Cozy Cottage Dodge

For the past couple of years Isabela has participated in the National Pygmy Goat Association Raymond competition.

Our Pygmy goat, Dodge, is a family pet.

He is a wether, bought for the purpose of showing, but he quickly became a part of the family.  Izzy is my animal lover and can't seem to get enough of anything that has to do with animals.

This is Dodge's third competition, resulting in eight showings.  Together he and Isabela have five blue ribbons and three red.

After each show all first and second place goats gather for a champion competition.  Dodge has never won a champion competition, until . . .

this past weekend.  Saturday, March 27th, Cozy Cottage Dodge won Grand Champion Reserve Wether.

Wow.

Wish you could have seen my little girl's face.

Dodge, on the other hand, was not impressed.  He just continued to chew his cud, clearly not understanding.

The goats are judged on muscle tone, body measurements and proportions, head and expressions, coats, markings, barrells, rumps, and a bunch of other stuff I don't understand.  Remember, he's a pet, we are not goat farmers.  The goats are not judged on their behavior - until this last show.  The judge pointed out that the goats were all on equal standing except in behavior.  To this particular judge Dodge stood out because of this.

This makes us doubly proud of Izzy, her hard work paid off.  Dodge could have been judged on his merit alone, but she is what made the difference.  She feeds and waters him, loves and pets him, and practices daily before competitions getting him to walk by her side, go when she goes, stop when she stops, and generally behave like a champion goat should.  And, thanks to her, he did.

In the past she has left competitions slightly disappointed, jealously eyeing those fancy rossette ribbons with the custom inserts.  But not this time.

Hard work and persistance pays off, huh baby girl?

Congratulations to you and sweet Dodge.  He loves you for good reason and he said so Saturday, gifting you with that coveted ribbon.

Display it proudly - but remember, we are learning together, humbly.

A Source of Great Pride

Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves; vanity, to what we would have others think of us. Jane Austen

I want my children to be proud of themselves.  In my opinion I have gentle, hard-working kids.  Since they became old enough my two oldest have always worked a part-time job.  They pay their own way almost always, even buying their own shampoo.  (That's really their choice, not mine, but they refuse to use shampoo under $5 a bottle, so, they buy their own.)  They have always worked hard raising money for their trips.  They pay their own cell phone bills and car insurance.  Rarely is there much spending money left over at the end of a check, but they seem to make it work. 

The sacrifice of me staying home has been huge around here, but they seem to understand how their daddy and I feel about it and help out as much as they can.  They have always been quick to tell me they would choose having less over me working and us having more.  They don't expect over and above the basics from us but they know if we have it, it is theirs.  That goes for now and always.

I want them to be proud of their accomplishments, but not vain.  Teaching that is not always an easy job, because living it is not easy.  Because of our sinful nature, vanity is easy and humility is hard.

Never more so for their Mama than this weekend.  I found myself struggling to my innermost depths not to be vain about my children.  Pride was seeping out of my pores over my girls. 

Y'all know that this blog is my journal to record the goings on around here.  There was much going on this past weekend and over the next few days I will be preparing my remembrances of it.  I said all of the above to tell you ahead of time that I will try not to be vainly proud, but humbly proud.  The struggle from within me is that it is hard for me, was hard for me all weekend, to not expect others to think the best of my children. 

Mothering is not an easy job, is it?  There are always lessons to teach and teaching is hard when you are still learning so much yourself.  There is a fine line between pride and vanity. I know that.  Please be patient with me as I struggle through it this week.

And to my sugar darlins' - one day when y'all look back on this my wish is that you will remember with smiles and laughter.  I want you to remember your hard work and what you accomplished through it.  But please, my lovelies, remember from whom your talents are given.  Hold these gifts dear, realizing how quickly you can lose them if they are not treasured, understood, respected - and used.   Use them to the best of your abilities. And most importantly above all else, use them to the glory of the Giver, your Heavenly Father who was so generous.

