Zero Calories

Was this just Monday?
Man, this day seemed long.
I thought surely we'd be half way through this week
by now. I am waiting for the last of the cookies to
come dancing out of the oven so that I can go to bed.
I am tired (please sleep all night tonight, Baby J!). I felt
like my kids were all out of their ever-loving minds
today. Two out of three of them got a privilege taken
away today (one for a week, the other for two weeks).
And it won't be fun while they are doing without.
But I am going to start cracking down. I need to be
much more consistent.
And much much more fierce.

What kind of cookies did I make?
Well, since you asked, I will tell you.
I made some more of those yummy yummy and
yummy again Pecan Sandies that I made around
Christmas. Those cookies have got to be the best
thing to ever fall into the dessert category
without having any chocolate in them,
on them, or near them. Yes, I will admit it.
I love a chocolate-less dessert.
Is this a first for me?

In other news, I have started sniffing around plans for
our next school year. I am determined to order my
curriculum (and etc.) this spring so that I am not
sitting there at the end of the summer, ready and
willing to start school but without the needed loot to
do so. I found a grammar program today that really
struck a chord with me. I am excited about trying
it out. It made such sense to me. And so many
grammar programs don't make sense. Or they make
kids do exercises until their eyes cross and at the end
of the day you just want to say "What did all that
accomplish?" But it's a different approach and, well,
I am the kind of person who gets excited about a well
designed grammar program. I also found that I can get
next school year's planner cheaper if I order it
before the end of February. Imagine how well-planned
out our school year could be if I would order than thing
in February and actually start working on it, laying
out the days ahead of us, smoking my cigar and just
waiting for the day when I could slap Mr. T on the
back and say "I love it when a plan
comes together."

Not long ago I saw Mr. T on television.
It must have been on one of the Christian channels.
You know we scaled our cable back to the smallest package
possible, which means all we have are shopping channels
and religious networks. Anyway, Mr. T was on there
and he was preaching. Not like standing at a pulpit
and wearing a suit. He was dressed like normal
(normal for him, I should clarify that)
and just sitting there being interviewed and he
whipped out these papers where he'd written all these
notes. And he just got to preaching.
It was interesting.
You could tell that he had put a lot of work into it
and it meant a lot to him. What he said was sound.
It was like a basic gospel message. I thought that
was great. He will be able to minister to people that
I could never reach.
And vice versa. I hope.

Well, the cookies have danced their way out of the oven
and I am going to dance my way into the bed.
Don't try to stop me.

Oh, I thought of one Dear Reader in particular
(of the 1.5 of you that are out there) and I thought
I'd tell you that these cookies have 135 calories
in each cookie. That seems like a lot of calories
in one cookie. No wonder cookies are bad.
Don't ask me how many I ate.
I should let you in on my take on the point system.
If it's in the shape of a zero, it's zero points.
That's my theory.
And these cookies are like
a whole tray full of zeros.

I'll keep telling myself that.

Bell is full of something.

This beautiful weekend
has been like a gift, has it not?
After all that ridiculous snow and cold weather,
this little piece of spring wedged into the winter
has been wonderful. Such a blessing.
I am trying to give verbal thanks for things more often.
It's one thing to be thankful in my heart, but I think
I don't express it often enough.
I know it's not YOU that I have to thank
for the sunshine, Dear Reader,
but I am just telling you that I am
very thankful for it.

I told you the worst was over with Baby J,
and that does seem to be the case. We still have
a runny nose and we are dealing with a baby who
now thinks that he should be able to whimper and
get everything he wants....but that's okay.
He'll figure out that life is still the same around here.
I'm just happy that he's not sick anymore.
I am SO very thankful for that.
I am extremely thankful that we did not have to

put him in the hospital. I'm telling you, Dear Reader,
I'm just a Bell full of thankfulness.

This weekend Sweet T has his little birthday party
with his little friends. I think he really enjoyed it.
I hope so. It was very basic, very simple and small.
It would have been nice if people would have let me
know if they were coming or not, you know? That created
the stress that I felt. I didn't know if I was going to have
five little kids or twelve.
Or twelve kids and all their siblings.
And that's a big difference.
It ended up being that the ones who came are the families
I so enjoy (and wish we were more like) and it went
very smoothly. The kids were fine. Everything was fine.
They played a couple of games.
They got sugared up.
Sweet T unwrapped the gifts at the speed of light
(why do kids do this?).
They chased each other around the room.
And then it was over.

And now my little super baby is a five year old.
I can't believe it. I think about how much has happened
in the time since that child was born. I really
associate his arrival on the scene with a lot of changes
in our lives. In a lot of ways, I wish I could go back
to that time, only not subtracting Sweet T and Baby J
from the equation. But I have learned a lot in these
past five years. We've walked down some difficult
roads. Hopefully we are wiser for them.
Hopefully we are learning the things that God is
trying to teach us ('cause we really don't want to turn
around and have to walk back down those paths again).

But when I think about that child,
that little blond third born of mine,
I just think of joy.


He is a constant source of joy.
He's such a happy child.


A hard worker. A follower of directions.
A tender heart. A smart mouth
(where does he get that from!?!?).


A dancing, laughing, smiling,
bubbly, fearless little boy.

What a blessing he is in my life.
Children are indeed a gift from God.
I am so blessed.

I told you, I'm just full of thankfulness tonight.

What a Difference A Day Makes

I was telling a friend
who called yesterday
to check on Baby J
that if the fever would just go away,
everything would be fine.
And guess what?
The fever has gone away.
Things are better. Baby J is not totally
back to normal because it was such a sickness,
it took a chunk out of him. But he is so
very much better than he was.
There's just no comparison.
So thank you for praying for him.
Thank you for caring about us.
I'll be back later.
For now, just know that we are on the mend.

And if Lloyd Dobbler or I come down with this,
you will probably be able to hear me scream all the way where you are.

The Lion Sleeps Tonight (but what about the baby?)

Well, Dear Reader,
since we last spoke
I have had a very sick baby.
Very sick. Took him to the doctor
yesterday. We have
the best doctor in the world,
by the way. Love our doctor.
He's a very godly man,
very practical and thorough.
He's just great. He's doctor
to our entire family and we all just love
him to pieces. I don't think Baby J loved him
yesterday quite as much as he will in
future days....In fact, I do believe that there was some
kicking going on between the two of them (and it
wasn't our lovely doctor who was doing the kicking).
Doc offered to put Baby J in the hospital if I did
not feel comfortable taking care of him at home.
We just had to watch him carefully.
Watch the crazy fever and
watch the hydration.
So I've been watching.

My mother was very concerned and she came over
here this morning. I think she said she was dressed
and ready to come at 5:00 a.m. Thankfully she
didn't come at that time. She was just afraid that
I would have been up all night long with Lionel Ritchie,
but he actually slept last night. Tonight I am
not so sure that will happen again. He is just
so miserable. It's really pitiful.
I can't stand to have a sick baby.
They can't tell you anything. They are just
so sad and pathetic.
It's no fun at all.

