mama j

Sunday night I had these friends over:

This is us 20 years ago:

During my three years of middle school my homeroom teacher was Mrs. Johnston. Her classroom was the one I started every day of sixth, seventh and eighth grade. She was also my math teacher in sixth grade, joined our church and her mom and dad became dear friends of mine too.

Mrs. Johnston loves her students. And we loved her right back.  She was the teacher in charge of Ski Club, and took a school bus full of middle schoolers down hill skiing every Friday night of the winter. It was just for fun. And it was all fun. She chaperoned our middle school church ski retreats and all I remember from those trips is laughing with aching abs.

She got a group of us together to wake a teacher up on her birthday with our own little band. She threw a surprise birthday party for me after ski club one year and another year woke me early to take me out for a surprise birthday breakfast. I babysat her kids, built a friendship with her daughter and exploded a bowl in her microwave when I tried to reheat the old maids from the popcorn bag.

When we graduated from 8th grade, she threw us a murder mystery party. When I was in 10th grade, my parents went to Israel for two weeks, and I went to stay with Mrs. Johnston (who had now become Mama J). While staying at her house, I fainted at breakfast and hit the gallon of orange juice and cheerios on my way down.

Mama J's parents became dear friends of mine at church. Her mom was the secretary that I got to talk to every time I needed to talk to my dad. Alice kept close tabs on me this way. I loved that.

At my dad's retirement party I was milling about from person to person in the narthex and then I saw Mama J and burst into tears. It was so instant and surprising to me that I reacted this way. I wasn't sure why I was crying so hard, other than I missed her. And there she was. She looked awesome, had lost quite a bit of weight and I just felt her love. I can't explain that very well, but Mama J loves me so well. I just know she does. She is one of my biggest fans. She loves me and believes in me.

A few months ago I got an email from Mama J's daughter Sarah, telling me that her mom was going in for tests. It looked like it might be cancer. And a few days later it was confirmed stage 4.

It knocked the wind out of me for a long time. Until I called Mama J and heard how upbeat she was and ready to fight. She knew the reality of all that she faced, but she also was ready to seize every day. I felt like a babbling idiot. I never know what to say in these moments. But she was so comforting and I was so grateful.

Ivar and I went to visit shortly after. We brought her a jar of zinnias from the garden, and Ivar had wanted to bring a jar too and chose just one hot pink zinnia for her. But when it was time to go home, he picked up his jar with his one zinnia. I told him that it was for Linda, but he protested and said that he would like to take it back home. Linda was gracious and Ivar took it back home. I kept that zinnia in my window sill for a long, long time. News like this is just so hard to understand and impossible to swallow.

Sunday night I had Mama J and a group of friends over that I first met in middle school, some of them in kindergarden. Twenty years after working our way through 6th grade word problems, drawing tessellations and spending each Friday night of the winter skiing together, we were back together again. It was a sweet, sweet time and just as we did all through middle school, we laughed all night long. It was a joy to be together. And a joy to celebrate Mama J.

aqua aerobics

This week I went back to aqua aerobics. When Elsie got hand, foot and mouth disease, I lost my rhythm. But I went back three times this week. The class is held at our local senior center and I am a few decades younger than everyone else. They are there through the senior center, I am there through the YMCA. But let me tell you, that senior center is so awesome and offers so much that it makes me excited to one day be a senior citizen!

Until then, I'll just enjoy my Aqua Aerobics class.