The rest of this week will be dedicated to the memories of this past weekend, a very full weekend.   

Next week I will bring back my Tuesday Daybook and What the Word? Wednesday.

My darlins' - remember your Mama and Daddy were proud, and as I look into the future - are proud.

Mosaic of Little Things

“Women like to make sacrifices in one big piece, to give God something grand, but we can’t. Our lives are a mosaic of little things, like putting a rose in a vase on the table” (Ingrid Trobisch).

It is Monday.  I woke early and rolled over in bed.  I am alone, He's Too Good To Me's day began an hour ago.  I hugged my pillow and imagined it was Saturday.  A Saturday with no plans, no place to be, no urgent things to do.  Maybe a Saturday good for only picnics in the yard or tickles on the bed.

Reality reminds me it is Monday and my mind drifts back to last evening - late, after all were tucked safely in and dreaming of dogs and heros and chocolate chip cookies.  Sleepytown in jammies.

I remember last evening. 

I followed behind all the dwellers of my home and picked up this here, that there. I think of messiness.  I think of the messiness in my heart and push that away to concentrate on more manageable messiness.

There are dirty socks, or one sock.  To find the mate I must get down on all fours and look under the sofa.  There it is, just out of reach.  I flatten myself, stretch, and I have it.

Of course, there are glasses.  This one had milk, this one water.  A liquid drop of orange juice is in the third.

Magazines, mail, schoolbooks, and storybooks.

Batman lies on the rug, not far from some trains and cars.

Next is a phone charger hiding under the sofa pillows on the floor.

There is dust.  There are crumbs.

As I move from this to that, keenly aware of the fact that this is just one room of several needing a fast pick-up, I quietly admonish myself that this is the mosaic of my life.  It is not grand.  I may never do grand things in inner cities or foreign countries.  I may never save a life.  I may never move past where I am now.  I am a wife and mother who is never caught up, never dressed up, always putting up.

I remember my mood last evening and accept that this mood strikes me more often than I like to admit.  I earnestly strive to find some beauty or romance or joy to these moments.  Pearls and heels, maybe someone was on to something.

Now it is Monday morning and a new week has begun - one that will probably end the same as the last. As I throw back the covers I vow to remember this day as special - maybe even grand.  A Monday to rank right up there with the best of Saturdays.  Okay, maybe that's a little too pie in the sky, but, nonetheless . . .

My mind takes hold now on the messiness of my heart and doesn't want to let go.

To make heart and life grand I must live in the joy of my Lord and my world.

There is only one way to live in the joy of my Lord.  And that is to believe that my Lord gave me my life for my joy.

See?  I tell myself.  It's not even complicated.  But, it is purposeful.  It is conscious.

My life is a mosaic of little things working together to create a purpose in the grand scheme of big things.

I like it this way. Even when that mood strikes me, I like it this way.  My prayer is that my Heavely Father passes a different type of grand thing my way now and then.  Another chance to serve and give outside these walls.  In the meantime, may I take notice of how my mosaic of little things creates authors of grand things.

Sandra Bullock

I just got out of the shower and something weird happened to me in there.  I have a habit of praying in the shower.

Some people sing, I pray.  You don't want to hear me sing - not even in the shower.

In the shower I ask God what He wants me to pray for.  I have many selfish prayers on my heart all day every day, so when I shower I ask Him.

Sandra Bullock.

Yep, that's what He said. 

I responded positively, thinking to myself, "Is anyone praying for her?"

Lots of people are talking about her and laughing at her, but is anyone praying for her?

Sure, somewhere.  Now I am, too.

She used to be one of my favorite actresses. 

Lately, not so much. 

I enjoyed While You Were Sleeping, Hope Floats, The Net, The Lake House, even Speed. I know - Speed is supposed to rank up there with one of the worst movies, but I liked it.

Romantic comedies are my number one type of movie to not watch.  I can't express to you enough how I abhor them.  I'd rather watch a violent, foul-language war movie than a romantic comedy.