So let's hope Baby J sleeps tonight.
And lets hope he gets better
while he sleeps. Pray for him
if you will. He's such a
precious little guy.

You've Come A Long Way, Belly

What's up, DR?
It's Monday. Have you had a good Monday?
I got on facebook this morning to see, you know,
if Frank Sinatra is asking to be my friend
('cause that would be really weird since he's dead and all)
and it seemed like everyone was complaining about
this day. All those typical "I hate Monday" kind of
statements. Usually I would be right there with you
to kick Monday as hard as I possibly could.
While wearing steel toed boots.
But not today.
This Monday went well for us.
I am trying to stick by the plan in recent days.
And I actually have a plan to be sticking to
---that's improvement on my part.
You have no idea what a long way I have come.
You should be calling me Virginia Slim.

But after the holidays and then sickness and snow
and too much of messed up days, it feels so good
to be back to the ordinary.
Back to the routine.

Tonight for supper I made this Tex Mex Beef & Potatoes.
It was a brand new recipe to us lately, and it is not
the kind of thing I make a lot. It's not my normal fare.
I find myself thinking that and saying that in
reference to this recipe. But then I don't know
why it is exactly that this feels like something "different."
It just does. This is not healthy or impressive or
anything like that. I mean, it contains Velveeta.
That says a lot, doesn't it?
It's just a basic, comfort-food
type of dish and it is very filling and warm
and my family likes it. (A feat in itself)
Maybe yours will too.

Tex Mex Beef & Potatoes

1 lb ground beef
1 red bell pepper, chopped
1 onion, chopped
1 pkg taco seasoning
1/2 cup water
1 bag frozen southern style hash browns
1 pkg (10 oz) frozen corn
1/2 lb (8 oz) Velveeta cheese

Heat oven to 350 Brown meat with peppers
and onions in a large skillet. Drain, return
to skillet. Stir in taco seasoning and water.
Add potatoes, corn, and Velveeta. Mix well.
Spoon into 13x9 dish. Cover.
Bake 20 minutes; stir. Then bake UNcovered for
15 minutes more or until heated through.

It's easy. You can make it ahead of time and throw it
into the oven later. Or make it and put it in
the oven to come on while you are out (like on Sunday
morning while you are gone to church---I love having
the smell of a wonderful lunch meet me at the door
when I come home). So try it if you like.
Or don't. Like I said, it's not some amazing,
impressive dish. It's just ordinary food.
The kind I like to serve on ordinary days.
Like today.

Pa Ingalls was no looker.

I was just looking at the radar on-line, wondering if
we are going to get any of this winter storm they are
threatening to slather all over us. It's funny how after
the recent snow, now that everyone else is fed up with it,
the weathermen don't talk about it so romantically.
They are not quite so giddy at the snowy prospect.
Nobody is crossing their fingers and hoping for it.
Parents are complaining about school being canceled
because they don't know what to do with their children.
I'd like to point out that I am not jumping on the
bandwagon of bad-mouthing snow.

I am the one that drove that wagon into town.

I can't help but remember, every time I look at
a weather radar screen, the time that Lovely K first
took note of a weather report. We lived in our old house
which had two very large, very old trees in the front yard.
I was sure a good storm would
come through on any given day
and tip one of those trees over on our little house.
This time to which I am referring was a particularly
stormy spring day. There had been tornado watches,
tornado warnings, and actual tornadoes. I was checking
the TV on a regular basis to see if we needed to go to
our happy place. It was one of these times, when I came
into the living room to see what the weather people
were saying, that Lovely K watched the weather radar
with me and then ran to the window and looked up
at the sky. She looked all around, as far as she could see.
"Are we going to get the red?" she asked.
That's what I want to know when I check
the weather radar.
Are we getting the red?
Never mind all the other stuff they want to talk about.
You know how crazy they get with the warnings.
Merciful heavens! After some big weather show
passes through, then they have to go above and beyond
to report to us anything that might
possibly turn into something.
"We interrupt this regularly scheduled program
to inform you that a good stiff breeze will be blowing through
your county for the next eleven minutes. If this
good stiff breeze were to increase to, oh I don't know,
an actual gust of wind, we will be right back on here,
keeping you from watching Oprah, so that we can
talk about the wind.
Stay tuned."

I think it's all too much.
Ma Ingalls didn't need anybody to warn her
about wild and crazy weather.
But who ever said I was a Ma Ingalls?
That I am not.
No dirt floors and outhouses for me.
And no Pa Ingalls either. Please.
Have you ever seen a picture of the real Pa Ingalls?
No wonder Mary went blind.

Blah Blah Blah

I am amazed at how much better I feel today.
A complete turn around from yesterday at this time.
Wonderful.
(Thanks for your concern for me and your prayers!)
We are just rolling down the street
in our school bus today.
One student in particular seems
to be struggling with this.
Too much laxness in recent days.
Too much fun.
And this child is so easily distracted. I often wonder
what this child would be like if they had been in
a traditional school setting from day 1.
I have really been thinking about schooling lately
and the choices we have made in our family,
wondering if changes need to be made.

Lovely K is playing the William Tell Overture
over and over and overture this morning.
And Baby J is having a fit because
he's incarcerated while his sister is playing
the piano. He thinks his place is to be
on one end of the piano banging any key he can
reach when she is practicing.
Now I'm no musician, but it just seems to me
that it might be easier to practice an instrument
without a baby hanging onto it.

It just feels kind of like an ordinary day
around here, Dear Reader. I mean, it's just school
and laundry and dirty diapers and cleaning....
the fabric of my life.
Sometimes ordinary days feel precious and priceless
and their beauty is easy to recognize.
Ordinary days can also be a boring bowl of oatmeal
or a cross to bear.

Wouldn't You Like To Be A Pepper Too?

It was a NyQuil night for the old Bell last night.
I think I went to bed around 8:30.
It's about 2:00 p.m. right now and I am sitting up
and am conscious of my surrounding. It's
a good thing when you can actually slip
things into "auto pilot" from time to time as a mother.
And not have to worry about somebody eating
an entire poinsettia or trying to ride the lawnmower
to the convenience store down the street. Today was
one of those days. I mean, when you have to call your
ten year old to lift the baby out of his bed for you,
don't plan on getting much accomplished that day.
I sat up long enough to feed Baby J his breakfast.
Then I put him in his fence and turned on Sesame Street
for entertainment. I meant to lay on the couch and steer
the ship from there, but apparently when I became
horizontal again, I lost consciousness. It was like from
time to time I would open my eyes
and there'd be kids walking around.
"Did you do your Language Arts?" I would ask.
"Yes."
"Okay. Do your Math now."
I think I'm up for Teacher of the Year.

I'm just grateful that my big kids are old enough
that going into "auto pilot" mode is actually an option now.
Lovely K is such a helper. I'd have to say, if you're going
to have a daughter, have one like Lovely K.
What would I do without my beautiful Lovely K?
She is a one of a kind.