Can I tell you why I love this class so much?
1. I get out of bed and move around my quiet home. Then I drive to the pool in my quiet car when the sun is just rising. Quiet. This is the first reason I love aqua aerobics.
2. The pool at the senior center it is warmer than the bath I draw for Ivar and Elsie. When I wake up cold, I keep thinking about walking into that warm water. When we begin it is still pretty dark outside and the pool is all lit up. It's so welcoming.
3. The exercise itself is like yoga in the water. Lots of stretching, lots of water weights, lots of water jogging. And it feels so good. Especially on my lower back. Elsie is a hip child, and this is my time to stretch it all out. And this morning they were playing ABBA. Awesome.
4. It's super social. The instructor talks through the chatter, but there is lots of conversation. And this morning I got invited to the aqua aerobics cookie swap. Come on!
5. When the hour is over, I join a few others in the hot tub. This is downright luxurious to me.
6. I get to shower. By myself. Well, come to think of it, not by myself, but without my daughter pulling back the shower curtain trying to hurl herself into the tub with me.
7. On my way out I grab half a cup of coffee, already made, and drink it on my drive home.
8. When I come home, my family is sitting at the breakfast table, happy to see me. And my husband mumbles something about how the garage door woke the baby again and how he's been up since I left. (This happened Monday...today she slept until I got home!)

The people in the class are wonderful and the instructors have been great. In fact, I told Marilyn, our M, W, F instructor that I was blogging about our class today and told her she should read it. Hi Marilyn!

And that sign above? That's on the swim suit ringer. It made me happy the first time I saw it. Not every generation would know how to knead stiff bread dough. I know how, because my grandma taught me. And interestingly, she was a faithful aqua aerobics attender in her own town. :)

pronto painting

When my sister lived in Montana, I had this thing for painting her house. She'd tell me what room, and the color she was thinking and I'd run to Ace to get color samples. Often I would have just arrived after taking the train from Minnesota, and would start my painting project pretty immediately.

She and Jedd lived in a little cottage by the water and I painted her living room and stairwell, the room downstairs, her entry and maybe her bathroom. I can't remember if I did that one or not. 

But here's what I remember most. I'd arrive off the Amtrak and we'd start talking and she'd say things like, "oh, I'd love to paint this room...." or "I would love some color in here..." And I couldn't understand it. I would think, Annika. Just paint the room. 

Well. Guess what I didn't fully grasp? Annika had  an infant and a toddler. 

This reality only really hit me during the past few months. I have had this lovely window installed for quite a while now, but absolutely no motivation to paint the trim. Or the door. Or the baseboard. I had no oomph to finish the room because I, too, have wee ones.

So to get the job done, I actually dropped my kids off at my folks' for an overnight so I'd feel the pressure just to do it. I did, and it was absolute drudgery. Mind numbing boredom. Trim is a bear. All the grooves in the windows, painting around the window locks, getting into every corner. The windows nearly killed me. 

But then the windows were done. After three coats and a weeks worth of time they were all white. 

And I discovered something else while applying coats two and three. I could get a lot done from the hours of 8pm to 10pm. That's a lot of time without kids. And, after the windows, I saw the rest of the painting projects in the house as simple. Painting a door? Easy! Painting a wall? Are you kidding? It's totally flat! 

Something snapped in me and I got to work. I currently am in my fifth night of painting my house. Each day I plan for a different project in the house. Two nights ago it was the door in the kitchen. Last night it was the backsplash and then I got crazy and did the walls too. I painted the whole kitchen in a day and it's awesome.

The paint people at Menards recognize me now. I come in each morning to grab paint samples for the next project and come in later in the afternoon to purchase the paint. 

While painting, I remembered what I called myself when I painted Annika's house in Montana. I always told her, "I'm a pronto painter. It may not be perfect, but I can get it done pronto." I prided myself on my speed. I'm grabbing hold of that title once again. And you know, it looks so good. Color looks good in my house. Little projects add up over five days and the blank walls I have been staring at for sixteen months are now finally getting covered with color. 

Are you inspired? Me too!

news from the coop

It's been a long time since I've done a chicken update. I think the last time I wrote about them was the day we said goodbye to Almonzo, Eggs and Hamburgerpoopedonthecarpet.

We had three chickens then for quite a while.  But a few weekends ago we went back to Terri, our awesome chicken lady and got three more hens. I'd like to introduce you to Zinnia, Nana and Denise.