I abhor language, but not as much as sex jokes, homosexuality portrayed as a joke, and more sex jokes.

Drama, Sandra, that's what you should stick to.  Romantic comedies aren't what they used to be, so walk away.

But now Jessie has broken her heart in real life and I have been commanded to pray for her - and her marriage.  I will pray for Jessie, too, after I slap him around a few times in my imagination.

Mostly, I will pray for her salvation, because with that everything else always falls into place.  I'm not judging folks, but I do doubt . . .

I will pray for you, Sandy.  Now pick yourself up and go watch yourself in Hope Floats.  Then call Harry Connick, Jr. and see what he is up to.

No, wait, he's married isn't he? 

That doesn't seem to matter in their world.  Let's all join forces against Hollywood.

The force of prayer.

Don't Tell Anyone, she says

Don't tell anyone I got silly on the phone and cried like a fool.

Okay, I say.  I won't tell, I'll blog.

My friend's cat had kittens today.  I thought the cat was her daughter's, Emily, until this conversation hours after the kittens were born.  Now I know the cat, Sadie, really belongs to her.  You'll see what I mean.

She says . . .

I heard cat sounds and my feet hit the floor. 

She starts to cry.

I just got so goofy.

I went yelling through the house - we're having kittens!

I hear her sniffles.  Little does my friend know I have grabbed a pen and paper and am scribbling down every word she says.

I feel like a fool.

'Cause we rescued her and stuff.

More sobs.

I'm so proud of Sadie.

I feel giddy, like a grandma.

More sniffles.

I can't stop smiling.

Don't tell anyone I got silly on the phone and cried like a fool.

My friend is a sensitive soul.  Tears fall easily and freely from her eyes for many different reasons.  She hates to see others in pain.  Sad or angry or helpless or alone children break her heart.  Those burdened with cancer, because she is a survivor, weigh heavily on her heart.

She hates injustice and fears a difficult future for her children.

She cries tears, happy or sad, often.

She cries for me.  I rarely cry except when I am mad, but I can count on her to shed tears for my pain.

Remember this post, Do We Have to Remember?  I mention her.  S., I called her.  Since then when I mention her in my blog I just call her . . .

Don't tell anyone I got silly on the phone and cried like a fool.

Okay, I say, still scribbling. 

And don't blog about it, and if you do make me be S. again, so no one will know it's me.

No, my dear friend Sandra.  'Cause if you won't be proud of your sensitive and unselfish heart I will be for you.

What the Word? Wednesday

Welcome back to What the Word? Wednesday.

Today is more than just a word or phrase - are you ready?

Today you get a whole song. 

Please, calm down.

This is the first song Maxster has sang all the way through by himself.

No - it's not Jesus Loves Me.  As a matter of fact, it's not spiritual at all.  We are working on his priorities around here. 

As usual, post all guesses and check back tomorrow - same place, same time.

Looks like Emily watches Mickey Mouse Clubhouse - or understands Maxster.

This is Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.  Come inside, it's fun inside.  It's Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.

See 'ya next week.

Tuesdays Daybook

Outside my window...
it is beautiful.  Warm with a slight breeze.  The sun is lovely.

I am thinking...

about a surprise for What the Word? Wednesday tomorrow.

I am thankful for...
Ms. Karen and her quilting class.  Her generous nature and her patience.

From the learning rooms...
science co-op and Seabird this week.  A final test on the latest Math booklet so we can move on to the next one.

From the kitchen...

it is Tuesday so He's Too Good To Me will be at Bible study tonight.  The girls and I will probably have left-over Spaghetti Bake.   I have a new pasta and shrimp in foil recipe I'm excited about trying tomorrow night.  I'll let you know how it turns out.

I am creating...

?

I am reading...

more VBS literature.

I am hoping...
for an arrow shot from Heaven with a flaming note attached that has the answer to my knawing question.

I am hearing...
Handy Mandy and the dryer.

