presentable, and I'm giving myself permission to do that. Consider yourself warned.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Check
It's Saturday night. The kids have been asleep for hours, Matt is next door playing poker with the guys, and I'm close to finishing "Anne Sexton: A Self-Portrait in Letters." It won't end well.
I just made brownies for a late dinner/dessert and am waiting for them to cool off so I can dig in.
Don't have a lot to say right now, but I know from experience (as a habitual blog-starter) that the first post is always the hardest, so I figured I'd get it out of the way.
I just made brownies for a late dinner/dessert and am waiting for them to cool off so I can dig in.
Don't have a lot to say right now, but I know from experience (as a habitual blog-starter) that the first post is always the hardest, so I figured I'd get it out of the way.
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