Zinna is the other black cochin. We wanted to give her a name that started with z, like the other black cochin, Zumbrota. For a while she was going to be Zeta, named after Catherine Zeta, but we chose Zinnia. And hopefully having named a chicken after my favorite flower, I will now learn how to spell Zinnia without an e. That was a bummer.

Nana got her name for a few reasons. My nephew Simon told me he was a Mexican Banana for Halloween. I asked him what that looked like and he said, "a banana with a sombrero." I wanted to honor his clever costume in some way. When I told Rory he said, "well, Elsie can say Nana." So we named a chicken a word that Elsie can say.

Denise. Driving home discussing names Rory said, "How about Denise." I nearly spit my coffee. A chicken named Denise. That's just hilarious.

Introducing the three new ladies to Big Rooster Legos and the other two hens has been sort of hard to watch. The animal kingdom bothers me. And though Rory tells me to stop projecting coop hardships, I can see what is happening. Legos is aggressive and rough. And sweet Zumbrota, who used to be the uncool chicken in the coop, suddenly made it into the popular clique and is rude to the new kids. Come to think of it, the chicken coop plays out a whole lot like high school cliques.

We are getting two or three eggs a day, and after they are done molting, expect all five hens to start laying. Five eggs a day equals a whole lot of frittata.

what to wear

I don't like shopping for clothes. As in, I hate it. It's just not fun for me. And I have no idea how to shop for a wardrobe. Which means most Sunday mornings leave me running around the house in a fury, unable to put an outfit together, frustrated that I'm so frustrated about getting dressed to go to church.

I typically shop event to event. Dad's retirement party was coming up so I had to go get a dress or something. Family reunion around the corner and I ran to target and get a bunch of new hoodie sweatshirts. True story.

I do ponder deep things about clothing thought. Like the part of the Bible that says that the lilies of the field don't worry about what they're going to wear...even Solomon in all his splendor can't compare to the beauty of the flowers. But flowers don't have to get dressed for fancy events, so it's hard to compare.

You're right. I'm missing the point. But it's hard to think about flowers and Solomon when I know I have to put something on that will look put together.

So imagine my complete gratitude when two dear friends, the girls that I get to work with on the Mother-Daughter Soul Sisterhood Retreats, took me under their wing. Melanie and Amanda always look nice. Not overdone, not trying too hard...just nice. And classy.

I told them my woes and they offered to help me build a wardrobe.

You heard me. A wardrobe.

And they meant business. My wardrobe overhaul had three phases, with a few phases still to come.

Phase 1: What Not To Wear
Melanie and Amanda came to my house on a lovely Saturday and I tried on every piece of clothing that I own for them. And just as Stacy and Clinton do in the tv show, I was shown the light and was taught a few important things.

Lessons Learned:
1. I am not allowed to shop in the juniors department anymore. Because I'm 32.
2. It is time to start doing my laundry. As in, not drying everything completely. I need to care for my clothes so they don't shrink up on me. I need to read tags and then follow the laundering instructions. Because I'm 32.
3. Target, Ragstock and Garage Sales are the three top places I shop for clothes. And that's okay. But it is also okay to get a few nicer pieces to build from. If I promise to wash them with care.

It was an awesome day and when they left I drove two overflowing clothes baskets to good will. The girls stripped me of my clothes and it felt awesome. Because I knew what was coming next.

(Unfortunately, we couldn't meet again for another month or so. Which meant I had like seven things to choose from in my closet for a month. That was tricky.)

Phase 2: Pinterest
The day of the clothing purge from my closet, Amanda and Melanie wrote up a list of items my closet was missing, pieces that might work with what I already had. And then I was given the assignment of making a pinterest board, pinning clothes that I like.

I made this board, and from looking at this board and knowing what was left in my closet, Amanda made up a shopping list, sort of in order of priority. The list included what colors I seemed drawn towards and what should be purchased in the future, but not on this first spree.