The fact that I am sitting here now, clear minded enough
to be able to operate a computer, shows how much better
I am feeling now than I was this morning.
I could not have typed a word to you this morning.
This morning I had one foot in the grave.
Forget medication of any kind.
I felt like death until I drank a Dr. Pepper.
That's what my grandmother always used to
"medicate" herself. Maybe there are some
healing powers in that magical dark juice.

I went to my bed when Baby J took his morning nap
and I was out cold again. I can understand why last week
when she was sick, Lovely K would just cry because she felt
so bad. I don't know what woke me up just after noon
....I think maybe a child came in asking
for more porridge or something.
Lovely K made PB&Js for all of us. I think eating that
and drinking a Diet Dr. Pepper (just what the doctor ordered!)
perked me up a little here.
I am now sending the two big kids off to do more
school work. I am determined to get everything that is
absolutely necessary checked off of the list today.
School will be done.
Supper will be made.
I set the ingredients out on the cabinet a minute ago.
I'm not going with the French Country Casserole that was
originally scheduled for tonight. I'm going to replace
that with a promising new act called Chicken In Rice.
It's something that I can just whip together and put in
the oven. Of course, so was the French Country Casserole,
but it just seemed more involved. I can't be standing in there
chopping carrots for 45 minutes today.
I'm hanging over the edge of a cliff today
and I have got to hold on for dear life.
Today and tomorrow are all I am allowed to feel crummy.
I can make life easier on myself these two days,
(by making an easier supper choice
and riding through this day in a fog letting the kids do the
minimum school work and watch the maximum TV)
and then it's back to the salt mines.

Some day when my kids are grown,
I'm going to get sick and I'm just going to stay in bed all day.
Never get up the first time.

But not today.

And why would blogger pick on somebody who is sick today?
Why would it treat me this way?
It keeps telling me that horizontal is misspelled,
but it won't tell me how to spell it correctly.
And I can feel the Dr. Pepper magic leaving my body
even as a type. I think I'm going to be HORIZONTAL
again in a minute....whether that's the way
you spell it or not.

And so it begins.

You know how people will say
"today is the first day of the rest of your life"?
While that may seem like a profound statement at times,
every single day is actually the first day of the rest
of your life. Every day is a new starting point.
What is it L. M. Montgomery says in Anne of Green Gables?
"Tomorrow is fresh, with no mistakes in it."
And the Bible talks about new mercies each morning,
a daily load of benefits, that sort of thing.

Today is a new start for us in some ways.
Lloyd Dobbler has returned to his former job and will no
longer be working at home. So starting today, when I say
to the kids "Daddy is at work," it won't mean that he's
in the basement. You guys know I have complained about
The Big Stink of 2010 and how hard things were
for us--and it was hard. My soul! Last winter was hard
and cold and lonely and unpleasant. And yet God really
showed Himself to us in myriad ways.
So it was good and bad.
Sometimes it takes the bad to make us aware
of how good the good really is.
Well, I kind of feel like this return to this job is a return
to "the way things used to be." It's like we are going
back to life before The Big Stink. Hopefully we are
wiser for all the bad smells we had to endure.
But there you have it.
Lloyd Dobbler has left the building.

In other news: I have a cold.
I started sneezing and having various issues with my
whole nasal region yesterday. I didn't think much about it
until last night. It was like I was just running out of
energy around supper time. I took a nice hot bath
and went to bed early thinking I'd wake up and be
normal again. That was not the case.
I am not normal. My nose is doing every ridiculous
annoying thing a nose can do.
My head hurts.
I keep sneezing.
And I am out of Kleenex.
I should just hook a roll of toilet paper to my belt today.
But I have to say, I'd rather me have a cold than any one
of the babes to be sick. I have had my fill of sick
children lately---I think I mentioned that. And the good news
is that since I'm neither growing nor feeding a child with
my body right now---I can take drugs!
Woo hoo.
If I am feeling tonight like I feel right now,
I'm going to break out my old friend NyQuil.
I love NyQuil.
I would take some right now if I weren't responsible
for the four babes under my roof. If I take NyQuil,
I have to follow it up by a couple of hours
of dead-to-the-world sleep.

We have piano lessons and ballet and Cub Scouts today.
And it's raining. But I don't care.
I feel like getting out. I feel like getting a nice big greasy
burger from somewhere. Having a cold always makes me
want to eat like a ravenous wolf. And it makes me want
something with flavor.
Like Mexican food. Or onions.
Or a big greasy fast food burger.
And they say "feed a cold, starve a fever,"
right?
Or is it the other way around?
I hope not because I am feeding this cold.
It's very hungry.

My! What a big mess you have!

All the better to get rid of things, my Dear Reader.

It is true. I have a big mess right now.
How glad I am that you cannot see the state of things here
at the homestead. Haven't you ever set out to clean up things,
or even just one thing, and the next moment you are
tearing the house apart, rearranging things, going through
stuff....making a big mess....but feeling like
you are making progress.
That has been me today.
I didn't intend to do any of this today.
I don't know what my intention was when I set out. I didn't
go to church at all today due to lingering sickness in
Sweet T. This morning was kind of peaceful and normal.
I fixed lunch so that it would be hot and on the table when
Lloyd Dobbler and the big kids came in from church.
It was sometime after church that things went haywire.
I was just going to clean out that cabinet with the games
in it....That seems so long ago now.
Since then I have rearranged furniture
in several rooms, dragged out stuff from hither
and yon, emptied the downstairs changing table
(it's going away forever, the beginning of the end
of babydom in this house),
....oh, I can't even remember what all I've done at this point.
It's going to be better once I get everything put back into
some kind of order. I moved a little bookcase into the kitchen
where a lot of schooling happens. I rearranged things in the
guest room which is my retreat---
that's where my comfy chair is that I go to
first thing each morning. I've got pictures
down from walls, books dumped out in piles,
all kinds of havoc.
But it's progress. It's a good kind of a mess to have.
And I am trying to get rid of some stuff as I think about it.
Baby steps.

We've started reading
Andrew Lang's Blue Fairy Book.
Many of the stories in these collections are familiar,
but these are the "old school" versions. They aren't softened,
prettied up, or made politically correct. I think
I prefer that. Yesterday we read Little Red Riding Hood.
It was a brief story. The wolf ate the grandmother and then
he ate Little Red Riding Hood when she came
to the grandmother's house. And that was the end
of the story. No woodsman came in to cut open the wolf's
stomach so that Granny and Little Red could step right out,
unharmed. There was no saving of the day.
The old lady died.
The little girl died.
Everyone died.
And that was the end.
Goodnight, children. Sweet dreams.


Do we make things too rosy and easy
for children today?

I read an article this week (here it is) that made me think
about the way I make things easy for my children.
I'm not saying I'm going to become a Chinese mother like
the ones described in the article, but I could stand to be
a little more Chinese than what I am.

