Think of a Happy Place.
I need to clean my house. Alina’s 10th Birthday Party is tomorrow and this place is a mess.
I started in my office, and have finally finished it. But I can’t seem to make myself move on to the next room.
All because of this site.
Instead I am laying on the floor listening to:
a stormy beach
a nighttime campfire
a mountain morning
I must be stressed. Maybe it’s the idea of Frank’s stalkers coming to get me.
I’m concerned.
 You know how I am obsessed about lookinig up the search engine terms for my blog?
Well, here are today’s ….. frank gretchin |
|
| banzai sidewinder | |
| how to eat a kumkwat | |
| banzai sidewinder falls | |
| dog vomiting and heaving
There are a couple of things that concern me here: #1 Frank Gretchin is so much of a big shot, people on the internet are stalking him and it’s leadin them here to my blog. Which brings me to my second concern: #2 “Target house Cami”? Um… do you think they might have worded that phrase wrong and it should have been target Cami’s house? Is it the same crazies that are after Frank? So let me just say, I don’t know this Frank Gretchin guy. Leave me and my family alone! |
The Written Word.
What I’ve just finished:
Where my book mark’s at now:
My invention.
So, I contacted the people at Kellogg and am currently making big bucks for giving them this idea. I take all the credit.
All in the family.
I feel bad… this pic is 6 months old. But I felt worse never posting a photo of Charlie’s Angels.
So there they are. L to R: Alina Christine, Mackenzie Deanae, Reagan Nicole, and in front, Reese Joslyn.)
(If I could get my stupid camera to upload, I’d show a more recent one.)
I wish my friend Neil still lived nearby so he could help me fix whatever’s wrong with my camera.
Extraordinary life.
Last night after Chuck’s work was done, we all came home and built a fire.
I set up a small tent, the kids drug out blankets.
We toasted marshmallows, ate smores, and talked for an hour or so.
That’s it.
Nothing especially funny happened.
Nothing that I’d normally write about.
But the majority of my life (all our lives) are made up of the everyday.
The “not so special” moments.
Grass fights. Skinned knees. To do lists. Fussing babies. The quiet.
Breathing it in.
And becoming overwhelmed by the normalcy that makes my life that much more extraordinary than anyone else’s.
Our town.
My 5 year old Reagan told me about a dream she had:
“Mom! Last night I had a dream about God!”
“Really? What did He say?”
“He said he loved me. Alot. He said he loved me a whole lot.”
“He did? What else did He say?”
“Oh, He told me everything! Everything about our whole town. He told it all to me.”
“Really?”
“Yes, and He told me all the people’s names in our whole town and He showed me thier faces.”
“Wow.”
“God told me all their names, Mom. But I can’t remember them all. But He said He loved them too.”
Traffic.
I have gotten some strange looks over my new orange dopies.
I must admit, I love it.
People see them and they have to ask. They certainly are a force.
I guess that would explain the jump in the number of views I’ve been getting on my blog.
Last night George Moss prayed for me while I was wearing my Dopies, and now they are officially God’s anointed and chosen shoes for the summer.
Wildlife.
My girls have discovered a patch of wild strawberries. In a field next to our house. They are quite tiny, and a different shade of red, but very sweet.
They are only about the size of a dime.
But still are quite good. It’s funny how they taste nothing like the strawberries you find in a store.
I wonder why they don’t sell wild strawberries?
Maybe because they can’t tame them?