Phase 3: Shopping at the Mall of America
The day finally arrived. I was super excited to see these girls again, and super excited to get some items in my closet. And oh my word, to shop with two actual shoppers! To have two ladies picking things out for me to try on. To have them checking things off the list, keeping the colors coordinating, running for different sizes, hanging clothes back up on their hangers! It was a dream come true!

We went to four stores: Old Navy, Loft, Marshalls and DSW. And here's what I came home with:
A winter coat, scarf and hat
Ballerina flats
Boot cuffs, tights and boot insoles
black leggings and jeggings
three cardigans
two tank tops
one denim shirt (called something fancy now...I can't remember what)
two necklaces and one pair of earrings
two flowy shirts (also called something fancy)
two striped tops

All coordinating.

And Melanie brought a few items from her own closet, bless her heart! Like the cutest dress I've ever seen. And the girls even gifted me with some additional jewelry. Amazing, right?

We shopped on Veterans Day, which meant everything was absurdly priced. I'd list the grand total, but it would sound like I'm bragging. I had been saving up since August and that was enough.

And now I have a fall capsule wardrobe (capsule was their fancy word, not mine).

And I don't have to have a conniption every time I need to look nice for an event. Plus, I have nicer every day clothes that just make me feel better.

So. If you're in my boat, not loving to shop, not knowing how to put things together, ask a friend who loves to shop. And walk through these three phases. It's so fun. And empowering. This site also has some really helpful hints.

And a final thought: don't fight the jeggings. I wasted a lot of time thinking that jeggings were dumb. But oh my word. They are so comfy. You know, I didn't own a pair of non-legging pants until I was in 7th grade. I lived in leggings. And they're back people! How I thought jeggings were a dumb idea, I don't know. They are brilliant. Comfy, fitted and cute with boots.

over the weekend...

Well this weekend was way better than last weekend mostly because we didn't drag our kids to seven furniture stores on Saturday to look at couches.

But this weekend crazy things happened. For example, Rory took his hunting beard (the one he's been growing since November 1) hunting. And he is happy to report it kept him warm. I am happy to report it looks awesome on him. He is happy to report it will be gone in the next few days because it's itchy. And I am happy to report that will make for way better kissing.

The other crazy thing that happened this weekend? I rejoined facebook. (insert your gasp with my big swallow of pride here)

It's been four and a half years since I dropped out and have been thinking for a while that it is time to join back in. I wrote about two practical reasons for dropping out back in 2009 here. My reason for rejoining is also practical: it's just a handy connection tool for quick communication with a whole lot of people.

I suppose I could write a long explanation, but I won't. What I will tell you is that Saturday night was filled with extroverted joy as people started accepting my friend requests. I was giddy. And goofy about the whole thing. I have friends! Rory! I have friends!

I'm excited. Look me up. I'll probably yelp a little as your request comes my way.

Billy Graham

I flew to North Carolina a few years ago to attend a writing weekend in Montreat. The retreat was held in a beautiful home snug on the side of a steep mountain. During our first dinner together, one of the other attendees asked the home owner if she knew where Billy and Ruth lived. The home owner casually mentioned their address and that it was just a mile up the road.

Oh my. In a moment I turned from Writing Retreat Attendee to Billy Graham Fan-with-a-Plan. The next afternoon, during a chunk of free time I set out "for a walk."

The thing about North Carolina is that up the road is actually up. The road was so steep, and I regretted my flip flop footwear. I hiked that hill all the way to an open wooden gate. I had arrived.

I remember standing at the gate, marked with a sign that read private drive. Ahead was more road and more trees and I wondered how many other super fans had made this very pilgrimage. I also wondered what my plan had been when I arrived at his place.

As I thought about these things, three black SUV's drove through the gate and up towards the house. I smiled at the tinted black windows. I wondered if Billy or Ruth had been in one of those SUV's. I wondered if this was common for them to find random Christians standing at their gate.