Bell is a H.S.P.R.

Greetings, Dear Reader.
I am happy to report to you that at this very moment
while I am typing these words to you,
the sun is shining.
I'm so thrilled to see that ball of fire in the sky!
And I am seeing patches in the snow today. I'm so ready
for that. The last two days I got to leave the house
and both times I had "issues" in the driveway upon
my return. On Friday I couldn't make it up the hill.
I was no George Jefferson with my whole lot of strivin'.
I tried it slowly and that was the problem.
I lost momentum.
Lloyd Dobbler had to come to my aid. He rolled us
back down the hill and around the block, coming up the
driveway like we were in the General Lee---and we
made it up the icy hill and into the garage.
So yesterday when I returned home with groceries,
I came zipping in at top speed and made it up the hill.
It was at the top of the hill, just outside our garage,
that I somehow got off of the concrete and the
silly ol' van just decided not to move for me.
Lloyd Dobbler had to come out again.
And I don't really know what he did to get it
going that time, but he did it. Whatever it was.
I told him that was why I married him.
To maintain the electronic/technological devices in my life.
And to get the van when it's stuck in the snow.
I think that's a direct quote from our vows.
Imagine how pleased I was to have the forethought
to cover that situation.

I cleaned out a cabinet today that was having serious
over-crowding issues. It's the main location for games
in our house. I now have a stack of games to go
to Somewhere Else. Some place yet to be determined.

I start these piles, or boxes, of things to get rid of.
I do this thinking I will just take the stuff to Goodwill
or some place like that since Lloyd Dobbler is very
anti-yard sale. So I started collecting a pile of things
to which I want to sing "Happy Trails" and then my in-laws
come to visit. My mother-in-law, bless her heart,
will go through my pile of cast offs and say "I can sell this."
And she usually ends up taking all of it back home with her.
She is a wheeler and dealer in this department
(and she has way more time than I do to deal with these things).
She takes stuff to a re-sale shop down there or puts it
on Craig's List. She has called me at regular intervals
lately saying "I have some money for you."
Those are the kind of phone calls I like to receive.
(If you too would like to call me and tell me how much
money you are going to send me, I'll be glad to
give you my phone number.)
Just today she called and said she had fifty bucks for me.
Lovely. You can't imagine how much I appreciate
her doing things like this.
I have a really good mother-in-law.

By the time they come for Sweet T's birthday,
I hope to have much more for her to take home with
her. I have been mentally preparing myself for
paring down here at the homestead.
And I think the mental prep is going well because
I am beginning to just get rid of stuff. I am throwing
away more stuff. I am buying less.
But keep this in mind: this is coming from
a Highly Skilled Pack Rat though,
Dear Reader, so don't get a mental image of a
minimalistic house when you think of me.
No. Far from that.
But I'm baby stepping.
Everything I get rid of helps.
Every single thing.
Having said that, there's a drawer in my kitchen
that has been living it up and partying with every
piece of junk it could lure into its wicked depths.
And I have had all I can take from that disorderly drawer.
I am going to go in there right now and have
a heart-to-heart with that rebel.
One of us is going to come away from
this encounter lighter and more attractive.
And it ain't going to be me.
Although I wish cleaning out a drawer could make me
both lighter and more attractive.
I'd be cleaning out drawers like no body's business.

In Which Bell Wants Everything Over-Sized

I love office supplies.
I was just thinking about that as I admired
my over sized paper clip in my school planner.
This morning while getting something else out of my nightstand,
I discovered this stack of blank over-sized index cards
---the kind of cards that we usually just call "3x5" cards,
only if they are over sized, then they obviously are
not 3x5. I think these are 5x8.
They are my favorite cards to have everywhere.
They are very friendly and helpful. You can take messages
on them, write to do lists or grocery lists or copy off a recipe.
And people always act like they are something wonderful.
"Oh, where did you get these?" they will say.
And it's an index card.
But it's large and lined and wonderful.
Just another one of the office supplies
that has found a place in my heart.

Me and my office supplies have been
doing a little paper work today (on this last morning
of sickness---I am making an official proclamation:
this is the last day of sickness
in this house for this semester!
They better get it all in today.).
I counted up and realized that we have 83 days left
in this school year. That's good enough. I like to be
at least half way at Christmas (half way is 90 days).
So considering we have wasted this week (five days down
the toilet!), I'm okay with where we are.

This is the time of year that I begin to think we will
start our first semester of school during the summer for the next
school year. It's never hard to get the kids motivated
during warm weather. We can do school in the morning
easily if Mr. Popsicle's pool is waiting for us after lunch.
Or some other pleasant summer activity. I have several
home schooling friends who do that. They always say they'd
rather be doing school in those dog days of summer when
it's too hot for any thing else. And here on this snowy day
in January where I am looking down the barrel of
83 more days of school, I am seeing the wisdom of that.
My over sized paper clips and I are in
agreement on this matter.

But find me in July
and see if I am still of this mind.
I might be too busy hanging out with my
over sized stapler to be bothered with school.

Want something to eat?

My kitchen is a big mess right now.
I have about an hour's worth of work to do.
I cooked this nice meal, you see.
Pork chops. Scalloped potatoes. Green beans.
Corn on the cob. Homemade bread.
I thought it would be a nice thing, after all these
snowy days (not that I haven't been cooking the usual
three meals a day anyway, but I just thought this seemed
like a cozy meal for a cold night).
Just a nice meal with the family.
Well, we have the sicky sickos, you might recall.
They feel better in spurts. But come meal time, they are
all near death and want nothing to do with my offerings.
Even their father tonight.
He's not sick, but in anticipation of being sick,
he's passing on the meal I made.
I kind of feel like throwing it all out into the back yard.
Maybe some pack of dogs will come by
and appreciate it.


I am a silly person to even complain about this.
I mean, what in the world do I have to complain about?
There are people all over the world suffering and
experiencing tragedy. I am just a pampered,
spoiled rotten, lazy American.
Right?

Sorry I've been so sour and sarcastic an gripe-y lately.
More than usual, I am afraid.
I'll try to get into a better frame of mind.

Take my trainer, please.