I am remembering...
how very much I miss talking to my sisters on the phone.

Words I am pondering...
"Sometimes I would like to ask God why He allows poverty, suffering, and injustice when He could do something about it."

“Well, why don’t you ask Him?”

“Because I’m afraid He would ask me the same question.”

(Anonymous) -a quote from A Hole in the Gospel, by Richard Stearn, President of World Vision.

Around the house...

fabric scraps everywhere.

One of my favorite things...
the start of softball season.

A few plans for the rest of the week:
the usual.  Izzy has a goat show Saturday and will be practicing with Dodge alot this week.  Hopefully we will have beautiful weather to spend the afternoons outside getting them ready.

A picture to share with you:

This is my mom with Delia and Shelby at The Little Lighthouse Tea Party.  The Little Lighthouse is a local school for physically and mentally challenged children through age six.  Delia has done some volunteer work there.  There was a hat contest, neither of my girls won, but don't they look great in their springtime hats?

Got Milk?

Got Milk?

Isabela Claire

I'm sitting at the computer and she walks in and leans over my desk.  Long legs are criss-crossed as her elbows rest inches from my keyboard, her fingers are cupped vertically over her mouth as she begins her story.  She's chewing cherry gum and I smell her sweet breath as she explains something she did three years ago.

She ends her story with, I wasn't that smart then.

She laughs and covers her mouth with her hand; a little self-conscious because she doesn't like the way her teeth are coming in.  Even at age ten it's obvious she has and will have beautiful hands.  Her fingers are long with strong shapely nails. There is a little mole on her left hand ring finger.  One day a wedding band will cover it and that's bittersweet because it is beautiful and unique.

I gaze into her eyes and move the hair back behind her ear.  It falls again, and I move it again.  I touch the two scars on her forehead.  Her face has big features - large eyes with long eyelashes that curl naturally, a nose growing a little faster than the rest of her face, and a wide mouth with full lips - until she smiles, and then the top lip nearly disappears. She's changing before my very eyes.  Slowly but swiftly.

She leaves and moments later returns again as her hands nervously play with the tie on her robe.  She's bargaining with me about her bedtime.  It's a nightly ritual.  

If I could go back in time I would study her face and write down every detail at every age.  The way it changed.  The way her baby face disappeared and became the face of a girl on the verge of the verge of womanhood.

But, I wasn't that smart then. 

What the Word? Wednesday

What the Word? Wednesday welcomes you back.

Here goes . . .






As you noticed, Max doesn't want that cookie, he wants a chocolate cookie.  He's a boy after his mama's heart.

Post all guesses and check back tomorrow to see if you correctly guessed what Maxster had to say.

Sugar, sugar sounds right but no cookie for y'all.

Maxster says, quite often I might add, 

You silly, silly, Mama.

Wow Words

I don't have my daybook done today and really don't have time.  But I do want to share this.

Everything I've been doing today has been in a hurry, and even though it has been a good morning, I can't get over feeling rushed.

There are just a couple of minutes now to spare before I pick up Izzy from Bible Drill practice and I clicked onto the computer to check emails and read my friends' Tuesday daybooks.  I can close my eyes and imagine them running their households by their words and I feel some much needed adult company.  Weird, I know.

While I was very quickly scanning, my friend Jennifer's words to ponder caught my eye and made me pause and take a deep breath.  This is them.

Words that I am pondering ... I'll just keep last week's words ... they bear repeating, I think.

"Does my life exhibit enough hope for someone to ask the reason for it? Maybe worse than not having a good answer is the possibility that no one even notices enough difference in my life to ask me about it." (See 1 Peter 3:15)

Wow.  I remember thinking Wow to them last week when I read them, but then they got caught in the clutter of my mind and forgotten.

Not this week.  Not again.  They are now hanging, along with another of my favorite, on the front door leading outside my home into the world.

Dear Father . . .

The Solid Rock

We went to the beach this past Friday.  Below are a few pictures of He's Too Good To Me showing Max how to build a sandcastle.

