bookth bookth and more bookth

Here's what I am currently reading, now that there is no major "routine" to our day:

Cutting for Stone

by Abraham Verghese

You can click on the link above for one review, but here is a blogger I randomly found who liked it while searching for links to share. I think I am going to frequent her blog as a resource for books.

Anyway, Cutting for Stone has 533 pages or something re-dikerous like that, but I am really enjoying it so far (at p 115 or so).

Because it is borrowed from the library and is a 'new' book, I can only keep it for seven days. After which time, I will resume reading the Frank McCourt books my friend Susan is letting me borrow. (T'is, which is the 'sequel' to Angela's Ashes, as well as Teacher Man)

What about you ~

Are you reading anything good this summer?

school's out!

Now onto the relaxed pace of summertime. Flip flops, sidewalk chalk, popsicles, swings, pinwheels, watermelon seeds, dollar store toys, and a million trips to the library.

ahhhhhhh!

famous last words

Me to #3: Oh, honey, please don't have the nail polish remover on the new dining room table. Sit on the floor or take it to the bathroom or something.

#3: "I'll be careful."

deep thoughts

The more I know... the less I want to know. Y'know?

she's on the roads: consider yourself warned

Today is No. 1's 15th birthday.

To celebrate and a way to share her joy with others, she found a recipe and wanted to make everyone Eggs Benedict for breakfast. Best I'd ever had, truly. I always thought it was a very difficult thing do to. Believe me, she has a gift.

After we ate, she fussed over what she should wear, but only just a little bit, got dressed, and then descended the stairs at which time King and his smiling firstborn headed to the DMV so that she could take her test to get a Learner's Permit. It was a moment we were all very excited about.

Something I was not prepared for was the phone call I received from King with the question:

Should she check "yes" on being an Organ Donor?

My breath caught in my throat. I was shocked into silence... which doesn't happen too much. My mind played out gruesome scenarios, but if my daughter's life could help someone else life, I would want that. King and I are both organ donors for the same reason, so with hesitation, I answered, "Um, yes?"

No one really warns you about those kinds of things, do they? Well, if you haven't "been there, done that", consider yourself warned.

on to the next thing

Finished Angela's Ashes. Great book, in case there is anyone left who hasn't read it yet. I was a bit disappointed in the ending, but then, now I have a reason to read the sequel, right?
And, for the small handful of people who have not read it, and were a bit put off by the title, like I was, it does not refer to Angela's cremated remains.

bless me

I am currently reading a book that everyone else in the world has already read years ago, Angela's Ashes.
On reading the chapter in which little Francis makes his First Confession - Let's just say that I am glad I had not just taken a sip of tea or something. I would have spewed it.

I am about halfway along, so nobody spoil the ending, k?

where's the glue?

In case you don't read Darby Stickler's blog "Fly Through Our Window", can I at least direct you to this recent entry? I will wait while you read it.

Still waiting.

Now. How many of the things on her list jumped right off the screen and smacked you right between your beautiful peepers?

Truthfully this was like a sock in the gut for me:

Let's not confuse our culture's shallow idea of celebrity beauty with the kind of attractiveness that Godly character produces.

King has told me so many times that I am "a beautiful woman of whom God is surely proud". I have batted down the compliment each time. For one reason, being a Southerner, I am not supposed to accept compliments, right? But the other, main reason I bat it away every time is that I have been running in vain after worldly beauty.

I do wish (and think I have mentioned before) that there was a way that I could see myself the way King sees me, the way my children see me, the way so-many-other-people-I-love see me....

but mostly the way God sees me. After all, I want to be the most beautiful to Him.

Therefore, Darby's wise reminder from what she learned in her Genesis bible study will, from now on, be pasted above every single mirror in this house. I think the children we are raising will benefit from the reminder as well.

love potion #4

Him: "Mommy, I need to make a love potion one day and I am going to need some water."

Me: "Oh really? Love potion, huh? What else do you need to make it?"