If I didn't have to go to bed at a decent hour,
I would get so much more done. Every night
around 10 p.m. I am thinking of 100 things to do.
And I would do them right then---except that the rest
of the family is asleep, everyone but Lloyd Dobbler, who
begins to prod me to get into the bed at this time.
I'd like to drag out the vacuum cleaner or clean out
a cabinet at that time. When Lloyd Dobbler had the job
where he traveled all the time, he was often gone on
weeknights or else got home very late.
Of course I only had two babes at that time and I was not
educating anyone then, but I was able to be on top of
things so much better because I did my work at my
peak time---night. I'm a night owl by nature.
But I've been forced to live as someone who is not
naturally nocturnal. Kind of like a superhero forced to live
like one of the common people without super powers.
Not that housekeeping is my super power.
Please. Have you seen my house?
But back then I could run into a phone booth and change
identities for a while. I didn't have to accommodate others.
The kids were little and they could have slept through
it if I was vacuming their very bed.
I used to clean the bathrooms and vacuum
and dust and all of that kind of thing starting around 10 p.m.
The kids were in bed. It was just easy for me to get stuff
done at that time of day. That's when my mind comes alive
and I feel motivated. That's when I would always
START my homework---10 p.m.
Last night I dug out my Christmas present (the wii fit)
and finally unboxed it and plugged it in and all of that.
I did this at 9 p.m. or so. The kids were all in bed
(I'd had my fill of their sick, pitiful selves yesterday---once again,
aren't you glad I'm not your mother?---and put them all in
bed as early as possible).
So the house was quiet and Lloyd Dobbler was in the
basement so I just wii fitted myself. And here's the thing:
I wanted this because I have no time when I can ever tear
myself away from my posse and go exercise.
I have no exercise equipment---except a yoga mat that
reminds me how much I enjoyed that when going to
yoga twice a week was still an option.
But is this really going to help me in any way?
This video game with word "fit" slapped onto it.
Would I be better off walking to Subway
each day with Jared?
'Cause he goes right by my house.
And if there's anything that would burn up calories
and brain cells and patience, it would be walking
anywhere with my four at this point in time.
(this may be my cabin fever talking---coupled with the
overworked Florence Nightingale who is really not even
there inside of me to be summoned forth)

I'm just wodnering if there's going to be any benefit
to doing this. If it is actually a worthwhile investment
of my time. I guess it is. It's better to be standing on a
board leaning left and right to get little balls to roll through
a hole or make fish jump onto your penguin than to be
sitting on the couch doing nothing.
I have to tell you, though, that this is doing nothing
for my self image. That wii did everything except
throw itself at me in disgust as I worked on the "balance"
things last night. It would show my my little person
pounding the ground in sorrow and flash on the
screen its favorite name for me: UNBALANCED.
It even asked me if I trip a lot when I walk.
I didn't know I purchased the Don Rickles
version of the wii fit.
So forget any fitness goals. I'd just like to get to
where the wii isn't insulting me.



I am looking at 2011, Dear Reader, and I am excited
about things on our horizon. There is the potential
for major changes that, I believe, will be getting us back
on the path we should be on. I am glad about this.
It's funny how other people looking at your life see it
differently than you do when you are the one in it. I have
had a number of people who know about one situation
in our life say to me, "Oh, I am praying that doesn't happen."
And I just have to say "Don't pray that!"
Something that they think is a BAD thing is
actually NOT a bad thing.
We want it to happen. We are trying to get to where it will
happen. It's a good thing whether or not it looks like
that from the outside. So let's hope for these things to
work out in this new year ahead of us. I have been praying
about it all for a long time. I am anxious to see what
God is going to do in our life.

All I am going to say about the snow around here is this:
enough already.
It will take forever to melt. And it's going to be ugly gray
sludge for weeks. This is why I don't love the snow.
And snow seems be to like fish and visitors:
after three days it stinks.

Have a lovely day, Dear Reader.

Unpublished Bell

Never mind that we already have six inches of snow here
at the homestead. It's snowing again.
"It's like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife."
If you are my age, you will remember that line from
a song in your high school days. You might also
remember this one:
You can't touch this!

Is there anyone who doesn't laugh or at least smile and
roll their eyes at the very thought of that song? Do you
remember the pants? The hammer pants? I remember
this guy wearing those to school. The whitest white guy
in the world. And it's not like he was Mr. Fashionplate.
But he wore hammer pants. I wonder if he has nightmares
about that to this day. I wonder whatever happened
to him. Oh great. Now I have to look for him
on facebook. Won't it be funny if he's a fan
on facebook of MC Hammer? Or if that little box
that says "write something here about yourself" says
"You Can't Touch This."

Last night Lloyd Dobbler and I were cleaning out a couple
of boxes in the basement. I was just trying to get through
the piles of stuff. We only had a little time set aside for
this activity. Lloyd Dobbler, on the other hand, wanted to
talk about every single remnant from him childhood.
And show it to me.
He had this whole folder full of this fantasy baseball game
he created. He kept statistics on the games and the
imaginary players. It is the kind of thing that you might
show me if you were hoping to gently guide me into
a coma. He better be glad he didn't show that to me
before we got married. We might never have
made it down the aisle.

I found this folder of writing I did for a particular class in
college. Creative writing. I remember thinking the teacher
in this class was a total ditz. And why she was teaching
this class, other than she was some single woman near
40 who probably loved poetry or something....and at a small
Christian college, I don't think they worry too much about
who is doing what in the English department. She would
tear apart my papers with her little red pen and then at the
end ask if she could have a copy of it for her "good paper file"
or for her own personal collection or whatever.
Reading stuff I wrote so long ago was very interesting.
It was like meeting up with someone you knew briefly.
Something about them was familiar, but I think I was able
to look at them objectively. There was one that was
so immature. Painfully so. I can't believe I ever
turned it in. I wonder what our assignment was
for that specific paper. But there were a couple that
I read that were worth being proud of.
I was pleased with them. Makes me wish I had time to devote
to that currently. I always have the hope of writing someday.
I used to have this quote posted in my bedroom that say:
Take time to write. You can do your life's work
in half an hour a day.
I wonder if I could. I think that I could,
but I wonder if I ever actually will.
I don't want to just add more poorly written words to the
world (any more than this blog, let's say). I would want
it to be worthwhile. But you know what?
I was thinking about that the other day when I was standing
in a Goodwill looking at this whole wall of books.
Books that were some one's pride and joy when they were
first published. For some reason I was thinking of
Ernest Hemingway and how he started out.
A phenomenal American novel was not the first thing
to come from his typewriter. He wrote lots of things.
Anything he could at first. It takes a lot of writing,
I think, to get to where you are good at it.
That's why all those novelists from his era worked for
newspapers and magazines. They worked at their craft.
Constantly. Daily. In ways less grandiose
than anyone dreams of. I wish I had thought about that
when I was younger. I used to have a better grip
on things. I wonder if I have forgotten everything I knew
or if it is laying dormant.
Maybe I will be the Grandma Moses of the literature world.
I'll be Grandma Bell, the amazingly old and yet
surprisingly good novelist.
Or maybe not.
I think I am getting a little old to still be wondering
what the future may hold for me.

Well enough of the contents of my head for today.
My good friend is coming by to see me in an hour
and I haven't even had a shower yet this morning.
I must get myself in gear and get moving.
Who knew this laptop would make me so prone to laziness?
I love sitting here with my cup of tea
and all the www.'s in the world.

I was looking back today and laughing and rolling my eyes at some things I have said to you in the past. But let's hear from a woman who I never grow tired of---Ruth Bell Graham. If you go here, you will see a poem a shared with you on a snowy day long passed.