 

At first, Max didn't want to learn.  He just wanted to fill the bucket with some sand and turn it over - but when it didn't create a mound he was angry and frustrated.  After a little bit of reasoning, his daddy convinced him to try it his way.  Soon Max knew exactly what to do and how to do it.

Then the stick entered the story.  It was an impressive stick to the mind of my three year old and he instantly stuck it into the top of one of his sandhouses.  Of course, the sandhouse crumbled.

Sometimes when I read my Bible I find myself guilty of interrupting verses to fit my wants - if I place certain emphasis on a word or phrase here or there I can pretty much mold it into the words I want to hear - not the words God wrote for me.  So, lately I have started rereading the same verses in The Message version of the bible.  It is blunt and straightforward and I can't twist my interpretation into God's Word.  It is the Word in the form of a rock that hits me upside the head when I need hitting upside the head. Which is often, quite often. 

Such as this,

"But if you just use my words in Bible studies and don't work them into your life, you are like a stupid carpenter who built his house on the sandy beach.  When a storm rolled in and the waves came up, it collapsed like a house of cards."  Matthew 7:26-27

God has always been plain and forthcoming with His Word, but the use of today's language gives me no wiggle room in understanding exactly what He wants me to understand - and apply to my life.

Most of us have heard the story and sang the children's song, The Wise Man Built His House Upon the Rock.  Today I challenge you to sit down and sing it with your child.  If you don't know it, then learn it. 





Now let's question ourselves about how much we read and discuss while studying the Bible but then fail to apply to our lives.  Stupid, that's a serious word, but it is what we are when we walk that path of rebellion. 

Read Matthew 7:24-29 of God's Holy Word and commit or rededicate yourself to a life foundation built upon the rock.  The rock who is Christ Jesus Himself.  He is the wise path.  He is the only path to eternal salvation and a life that cannot collapse into an eternity of seperation from Him.

An acceptance of Jesus and God' Word - translated into any language or modern wording, with nothing added to or taken away from - is all one needs to build a foundation that is unshakeable by this world and all the sticks that can poke at us. 

And the best part of all - He's the master of second chances.  You get to rebuild your house as many times as you need to get it right.

Now that's impressive. At the conclusion of Jesus' teaching in Matthew 7, the crowd . . .

". . . burst into applause.  This was the best teaching they had ever heard." Matthew 7:28

I watched Max and realized the lesson of poking that stick into his weak sandcastle was just one of the many lessons he has ahead of him.  I then whispered another little prayer, one of the many ahead of me.

On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand.
"The Solid Rock" by Edward Mote

My Dear Friends

I'm beginning to get a little of that overwhelmed panicky feeling that I get when I'm behind in more stuff than I'm accomplishing.

That said, my dear friend Sandra said to me this afternoon,

You know it's all gonna work out, don't you?

I do now, dear friend Sandra.  Thank you and love you.  You are no longer just S.

I have another dear friend - who, along with Sandra, seems to "get me" -  that will be having a hard day today.  Sweet slowly turned to bittersweet and is now sour. 

Remember, I'll pick the bugs or help you hide.  Whichever you need.  Love you.

What the Word? Wednesday

Is it Wednesday again, already?  My, how time flies.  It was just Wednesday yesterday, I think.

Welcome back to What the Word? Wednesday.

This is a good one.  Maxster doesn't like what?





I wish you luck, you're gonna need it.  Not sure what the Sunkist bottle means.  Don't read anything into it.

Post all guesses and check back here tomorrow.  And a great humpday to all.

Both of my sisters got it right, but I have to admit there was a little family unfairness going on there.  I love my sisters, I hope you love yours if you have one.  There's nothing like a sister.

I don't like chicken enchiladas.

What's new, Maxster, there's hardly any food you do like.

Thanks for playing, see 'ya next week.