Him: "Flower petals."

(pause)

Him: "And dirt, for the brownies."

Happy Graduation Day

to my sweet 4th child.

you might be under the influence of hormones when....

"Oh, right. I see that's not nailed down, pass it over here, I'm feeling peckish."

I'm giving her all she's got, Captain!

-Scotty, Chief Engineer USS Enterprise

Star Trek

global warming lesson no. 4976

Do not dare complain when, on the tenth of May, you awaken to a beautifully brisk morning.

Right away you should praise God for global warming, because of its wonderful cooling effects on the Earth.

hormone-infused truth

Warning: This post is not for the weak of heart. Turn back now if you don't want to read my brutally honest, not-so-pretty feelings... the ones that I try like hell to hide or avoid thinking, because, after all, aren't we all supposed to be perfectly happy, joy-filled, squeaky clean Christians who always do the right thing? Don't say I didn't warn you. I will understand if you avoid me in the grocery line from now on.

I hate Mother's Day.

There is so much pressure to have the day be perfect:

"Don't fight today, it's Mother's Day, and we want it to be special for Mommy."

ugh!

Trying to be something you aren't:

Fakey fakeness.

Besides, they can't hold out from arguing longer than breakfast anyway.

Even when I try not to have expectations, they are there,

hiding in the same part of my being where "magical childhood wishful thinking" remains.

For the record, I want to be a buff size 14 with a spotlessly clean house, all the nagging chores already completed so that I don't feel chained to the house so that in turn, I can feel free enough to leave this chore-filled prison and actually go out and enjoy such a beautiful day that God created.

All the handmade cards scribbled on colorful construction paper, with their misspelled words and drawn flowers are all so nice.

Really. They are.

But then the guilt I feel for not wanting to make a "Mother's Day Card Museum" of my house as I toss them into the trash a week later becomes a heavy burden.

Why can't today just be a plain ol normal day?

Fold the laundry.

Clean the bathrooms.

Wipe down the dining room table.

Monday's coming!

Y'know, Monday?

or Tuesday,

Wednesday... whichever....

When you can relax and sit back and ignore the things Mom asks you to do.

Where you can roll your eyes and no one says anything.

The day you don't have to respect your Mother.

Because, after all

what does she think it is, Mother's Day?

she's breakin' my heart

Signs that the three year old is maturing....

Winnie the Pooh

When she no longer calls him "Lady-Pooh".

He is now "Windy-Pooh".

I remember when No. 3 used to call a "knife" a "life". It was so adorable that I just couldn't correct her. Same with this Lady-Pooh thing. I just couldn't tell her she was saying it wrong. I knew she would figure it out when she got old enough to hear the difference. *sigh*

Thankfully, No.5 still says "cool" for "pool". But I'll be willing to bet that by the middle of the summer, she will self-correct that bit of innocent sugar-sweetness, too.

summer is on its way....

... and you will want to know this.

No Freezer Needed

Ice Cream Recipe

When I visit Darby's blog, it makes me want to be her BFF, or her neighbor, or, hell, even her #1 stalker. She is the. cutest. person. ever! And she makes me wish I was that young (and that thin).

check, check, check, check, check...

35 Symptoms of Menopause

just in case you were wondering

yeeee-owww

Might I just say that I cannot stand the annoying, painful feeling that occurs when the wire from my favorite brassiere works its way out and starts poking the tender underarm area. Not only does it hurt like crazy, but it signals the end of a beautiful relationship.

ahhhhhhh

We survived it.

Our nearly 100 year old house almost didn't, but the rest of us survived an After-Spring-Formal-for-fourteen-7th-graders last night. Number One, gorgeous soul that she is, wore a vintage dress (much to her mother's delight) and Number Two, handsome lad that he is, wore the "uniform" of first year students: white pants, white oxford, navy tie, and navy blazer.

They looked so beautiful with their partners, but here they are together at the house before leaving for the dance.