Snowy, snowy night

It is the end of that snowy day now.
My quiet moment on the porch this morning set the tone
for this quiet, still day My one sick child is slowly
becoming three. The one who has been sick all weekend,
Big E, is on the mend. The best nurse in the world,
Lovely K, who was so kind to Big Sick E over the weekend
(as she always is to anyone who is ill--she definitely has the
gift of mercy) has been down all afternoon with glassy
eyes and a major headache. And Sweet T has glassy
eyes and crankiness which, we know, are the first
signs of illness in a four year old.
So I'm thinking maybe we will have several days
of this fog of nothingness in our house.
Perhaps it is a good time to have snow days when we
are also having sick days. We can just
snug in and be cozy and get better.

Good news on the kitchen trauma.
Lloyd Dobbler's father, a retired GE employee (did his
whole career with them) called to people high up on the
totem pole in that company. It seems that between us,
Lloyd Dobbler's parents and his brother, quite a few appliances
have been purchased in the past few years.
Quite a few.
I know there were 3 or 4 kitchen remodels in the mix,
a new house or two....so when I say several, believe me,
there were several. And evidently there have been
several "issues" with these several appliances.
So if you complain to the right people, you get co-operation.
Somebody with some power called us today.
It seems the cook top we have is no longer available.
Because it is "bisque." That's the color of it.
It's bisque. (Off white.)
And bisque is no longer an option if you are purchasing
GE appliances. It's black, white, or stainless.
But they do have replacement parts
(I'm wondering why they can't put all the replacement parts
together to make a new whole? But that's just me.).
So they are sending us that slab of glass that makes up
the cook top. Hopefully we can replace the cracked one
with this new piece and return to glory days in the kitchen.
This is the plan. So isn't that lovely to have a company
actually stand by their stuff?
I am pleased with GE.

I watched part of Wives and Daughters on Netflix today.
Every time I watch these movies from the 1800's,
I want to wear dresses like those they wore.
Those high waisted, cotton morning dresses. Only not the
version with the LOW neckline where their bosoms are
out there for the whole world to see. I wonder how
common that really was. There was much more of a sense
of propriety and modesty then than there is today.
I wonder how many regular women would have worn
that LOW neckline version. I won't tell you what I read
in a historical reference book one time when looking up
something related to this matter. Let's just say that there
was a fad among the French in that era
(of course it would be among the French)
to take matters a bit further.
Like the limbo neckline.
"How low can you go."
And the fad was to go a little lower than you would think.
I was quite surprised at what I read.

I don't know if I have told you this lately,
but I am too old to be having a baby. Not that I'm
having an additional baby. I am referring to the one
that I already have. And he is just 12 months old.
He's still a baby. He'll always be my baby,
but won't they all?
What I am saying is that having a baby at my age makes it
very easy to realize that the quiver is full. Somebody asked
me the other day if it was sad to me when
my baby turned one recently.
Sad? No. I'm ready to move on.
We've had four rounds of this. While I am enjoying
Baby J's babyhood and it is sweet to mark all these
milestones in his life, it is also sweet to know that these
are the last times we will do these things.
When he outgrows the baby clothes, they go out the door.
No more saving everything.
When he is past a stage, we are done with it for good.
So when he gets off the bottle, every bottle in this house
will be knocking on the donation door of Goodwill, looking
for a new home. And just think, when he starts using the
real potty, that will be the end of diapers.
Woo hoo. The end of diapers.
If I had all the money I have spent on Pampers over the
past 11 years, well, I would have a nice
pile of money to be sure.
But the end of diapers?
The end of wipes?
And I say Bring it on!
I am ready for the next stages in my life.
I'm going to be 40
(like Sally in When Harry Met Sally---not on my next
birthday but SOMEDAY.
It's out there. It's on my horizon.).
I'm too old to be carrying a diaper bag and sticking my finger
in some body's mouth to fish out a Lego block or a broken crayon.
I'm too tired at the end of the day to keep a constant eye
on a tireless baby who waits for every opportunity to slip
out of sight and climb up the stairs
(remember the broken baby gate?).
I've got a one track mind and (like Sammy Davis's eye)
"it was lookin' the other way."
I'm just ready to advance to the next level.
You mothers of three or more children
know what I'm talking about.

Okay.
So the snowy morning is now a snowy night.
I'm going to have a decaf cappuccino and watch the third part
of Wives and Daughters once I get these little sickos tucked
into their nice warm beds. I hope you have a lovely
evening, Dear Reader.
Stay warm.

Do You Hear What I Hear?

This morning I stepped out on the porch to take
a couple of pictures of the snowy scene that met me
there. I think we got 5 or 6 inches of snow and they
continue to threaten us with more.
(It amazes me how happy and excited people on
facebook are about the snow. I don't get it.)
I was struck with how very quiet the snow makes things.
Not that I live in New York City where you always hear,
you know, city sounds and neighbors and sirens and all
of that. But it was unusually quiet. Strangely quiet.
I felt like if someone a mile down the road said something
on their porch, I would hear it.
And then back inside my house, as I was carrying
Lloyd Dobbler's tray of breakfast down to him in the
basement (what a good wife am I!), I paused on the steps
because I realized I had left my computer
on in the dining room
and over the other sounds in the house at that time,
I could hear Paul McCartney's voice singing
"The Long and Winding Road" (which, by the way, is a
favorite song of mine---that and "Yesterday,"
I just love those two songs.
And it's not the same with any one else singing it. It has to
be Paul McCartney.) That song is on the juke box,
by the way, in case you want to take a minute and listen
to it and say, "You know what, Bell, that is a beautiful song."
Even as I say that, I am thinking of someone who does not
like the Beatles or anything related to the Beatles and
would rather chew their arm off than listen to any song
by them. A friend of mine who is somewhat anti-Beatle
had her small child, when he saw a picture of John Lennon,
ask "Mommy, is that Jesus?" For some reason I always
think of that and laugh. It just
seems funny to me.

Right now we have NPR on the radio in the kitchen
and I am half-way listening to it. All the talk about the
repercussions of this horrible shooting in Arizona----sigh.
Sometimes people just take something and try to make
a whole other thing about it. Trying to connect things
that are not in reality connectible. You know what
I mean? I'm not NPR's target audience anyway. But after
a few hours of them, my eyes are tired from rolling.
At the same time, there are things I like about them.
I like their human interest stories.
I like some of their international coverage.
But they are so biased on anything pertaining to
our government. Spare me. Right now they are
blaming the shootings in Arizona on Sarah Palin's use
of gun terminology in her public speaking and on her
websites. I'm not a Sarah Palin cheerleader by any stretch
of the imagination, but I am pretty sure that the nut job
who fired that gun this past week was not motivated
by Sarah Palin. And the whole gun control topic. Oh man.
When NPR starts talking about guns, I've got to
turn off the radio. The eye rolling becomes
not enough.

