Odds and Ends...

Life has been busy around here lately. Here are the highlights, in no particular order.


Two weekends ago, Kristiana and I accompanied my mother on a roadtrip to the Philly area for her family reunion. I have recently discovered that I rather like intersections with lots of road signs. Which way do I go? How do I decide? By the way, Swarthmore, Pennsylvania is a picturesque, sleepy, tree-laden little town. It hosts a charming little farmers' market in the library parking lot every Saturday. Two hours of parking on the street there costs 10 cents. Yes, one thin dime!


Being the lover of cottages and bungalows that I am, I couldn't resist capturing this image of the house across from the aforementioned library. I stood and tried to imagine sipping cups of early morning coffee on that front porch. Waking up in the bedroom above and to the right of the front door, looking out into the branches of that tree, greeting the squirrels every morning. Strolling across the road to the library for movies and books and a magazine or two. Teaching introductory Spanish to new students at the college. What a life!


I would hazard a guess that the folks who gather regularly at the community center where I discovered this gem of a sign have yet to fully comprehend the meaning of the word "community."


I liked this sign. A lot. I wanna live in a home like that. In actuality, I do live in a home like that. The paints and paintbrushes and scissors and magazines and stickers and ink pads and rubber stamps on my dining room table attest to that.


I am deeply engaged with these two books these days. Reading the one on the left in bits and pieces. Writing about what I am learning in the one on the right. Yes, I have my journals numbered; this is the 94th journal I have written since the start of the year 2000. That's a lot of scribbles and collages and stickers, I suppose.


We started homeschooling again on Monday. We are surrounded by binders and dividers and loose leaf paper. Spirals and composition books and mechanical pencils. Textbooks and computer programs and videos. The children are now engaged in reading, writing, and listening to me pontificate about all the great things we will do this year. For the next nine months, we will work our way into the answers to some of the questions that hang over and within us.


I finally wrote a school-year summary for last year, Kristiana's sophomore year. I thought I would have to write one up for the year before as well (yes, I am a ridiculously efficient procrastinator about such tedious chores), but, much to my delight, I discovered that in a fit of earlier efficiency, I had already written that one.


My son made chicken pot-pie for dinner yesterday. From scratch. He printed the recipe from the internet, determined what we needed to purchase at the supermarket, got it all organized on the kitchen counter, and made dinner for his astonished and grateful family. I watched the process in awe, assisting only in the tiniest of ways, only when asked, which was not often. I didn't ask any questions. I didn't tell him how awed I was that he was peeling carrots and potatoes, dicing onions and garlic, sauteing things, mixing things, boiling things, stirring things, ignoring phone calls and texts from his friends because he wanted to wait until after the pot pie was in the oven to take any phone calls. Did I mention that he is 12???

Dinner was absolutely fantastically delightfully delectable.

Unfortunately, I have no photos to commemorate the blessed event. I was nervous that, by pulling out the camera, I would disturb his concentration, make him nervous and self-conscious, and otherwise stop the process by which he was providing me with another opportunity to not cook. Undeterred by all the work, he has already declared that he wants to make another meal sometime soon.

That boy is gonna make somebody very, very happy someday.
The truth is that he is making somebody very happy already: me.

Life is good.
God is good.
All is well.

Life is good.