The gate was open but I turned around and walked back down the steep hill. I respected the sign. I also figured out by the sound of the SUV's that the house was still way up the hill. So I set back, this time seriously regretting my flip flops, digging between my toes.

I have appreciated Billy Graham for a long time. I love that he has been a pastor to so many of our presidents from both political parties. I miss him lately, his wisdom and voice speaking to our country. I love that he seemed revered by lots of denominations. He was most definitely Baptist, but first a Christian.

Today I was painting the window trim in our living room while the kids were at my mom's. I had the Today show on and Kathy Lee Gifford shared why Billy Graham has been her greatest inspiration.

Click here to watch her segment. It's so good.

trick or treat

Treat: Watching Ivar grasp trick-or-treating. He loved it. Uncle Kyle and I took him from house to house and he was a very happy boy. And I was full of bliss. I adore trick-or-treating (meeting neighbors, candy, cute kids all dressed up...) and have waited since I retired my game at age 16 to get back into it.

Trick: Going to the doctor earlier that day and being told the sores all over Elsie's mouth and hands and feet (and knees and bottom) were in fact, hand, foot and mouth disease. She and her dad stayed in that night and went to bed extra early.

Treat: Halloween at Lisa's. Lisa is always above and beyond and halloween is no different: mummy dogs, minion pumpkins, dumb dumb stuck into a pumpkin, cupcakes with eyes, pumpkin krispie bars, amazing decor, full size candy bars, music, white chicken chili...all of it. I LOVE going to her house for halloween.

Trick: Jack, dressed as Mr. Fox with Betsy as Mrs. Fox, said to me, "oh fun, Thomas the Train. Is that like one of those pregnancy costumes?" Bwahaha. The Thomas head was right at my belly. I hiked it a little higher and made a special note that when I am pregnant again I should wear this costume.

special friend day

A week ago we had friends over and their first grade son, Andrew, asked me if I would be his Special Friend on Special Friend Day at his school.

Oh brother. Would I? My heart swelled and I was so honored.

Before I had kids I used to be a favorite with most children but since having my own, I'm not able to pour into other kids as much...so when Andrew asked if I'd come, it meant so much to me! He saw me as a worthy special friend!

I brought Ivar because I knew he'd love it. And he did. He wore his new outfit from Mimi and looked very big to me. He ate his whole lunch, sat through an entire Mass, and now believes that when kids go to school they sit on a carpet and play with cars and legos with other kids.

When we left he said to me, "I would like to go back to Andrew's school sometime. Maybe tomorrow!"

the first snow

When I went to bed last night I was thinking about the forecast for snow, noting that it is November 6. The last time it snowed was May 2nd, when we got over a foot. If we have another winter like last year, we are looking at a full six months of snow season ahead of us. Six months.

It also means that we only had six months of spring/summer/fall before heading into another winter. It made my heart sink a bit. That wasn't long enough.

But this afternoon I took both kids out in the black sled and we walked around our property for a half an hour. The kids were delighted, my heart was pumping and the whole world was sparkling around me as the sun began to set.

And that's when I thought it: Winter, I am going to kick your butt so hard this year you will not know what has hit you. I have joined the Y. I have a daughter who begs to go outside and a son who loves the sled. I have a big window that fills my living room with light. And I am taking a multivitamin. 

So bring it.

george and katherine

Our former neighbors and dear friends, George and Katherine, came to visit a few days before Ivar's birthday. It made me miss them dearly. They love our kids so well and Ivar and Elsie adore them. They brought Ivar a basket ball and Elsie her very first red-headed baby doll. We named her Georgina Katherine.

growing up

We tucked Ivar into bed after a fun third birthday, telling him about the day he was born, telling him how much we like to be with him and how proud we are to be his parents. We went down to watch a movie, but paused it when we could hear him crying up in his bed. I went into his room and he sadly lamented, "I don't want to be three. I want to be two. Not three."

The only way I could get him to calm down was to tell him he could be two again.