Another sound we hear right now here at the homestead
is the sound of Sesame Street in the living room.
Yes, I am trying to turn my baby's brain to mush
at this very minute. What can I say?
I'm not one of those homeschooling mom's in my denim
jumper, making a loaf of bread and never allowing my
children to see a television set turned on.
Nope. I'm not.
There are many ways in which I need to improve,
but I have to say, using Sesame Street to help entertain
my one year old, that's not something I'm going to give up.
It didn't cause any of my other children brain damage
so we're going to plow on. Not that I love Sesame Street
any more than I love NPR. But there are good things
about it. You just have to know when to hold 'em, know
when to fold 'em, know when to walk away,
and know when to run.
That's what my Uncle Kenny always told me.

Lloyd Dobbler suggested we have a snow day today.
If ever there was a family who did not NEED a snow day,
that would be us. We have been so lax since Christmas.
And I was all prepared to get our noses back to the
academic grindstone this morning. I was ready to
crack the whip.
But this snow just "rained on my parade."
So to speak.
I could use the day to get some stuff done on the
paperwork/organizational side of things. If only I would.
If only I would stop trying to talk to famous guitarists
and watching documentaries about concentration camp
survivors in Terre Haute, Indiana.
If only I would stop wearing my pj's half the day
and using every possible excuse for postponing
necessary things.

I was thinking about posting the three new recipes
that I have enjoyed lately, but I don't want to turn
into allrecipes.com here. Maybe later.
But I'll have to give them to you one at a time.
Don't want to overwhelm you with my culinary magic.
I was also going to tell you about my sympathetic heart
overflowing yesterday as I drove around my small town
and thought about the various difficulties faced by people
in this little town as well as in this nasty, cold world
in which we live---I am so thankful for my small, simple,
peaceful life. I also wanted to talk about
the Kennedy Center Honors. Did anyone else watch that?
And then I had trauma in my kitchen yesterday
morning that just seemed like a straw that might
possibly break the camel's back at the moment.
You know how something can happen and you
just think "That's it!" You just want someone to
yell "cut and wrap" and you get to walk off the set of this
life and into some other life. I felt like that yesterday
morning. But I got over it.
Of course I felt like that again in the afternoon when,
less than an hour after I bought a much needed baby gate,
the baby gate proved to be worthless. Not that Baby J
conquered it in some way. No. But it just flopped down
and broke when a gentle breeze passed its way.
I bought it at Walmart so I'm sure it was made in
some other country where the babies, obviously,
are weaker than gentle breezes.
Or maybe they wouldn't dare touch the baby gates
because they are just so thankful not to be in the
overcrowded orphanage down the street.
Or dead.

Wow. I wonder if the sarcasm and acidity in my head
is translating in my words this morning.
I don't know why I am in this mood.
(I'm going to blame it on NPR.)
Stick with me.
I'll be silly and peppy again.

Enjoy your snow day today, Dear Reader.
Unless you are in San Diego and you are not exactly
having a snow day. If you are in San Diego,
1) tell Jason Mraz that I said hello and
2) why haven't you invited me to come visit you?
I love San Diego.
I would live in San Diego if it weren't so expensive
and if it weren't so far away from TN.
I didn't even know you lived there.

It is a lovely day, Dear Reader.
Be a part of that loveliness.
I'll try to do the same.

George Washington held his own wooden teeth.

Remember at the end of 2010
when we were trying to visit every member
of the medical profession in the state (or so it seemed)?
Well, one of those visits included dental cleanings/check ups.
The dentist we go to now is the one Lloyd Dobbler had
gone to ever since he moved here (almost 20 years ago).
My dentist had retired a few years back and I was just
kind of drifting, not going to the dentist, not knowing who
to go to. Then when we started having children with teeth,
they had to go somewhere and eventually we have just
all ended up going to Lloyd Dobbler's dentist.
This dentist is an older man with a small practice.
He runs it like a tight ship of which he is captain. I think
the dental hygienist there has some serious OCD issues.
Not that she's neurotic or bizarre, but I think she's just
like one of those people who does the same thing every day
to the minute, has this perfectly ordered life, and would
freak out if she had, oh, I don't know, something like
a hair out of place or an interruption.
I can't imagine being like that.
And you know that I am absolutely NOT like that.
I'd be surprised to have all my hairs in place on any given
day. And to go without interruption for more than five
minutes, well, that would mean either the kids are all
asleep or you have the wrong person.

Anyway, when I had that cleaning that day in late December,
the dentist came in to look at my teeth.
They always make those ominous comments about
the teeth they are keeping an eye on. But then it was
time that he had to say something.
He had to make some kind
of remark to me about my teeth. I almost think he was
disappointed that he couldn't say that something was wrong
or needed to be fixed. So do you know what he said?
In this strange, hesitant way, he said,
"Well....it looks like you're holding your own."

Holding my own?

What am I? Some 102 year old woman
hoping to keep my last two teeth?
What kind of thing is that to say?
Holding my own?
He just couldn't say something nice.
"Good check up today, Bell."
"Keep up the good work, Bell."
No. No, he didn't say that.
And he even made what he did say sound worse
than it could have. You could say "you're holding your own"
with a smile on your face and positive tone and it might
sound like a good thing. Almost a compliment.
But no.
He made it sound like "I can't believe your teeth
haven't all fallen out of your head,
but they haven't...so carry on."


So here I am with my disappointing teeth.....holding my own.
What did he expect? I don't really have any plan for
restoring my teeth's youthful appearance. What can I do?
Try to make them look small like baby teeth again?
Make them run laps around my mouth?
I thought that the opposite of cavities and problems
was GOOD! It's supposed to be a pat on the back
when you've prevented the dentist from being able to
suck any more money out of your wallet.
I guess some dentists just can't be happy
with problem-free teeth.

And don't say it's just that dentist's way.
It's not. To hear Lloyd Dobbler tell it,
they celebrate when he comes through the door.
"Oh, Lloyd Dobbler," the dentist tells him when it's
time to comment on the teeth, "If everyone had teeth
like yours, I'd be out of business."
And then they give him a balloon
and a toy out of the prize drawer.
And what does the wife with the boring teeth get?
Sigh. Oh well.....she's just holding her own.

I didn't have anything of interest to tell you today.
(And how is that different from any other day?
I don't know. Humor me.
My dental hygiene has been called into question.)
I just wanted to let you know why I am doubting myself as I go get ready for bed. I'll be up there brushing my teeth and pondering this statement about my teeth.
I'll be up there holding my own.
It's the least I could do.

If everyone had a dentist like mine,
we'd all need a psychiatrist too.

Who was your teenage heart throb?

Hello lovely Dear Reader. How are you today?
It's a gray, rainy day here at the homestead. They are
threatening us with snow, but I really think it's just a threat.
You know how excited I get about the stupid snow. I'm sure
my parents have full gas tanks though. The threat of snow
always sends them to the gas station. They are
good southerners, born and bred.