Tuesdays Daybook

Happy Bithday to Will.  Will takes care of all the younger boys while we have our Keepers at Home meetings.  This is a picture of him getting the legos ready for them.  A wonderful young man who makes his parents, of Mississippi Mama, proud.  We love him lots - Max would probably call Will one of his best friends.  Thank you, Will, for loving Max.  Happy Birthday to you.

Outside my window...
it is dark and rainy. Ucky, nasty, gross.  Dear Lord, thank you for this weather.

 I am thinking...

who in my house sheds so much?  Just keeping it real.

I am thankful for...

Shelby, who hates to clean a bathroom, but is too dear to say so.

From the learning rooms...

nothing today.  We are cleaning - it's HomeEc.  We will be reading some Seabird in the car back and forth.

From the kitchen...

nothing, and no plans for tonight yet.

I am creating...

piles of laundry.  Just keeping it real again.

I am going...

the usual, piano, followed by a long overdue hair appointment.

I am reading...

all of my Vacation Bible School literature.  Along with my friend, Sandra, we direct or church's VBS so there is much to study up on and plan.  This will probably occupy all of my reading time (like there ever was any) from now until mid June.

I am hoping...

for lots of Yeses when I call people about helping in VBS.

I am hearing...

Max looking for a screwdriver, Shelby looking for a wrench, Izzy at the toaster, Delia fixing a drink. Water running inside and out.

 Around the house...

we will be going out of town on Thursday evening.  If you remember this post, My House is Dirty and, "What if?", you know I will be struggling to clean all week.  Shelby and I set an early alarm and she is helping me on her off morning. Like I said, she is a dear.  Now, if I can just stay alive . . .

One of my favorite things...
knowing I'm going out of town for the weekend.

A few plans for the rest of the week:

 Keepers on Wednesday, we will be working on string art projects.  Thursday is a VBS staff meeting, musical practice, doctor's appointment, and leaving for the coast field trip.  Friday is playing on the beach and touring the marine center with our co-op class.

Schoolwork - what's that?  Oh, that. We will be doing it during the three hour drive there and back.

Here is a picture for thought I am sharing:

Isabela with her diorama on Hotel for Dogs.  The book, not the movie.  She and her little creative mind did a fine job.  It is on display with the rest of her Book-It pal's dioramas at our local library.

Thanks to Peggy @ http://thesimplewomansdaybook.blogspot.com/

I Remember What It's Like . . .

I Remember what it's like . . .

to be young and in love.

to think it can't get any better than this.

to think this is the worst thing that can ever happen.

to be eighteen and want to be twenty-five.

to have my mind wander everytime I looked at a textbook.

to be scared.

to be ten and want to be thirteen.

to want to play and play and play.

to be unsure but afraid to do anything about it.

to look at houses and dream.

to not get it, and think I never will - whether or weather, x = ?, twenty letter words, etc.

to doubt.

to know everything.

to realize I know nothing.

to not know which road to take.

to feel stupid.

to feel on top of the world.

to feel invincible.

I remember what it's like to be twenty, or eighteen, or ten.

My darlins' - it's not much different than now.

Mama said there'd be days like this. 

Lipstick

My boy is sweet - and honest.

While dressing him this morning we had this conversation.

Mama, wha tha on loo lis?  (what's that on your lips?)

Lipstick.

I don ike tha.  ( I don't like that.)

You don't like my lipstick?

No, I don ike tha.

You don't like mama's lips?

No. Bu I lou loo face.

Oh son, you are more than sweet. 

He's Too Good To Me's got some competition for the #1 place in my heart.

What the Word? Wednesday

What the Word? Wednesday. 
What the Word? Wednesday. 
What the Word? Wednesday.

Three is a good luck number, it's also his age, so Maxster says his word three times for you. 

Won't help.  You are all doomed this week. 

Ignore all the going to Borders talk and stick to the first word, which he says three times.

Won't help.





Post all guesses and check back here tomorrow for the answer.

Max, What's That Word?

Disgusting.  Disgusting.  Disgusting. 