I had my own coming of age this month when, for the first time in my life, I liked refried beans. What on earth? All my life I have been grossed out by this poo-mush and now I really like it. I had a similar reaction when I first started liking blue cheese...sort of a disbelief that I could be getting that old.

Listening to Ivar cry made me wonder why the passing of time seems to come with such dread. Time goes so fast...we can't believe it's already bla-ti-bla month, we can't believe bla-ti-bla season is already over. We can't believe our kid is already three. And he can't believe it, either.



Andrew Peterson has an awesome song about the passing of time called Day by Day. The link will let you listen to the song...but I've copied most of the words here:

And everybody's so surprised
When right before your very eyes
Your baby's in the second grade
You blink and it's her wedding day

And we just can't get used to being here
Where the ticking clock is loud and clear
Children of eternity
On the run from entropy

Well, you have never met a single soul
Who didn't feel the curse's toll
Who didn't wish that death would die
Maybe that's the reason why

And it hurts so bad
But it's so good to be young
And I don't want to go back
I just want to go on and on and on

So don't lose heart
Though your body's wasting away
Your soul is not
It's being remade
So don't lose heart
Don't lose heart
Your body will rise and never decay
Day by day by day

I have been remembering a great truth at random times lately: I am a child of eternity. My body will rise and I will live forever. Usually I only think about my eternal life when attending a funeral. Or on Easter. It's easy to get caught up in our day to day so that the very point of why we are walking through each day can be completely missed. And forgotten.

When I forget that I am a child of eternity then I feel sad about time passing me by. And anxious about loved ones aging. Even watching my one-year-old take her first steps leaves a little lump in my throat because now she's a toddler. Not a baby. And you can never go back.

But I'm looking the wrong direction when I'm thinking these thoughts. Because when I remember that I am made to live forever...that my body will rise one day and that my work on earth is a sweet moment on my way to my eternal home, then I have fire in my bones. Then I want to run this race marked out for me. Then I want to take every moment I have with that little baby-now-toddler and train her up in the ways she should go. Suddenly I have an eternal ending that makes obvious the work to be done during the fleeting days ahead.

So don't lose heart
Though your body's wasting away
Your soul is not
It's being remade
Don't lose heart
Your body will rise and never decay
Day by day by day

Ivar is three today!

A few favorite quotes from the past few weeks:

Me: Ivar, do you understand why you got a time out?

Ivar: Because I was dumping rocks out!

Me: Yes. I told you three times to stop dumping rocks out of the rock box, but you kept doing it. You even looked at me while you were doing it. That is very naughty and that is called disobedience.

Ivar: (whispering like he's amazed) oh that is craaaaaazy.

***

Rory was gone picking up our babysitter and I was getting the kids fed before we left for the crisis pregnancy center banquet. I set before Ivar a cold hot dog, a string cheese and a cup of raspberry yogurt. He exclaimed with the hot dog in one fist and the cheese in the other, "Oh that is fun that I am having a meal!"

***

Ivar was rolling around on the floor and lifted up his shirt, "ow! I skinned my feelings right here!"

***

My sweet joy boy. You light up my life every single day. Today you are three years old. 

You are fun-loving, social, and silly. You love playing game boards taking out all the pieces and making up your own ways to play. You get frustrated easily and have a real knack for throwing yourself on the floor. You don't want Elsie to play with your toys, but you are never more than a foot away from her at any given moment because you adore her. The two of you laugh and giggle until someone starts crying. You love your family, love your blue and green blanket, and told me tonight, "Svea, Uncle Kyle and Natalee are the best of friends." The three of them don't know each other, so I think you were telling me that they are your best friends. 

You are a sweet boy. I am so glad you're my boy.

happy halloween!

All month Ivar has been telling me he wants to be a cowboy for halloween. I was excited because Grandpa Paul has a cowboy costume that he wore when he was just a boy. But as we continued to talk, it became apparent that Ivar wasn't talking about a cowboy with chaps and a gun. He wanted to be a cowboy. A cow. boy. A boy who is dressed as a cow.

