The way to love someone
is to lightly run your finger over that person's soul
until you find a crack,
and then gently pour your love into that crack.
~Keith Miller

Tuesday, November 27, 2018


It's been so long since I've taken time to write to myself here that I don't know what I've written down from what I've not!

The kitchen "touch up" is done.  As we prepare this house for the market (as early as next summer, but I'm thinking it will take another year after that - the casita is still a tool shed), I probably won't do another thing to this room after I change out the faucet. Would love to move the microwave out replacing it with a hood ... which would require buying a little microwave for under the counter top (where there is electrical already available) but, an over the oven hood upgrade would demand the additional work and expense of cabinet removal, wall repair/prep for tile ... it goes on and on each time one "tweaks" an already made choice! It's a cute little kitchen that functions beautifully for one cook at a time. My husband doesn't cook, except to add sardines to his pizza. When I'm not cooking, he is a sandwich man. I only eat serious bread.

I had the kitchen sparkling clean and fully loaded for the coming holiday. I love Thanksgiving.

Preparing things for the kids was fun. I fussed over getting the bedrooms as right as I could. It was fun to pull a couple of heavy quilts out which had been on my girl's beds when they shared a room. I'm realizing that I'm sentimental about those things which remind me of years long past ... and well spent. I enjoyed raising kids. Sure don't miss their meltdowns and I wish I could be as intentional at it as I'm able to be about endeavors now, but I am so very proud of each one of them. They're really cool adults.

While we were still at the table, he said, "That turkey is doing its thing." and I looked at him. First born. He is, well ... perfect. And he looked at me (and I clearly remember the first time that happened) and he said, "tryptophan" and I said, "melatonin" and he raised his eyebrows and smiled precisely as my dad did. See, sometimes tears burn behind my eyes and I look away. I wonder if that will happen more as I get older.  This stillness that sits with me now causes me to remember things often, and those memories overlay what is in the moment.  Probably I'm unable to describe it clearly. My life is intentionally uncluttered. That made room for more. I like that he can express himself perfectly while inadvertently prompting sweet memories of my dad. Genes are cool. I realize now that that expression is "bemused amusement with a dash of annoyed". Makes me smile to see it again. My son is just about ten years younger than Daddy was when he died.
Here in Texas, Dia de Muerte is a thing. I read up on it this year and it made me wish that my beliefs had a day to remember and celebrate my gone people.

I'm making it sound like thinking about all that was a big part of this time with my family - it wasn't at all. But it is fun to see family traits reappearing in later generations.


That is a fake smile. I had my camera out trying to figure out the portrait setting. Sometimes it makes the background blurry, which I like, and sometimes it does not. Certainly user error, but I can't be bothered to "google it". I seem to like to figure things out the hard way. 
She asked for a day up in Waco with just her dad and I and so we did that. She made a nail and charmed the man tending the greenhouse who shared fresh lettuce with us, three beautiful crunchy heads with their roots wrapped neatly at their bases, That was a week ago and it's still the best lettuce my refrigerator has seen. Thankful as the grocery store shelves are empty of lettuce now due to a problem with all the Romaine.  It was a good day. A really good day.
Blacksmith shop at Homestead Heritage Craft Village. Very cool.

These little chicks were making
 us laugh
 while my husband picked out seeds
 for our tomato garden.
More later -

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