When I first heard this word I never figured it out.  Izzy was getting him to say it and she had to tell me what it was.  It sounds like he has a mouth full of something.

I knew it was hard, but y'all were getting too good for me. 

Thanks for playing, I'll try to take it easy on you next week.  Or, maybe I'll give you the one he said today that I didn't think we would ever figure out.

Can you show me, Max?  Can you eat it?  Do you play with it?  Etc.

Tuesday's Daybook

A Happy Birthday to our friend, James.  We Love You!

Outside my window...
it is cold and has just stopped raining. 

I am thinking...

that I am tired of the cold and rain.

I am thankful for...

good friends I can call at ten o'clock in the evening for a bucket of wheat because of bad planning on my part - and they don't mind.

From the learning rooms...

we are studying Cephalopods this week in Apologia's Swimming Creatures of the Fifth Day.  They are a variety of amazing creatures that can have three hearts that pump blue blood, can make their own ink, and can be powered by jet propulsion.

From the kitchen...

Bread bowls (here) and beef stroganoff for Men's Bible Study tonight.  Side by side in the kitchen with my Shelby - one of my favorite places to be.

I am creating...

I do not like to make lists.  I have fought the fact for years now that I should make lists.  Makes me feel old and incapable to have to write things down.  I know it's silly, lists are so much more than a memory issue, but it is one of my many neurosis'.  I do like to write and doodle, and the idea of pasting makes me feel young, so starting this week I am trying this idea from Ann at Holy Experience.  I really am more of the used envelope kind of gal, but if this can become a habit I know I will enjoy it.  Twenty-one days, that's all it takes.  Today is day two.  Wish me luck. 

I am going...
no where today.  He's Too Good To Me accidently left with the carseat this morning.  I'm cancelling piano and a doctor's appointment for today.  Actually, I'm pretty grateful for this little mess-up, I have three batches of bread to make.

I am reading...

Green by Ted Dekker

I am hoping...

it's unspoken this week, but I'm really hoping.

I am hearing...
Calliou on the TV, the bread machine, Delia and Shelby getting ready to leave for the day, and Izzy practicing the piano.

Around the house...

the sweet music of above.

One of my favorite things...

friends who think of me and call to see if I need an old pair of cleats for Izzy - which I do.

A few plans for the rest of the week:

we will continue to work on Izzy's quilted wall hanging, we have Book-It on Wednesday, and co-op on Friday.  Housework this week is a must. 

Here is a picture for thought I am sharing:

Izzy won an attendance competition at our church Friday night during a magic show featuring the great Scott Humston.  She won this T-shirt -

On the front it says Don't Touch the Candy Cane! . . .

and on the back it says You Don't Know Where It's Been! OBEDIENCE . . . it's still hip! www. SCOTTHUMSTON.com

He did an adorable puppet show presentation on obedience.  Check him out.

Thanks to Peggy @ http://thesimplewomansdaybook.blogspot.com/

Should Have Already Done This . . .

This is something I should have posted forty-three days ago.  I let everything else (and a little illness) get ahead of showing you pictures of the beautiful birthday cake Shelby made for her and Max's birthday in January.

Lateness is a pet peeve of mine.  I'm late occassionally, but I try to be on time.  But I messed up here.  Apologies to my two lovies - and I must say, what a beautiful cake you made, Shelby.

I'm going to show you the inside first, 'cause it is my favorite part.

Yep, she's talented.  Trust me, they taste as good as they look.  Homemade buttercream icing, yum.

We needed a rainbow cake that night.  Mom planned our second annual scavenger hunt (check out last year's here) and it rained all evening.  We don't actually hunt things, she gives us a list of places we must go and things we must do and we bring back a photo of us doing it.  Even though it was wet and cold, she didn't let us off the hook, we had to scavenge anyway.

 



















They are not really eighteen and three.  This is a dream and tomorrow I will wake with babes in my arms.

Or so I would like to think . . .