Tonight I will have a cow and a peacock strutting around with me as we trick or treat.  I found the peacock costume for $4 at a garage sale early in the spring and love myself now for being so forward thinking.

riding in the combine

There are moments when I feel so, so grateful for our country life. Like weeknights when a friend calls to see if we want to have tater tot hotdish on the floor of her soon-to-be finished home on her in-laws farm. And if we'd like to go for rides in the combine after dinner.

We ate our dinner picnic style where her new living room will go, and I felt anxious the whole time her husband (the farmer) sat with us. He was pretty casual, but I know farmers don't have time to stop and host company. I felt anxiety from a lifetime of harvests, knowing full well that our time to talk with Uncle Jake was when we were in the combine with him. Any other time, just try to stay out of the way. These guys are busy!

Ivar got to go on the first ride with his pal Natalee. They are just the sweetest friends. And then Elsie and I went for a ride with Bennet. Elsie freaked out during most of our first pass, but calmed down for the second pass.

Ivar is just the luckiest boy...and doesn't even know that not everyone gets to hop in a combine on a Monday night.

tractors make boys very happy

Rory planted our garden this year in strips of soil with grass in between. It worked fine, but after the fence was up, it was impossible to mow, and hard to maintain. So when friends of ours let us have at their tractor, the whole game changed. In ten seconds Rory tilled up a strip with that tractor that had taken him hours to accomplish with a walk-behind tiller and a pitch fork, literally lifting the sod out of the garden strips, earlier this spring.

The tractor changes everything. Including the size of the garden. We got excited and decided to make a huge plot for next year. I frequented a farm stand this fall and got inspired. I suddenly want to be a part of the garden work. So the garden got bigger.

We tilled the plot and then went looking for cow manure.

We didn't have to go far.

This is the farm that the kids and I frequent. We stop and watch the cows all the time. I've wondered if they've ever called in my plates because we must be so suspicious parked on the little country road.

We found the farmer and he was delighted to meet us, thrilled that we wanted his manure and spoke excitedly about the need for community, especially in the country, how neighbors are a must and community is the most important thing. I love this guy.

I invited him to our second annual neighborhood Milk and Cookies party in December and he said, "We'll bring the milk! Actually, I'll make it into ice cream. That's what I'm really known for." How awesome is that?!! Local (as in a mile away) milk made into ice cream?!! I just wanted to hug him!

Rory got to work the next day. We were so excited about this manure!

I call this picture "look our below." That cat Vernon is always at hand. He's so loyal. But probably at risk of getting rained on in this photo.

october in words

(I am rarely this wordy. You've been warned.)

So I don't quite know what has happened to my blog here, but October 2013 is probably my personal worst for blogging consistency. Days have been full though. I thought I'd take a post to give an honest catch up.

We joined the Y this month and I really like it. I mostly go for the HGTV, but I'm beginning to go to more classes where I actually feel social pressure to break a sweat. I also attended a water aerobics class early one morning at the senior center pool. It's through the Y, but as I found out, attended by mostly 75-year olds. Naturally I loved it. These are my people. Our teachers name is Marilyn and that sort of sums it up. Everyone wears tennis shoes in the pool or aqua socks and I was told I should use the biggest water weights "because I could handle them." That was good for my self esteem.

We have been sort of working in manic-squirrel mode around here preparing for winter. Rory is working hard to get a ceiling in around his chimney for the stove in his office. When that's done his office will be winterized. I am on a never ending mission to organize and clean my garage so we can pull both cars in. My efforts are greatly slowed by the two cats and three chickens who delight in my presence, wrapping themselves around my legs, happily clucking after me everywhere I go.

I have been walking through a sort of revival of the soul this month. We go to a prayer meeting two doors down every Tuesday night. It's an amazing group of earnest seekers of Christ and I love every minute. We've done some book studies but now we're doing a series by Joyce Meyer on taking your own thoughts captive. She's all about taking personal responsibility for your own self, your attitude, the way you react. I'm feeling conviction all over the place. She talks a lot about self-pity and says, "you can't be both pitiful and powerful." Rang like a bell.