Speaking of my parents, I was with them today.
I went to their house and looked at the chaos. Have I told
you about their craziness? Oh my. There was flooding in
their kitchen and it has just been like someone took
the lid off of Pandora's tool box. It has become a major
ordeal. They have discovered a big problem underneath
the house---and I have to say, they are handling it
so well. They are just kind of shaking their heads and
getting it fixed. I mean, it has to be done. I think I would
be jumping around and kicking things and fuming if it
were me. So anyway, the fun part is
that there's going to be a new kitchen.
New cabinets and floor and all of that.
And there has been this dark, 1970's kitchen
there all this time. They are looking at white cabinets
and wood floor and a whole new shape to the kitchen
layout. I am so excited about it for them. My mom
will just be so pleased once it is finished and she deserves
a nice, new kitchen. She spends enough time there.
She never demands things for herself at all. So she needs
to do this right and enjoy it. And I am just excited
for them and for the finished product.

I feel like this week is just something suspended in air.
Remnants of The Big Stink of 2010 are haunting
us still and that's not very fun. We have started
school, but it hasn't been our normal school.
It's much more UNschooler activities.
Not at all the norm for us.
But it hasn't been a bad transition from our holiday revelry.
(Can't say that word without think of KOL
--you know how I love those boys)
Next week the whip will have to crack.

Lovely K read the first Elsie Dinsmore book last week
and really enjoyed it. A friend has #3-#28, so if we can find
the second book, then she is set for that whole series.
I love that she has become an avid reader. She sets her
alarm in the morning so she can read before the days starts.
She keeps her light on at night reading until we have
the LIGHTS OUT call. I am so glad that she is doing this.
I want to encourage it as much as possible.

I got Andrew Lang's The Blue Fairy book at the library
today. I've been formulating these lists of books I want
to read---'cause I have just so very much time to sit
around and read. But I want to! I wish I could.
And I want to make it more of a priority.
Have you read G.K. Chesterton? He's on the list.
And I think I need to get the George Macdonald books
that I want on audio. I've read a tiny smidge of him in the
past and I think that at this stage of my life, I would do
better having someone read his work to me while I'm
making a meal or cleaning or something.
No offense to you, long dead Mr. Macdonald.

I need to share two recipes with you that were new
to us this week. They both passed the test and that's
always a good thing. They are just basic comfort-food
types of dishes. I'll share them with you later.
I don't have time right now. I've got to get cracking
on tonight's supper---it's an old favorite:
Salsa Chicken and steamed broccoli.

Oprah is on right now. It's like teen heart throb reunion day
or something. The Backstreet Boys are on there. I am
surprised at how they look. One of them looks young
and cute still. A couple of them look really old.
Surprisingly old. And they were a hit with girls
younger than me. I think I was too old to be interested
in a boy band when they came out. Or else I just
didn't like them, I don't know. I don't really remember
what the situation was. I just wasn't a fan. But I am
surprised at how they look. Except that tall blond one.
He must have a frightening portrait of himself looking
old in his attic. Or else he was a toddler when they
made their first recording. Now it's Peter Frampton
and he looks like somebody you'd like to be neighbors with.
He doesn't look like a rocker. Or a former heart throb.
His voice is totally the same.
Good for him. I love his way.

Okay, let's get that supper cooking!

Get Your Motor Running.....

What's up, Dear Reader?

It's the first Monday morning of this new year.

We are trying to get back into the academic saddle again this

morning. So far that has included a viewing of some Weird Al
videos---this is the kind of education you get from a
mother like me. I want them to know why I am singing
"Eat It" to them, where it came from, the meaning
of parody, the historical value of it
(which is approximately ZERO), etc. But we have moved on.
We have discussed changes in our routine and our approach
to some of our schooling. (At this point should I show them
the video for David Bowie's Changes? I think not. This
could go on forever---as I always told my friend Tiffany,
there's an appropriate song for every situation and if you
are with me, I'm going to sing it to you.)


I have to brag on
Baby J this morning
for being the
best baby ever.


We brought up the "fence"
this morning because not
only has the Ricky Nelson
come out in him
(making him a travelin' baby,
he's made a lot of stops all over the house...),
but he has begun to climb on things. The child
is not quite brave enough to let go of things and walk
on his own yet, but he will hike that leg up and climb
on anything that will give him a foothold. I have
never had a climber---or at least
not one who climbed on things
to the point of being a problem---so I hope that Baby J is not
going to carve out that niche for himself. I know he
wants to do things that he sees the big kids doing, and that's
why he will try stuff that the others wouldn't even have
thought of at his age. But I hope it's not going to make a
dare devil/crazy person out of him. We went through
that stage with"Sweet T where he was trying things
he was too young for
(and he's the "Cast Your Fate to the Wind"
type who doesn't worry about danger---I did not enjoy
that summer where we made several trips to the ER,
had a little cutie with constant scrapes and skins and busted
lips). Sometimes I think Baby J is going to be the more
cautious type, like Big E was (and is). But then Big E didn't
have big brothers on the scene teaching him to do stuff,
removing elements of danger, or catching him just before
he plunges into the depths.
We shall see.
But as for today, the child is sitting in his fenced in area
with a selection of toys, playing and being so sweet.
I almost forgot he was there.
Couldn't ask for a better baby.
What a joy he is.

Today is a gentle step into the academic realm. We aren't
doing all our subjects.
For Language Arts today, we are writing
paragraphs about our holidays and re-writing them until we
get them correct. I think that's a worthy investment of time.
For handwriting, we'll be cranking out
some thank you notes--
-and let's all cross our fingers that
the new and improved 2011 Bell will actually
mail the thank you notes that these children write. I am
so bad about having them write them, or me writing my own
thank you notes, and then they sit here on the counter
until it's three months later (or three years--I'm sorry to say
that is not an exaggeration in some cases) and then I just feel
bad and stupid for not sending them.

This week starts back other activities too.
Basketball. Piano. Dance. Cub Scouts.
And here I stand with no 2011 calender yet.
I looked for one at two places yesterday
and I could not bring myself to select either
the kitten or puppy option. And those were
the only two options.
I can't deal with a calender made for a
10 year old girl for twelve months.
No offense to 10 year old girls.
One of my favorite people in the world is a 10 year old girl.


And guess what kind of calender she has?

I either want one that reflects my personality
or a totally utilitarian one with no art work
--that's what I had last year. And we know
what a stink bomb last year proved to be.
Maybe it was because of my poor calendar selection.
I should get out and buy
a cute calendar immediately
before this year
goes down the toilet!


Well, Dear Reader, we both have more important things
to do with our newly resolved selves than to sit here
and listen to strange music selections.
So let us away!
And I'll see you again with more
mundane updates from my Ordinary Days.

Not So Silent Night

Just thought I'd share some pictures
from our Christmas Eve.
We always have a good time.
And is it just me or are my kids getting cuter and cuter?

The old year departed, how swiftly it flew,
'Tis gone, and with rapture
we welcome the new.
We trust a bright morning
will dawn on your eyes,
And sunbeams unclouded illumine the skies.
Then wake from your slumbers,
our serenade hear,
We wish you a happy, a happy New Year!