I also got to teach for a morning at our church's women's book study. It was really fun to be in that mode again. It has been so, so long since I've done any sort of public speaking and it felt good. A bit rusty, but really good, too.

And Rory has been teaching a class at our church on Sunday mornings before the service begins. He's walking through CS Lewis' Mere Christianity, teaching from the book while weaving in discussion questions. It's so rich. Feels like a feast. Rory has a great pace to his teaching, and the material is so substantial, so articulate, and such a great reminder of the great story of God's Kingdom we are living under.

Rory and I went to the Sara Groves, Andrew Peterson and Bebo Norman concert earlier this month, followed by two nights at the Westin in Edina. The getaway was needed, wonderful, and way. too. short. We've been listening to a whole lot of Andrew Peterson ever since the concert and I can't get enough. Andrew has a way of writing songs that constantly point to the larger story that our story hangs on. Just like Lewis in the paragraph above, Andrew is always singing about the reckoning, wondering how long it will be until this earthly story concludes, singing about the loss of youth but a readiness for the eternal. And he's a poet, so the way he writes and sings makes things feel new again. Every song makes my heart beat a little harder, excited to be a part of God's kingdom work, excited to be hands and feet, excited to be His.

We have had a ton of company this month. I remember this about last October too. Somehow this is the month we seem to book up with dinner guests and visitors. It's awesome and makes our farm feel alive and bustling.

And finally, last night we had our friend Jaime come out to take family pictures. Jaime and I had talked this August while sitting on beach chairs by prior lake and I was debating if a photo shoot with a one and two year old was even worth it. Felt like such a gamble. Late in the game (this month) I decided we should give it a whirl. They're only this age once, right? So Jaime came and we laid out our colorful quilt under an oak tree back in the woods. And we set our children up and watched them wiggle away. And then Vernon, the orange cat came and photobombed for a long while. And eventually Elsie was crying crocodile tears as she shivered in the cold.

I think we got a few shots, but boy was it work.

Fast forward to two hours later when we're just back in the house and Elsie starts screaming. Her thumb is purple again (she had slammed it in the toilet seat earlier this week) and it looks out of joint. She can't pull it together and eventually lost all of the food eaten during the day. We rushed to the ER, unable to figure out why her thumb was so oddly positioned.

We got there, her thumb was "normal" again, but she had a fever of 101.7 and she continued to throw up. She was miserable. And we felt terrible. We had just spent two hours trying to "cheer her up" for family photos, bouncing her around, making silly faces at her and now the doctor was telling us he was pretty certain she had the stomach flu. He thought the thumb was just a coincidence.

They gave her a tiny Zofran, which felt full circle since I lived on Zofran while I was pregnant with her. She slept great all night, and in a sweet miracle the rest of us did too. She still has a fever and is very lethargic so we spent a lot of time today snuggling and reading board books and watching Thomas the Train. She's so active and busy that the days she wants to just lay in my arms are like a sweet gift. I'll take it.

***

I've been thinking a lot about blogging lately, wondering if it's obsolete yet. Wondering if people care anymore. But then I just had all of my posts from 2012 printed in a hard cover book and that book is like gold to me. It's the baby book I never finished for Ivar, and this blog is the baby book I've never even started for Elsie (for real.) It serves as the 10-year diary I wish I kept up with like my mother-in-law does so faithfully. And it's the journal I wish I wrote in each night. For now this medium is the only way I have continued any sort of writing life (which has mostly been a picture-describing writing life, but I hope that improves at some point too). But I finally decided that all those reasons are reason enough to keep writing.

Or maybe just for my great granddaughter who may one day crack the printed hardcover blog books open, curious about our day to day life. To her (and to you too) I'd say, "I'm so glad you're here. And I am very grateful you are reading."