News Flash

Out of an apple, I took a bite;
Out of my mouth, my tooth took flight.

Growing up

Last night, following supper, I retreated into the bathroom to watch the two youngest boys in the bathtub. Dave had gone outside to clean up the backyard before some late winter rain; and I, left spouseless, hadn't felt able to tackle the messy dining room and mountain of dishes. The twins were left with no specific instructions. About 10 minutes into bathtime, the twinlets arrived at the door and breathlessly told me that I just had to see the kitchen and dining room.
"In a bit," I responded.
They ran back out and then told me to wait even longer as they had more work to do. Hmmm, I wondered, what were they up to?
When they finally ushered me out of the bathroom and into the dining room, I was greeted by a cleared table, a swept floor and a full dishwasher. Do I need to mention that two almost-six-year-old faces were also beaming with pride and satisfaction? I was gushing in my praise as their efforts had actually made a tremendous difference (in the kitchen as well as in my heart). Oh, and yes, the extra work that they had mentioned was in their bedrooms which I later found in perfect order. Apparently their efforts are part of their new Lenten resolve.
Jacob, who easily sails to the heights of joyous satisfaction, told me that he was going to tell everyone at school what he had done. I, recognising a teachable moment, said, "But, Jacob, you should always keep your good deeds to yourself so that your Father who sees in secret will reward you." (Throw in a little Scripture - always a good idea.) He thought about this and responded, "OK, I'll just tell my principal." Go straight to the top, little man...

Photos as inspiration

For any of you who were beginning to worry about the safety of our skaters' noggins, don't worry, we finally got them hockey helmets. Jacob, in typical Jacob fashion, insisted on wearing his new helmet in the van. Perhaps this was a statement on his parent's driving, perhaps not. We also have photos of him wearing goggles to his swimming lessons. (He also wore the same goggles to a wedding but de-goggled before entering the church.) Note that his leg is crossed; it always is - all he needs is a pipe and a beard to stroke. Hannah was quite upset at the absence of pink on her helmet. She sat dismally on the ice and decided to play on the swings instead.

This is Benjamin playing in the fort made by the primary students at Dave's school. He later broke it apart all over the ice rink. I don't know how the students reacted on Monday. Dave tried sending him to the principal's office but the door was locked.

I imagine that this is Ben thinking about breaking apart the fort.

And this is where the actual idea to break apart the fort first came to mind.

This looks like one of those "Look at me, I'm pregnant" shots. It's not. It's just the coat. And now that I actually see what I wear in the winter, I realise that I am always ready for a funeral. Note to self: insert more colour.

The brothers who are starting to become good friends.

Yes, they are playing with a pink and purple house. It has a toilet that flushes and a baby crib that cries when pushed.

Lots of character.

Uninspired

I apologise to any readers out there who have noticed that my blogging rate has slowed to a trickle as of late. Life has been exceptionally busy with a run of supply days, a multitude of doctor appointments requiring significant travel and a change in the church calendar: yes, I always find the beginning of Lent very busy. On top of all this, the house is in pieces around me, Ben is sucking a toothpaste tube on the couch (fluoride-free), Joe is wiping his nose on various pieces of furniture (he already tore apart the Kleenex box as an age-appropriate activity) and, mercifully, H and J are at school where they are scheduled for a sleigh ride at noon. I'm in one of those "where-do-I-begin-to-clean" moods and, thus, I have chosen to blog. So, Happy Lent to one and all.
I actually love this season to pieces as it always comes at the time of year when I feel that things need to be put into proper order; Lent provides an excellent opportunity to set things right. I won't bore you with my Lenten lists but I will tell you that Jacob has decided to give up school for the next 40 days; we'll see how far he gets with that. Apparently, his resolve to sacrifice his education as penance was easily broken as I can't find him anywhere in the house and the calendar shows me that the SKs go to school on Thursdays. Hannah decided to give up: TV, junk food, ice cream and the list goes on. I doubt she will remember any of these decisions when she asks for dessert tonight after supper. And, I almost forgot, Jacob has also decided to give up saying, "Why do I have to do everything?". This is his phrase of choice when asked to do anything and I pray that this habit might be broken before Easter. We'll see. Ben and Joe are pretty much out of the Lenten loop and I doubt that giving up the bottle will happen anytime soon. Nevertheless, I better go as Ben should probably sacrifice the aforementioned tube of toothpaste. Wish me luck.

Parish Breakfasts

Not much to say today. Perhaps this is due to the near comatose state in which I find myself after one of those high-fructose, refined-flour parish breakfasts: pancakes, sausage, ham, beans, shattered juice glasses and screaming, sticky children. What were they fundraising for again ... mental health? However, I feel that I owe my readers (!) a post; so, here are some pictures. I almost posted another video but, unfortunately, I held the camera sideways forgetting that videos can't be flipped upright. If I had loaded the video, you would have had to tip your monitor on its side and I just don't think that I should ask you to go to such lengths.

Dave just read this blog and told me that it only gets a Level 2! For all of you non-Ontario teachers, that's a 60%.

Oh, one more thing: for all of you friends on Facebook - I'm cutting the cord, I'm getting off, my updates are over - I really don't like that vague feeling of being back in highschool and (in the words of my friend, Theresa) Facebook is a drug that I just don't need.

More icy videos

Some more videos for your enjoyment. This blog has become my primary mode of communicating pictures and videos to my children's East Coast grandparents. I hope that nobody else minds the skating theme.

The lake is Golden Lake located 2 minutes from Dave's parents' farm. We accessed the water along a cottage road that is almost abandoned in the Winter. Hannah and Jacob have developed quite different skating styles that closely mimic their individual approaches to life. Jacob pummels full-force onto the ice and inevitably falls; while Hannah carefully pushes from side to side while expounding upon the superiority of all things girlish. You can imagine who ends up with the most bruises. If my memory serves me, the first video also contains footage of Benjo's ice-fun in the arms of his Daddy. It struck me as I watched Dave skating, first with Ben and then with Joe, that it must be a wonderful feeling to be a child in the arms of his father while he skilfully glides along the ice. A child in my arms would have been slightly more precarious.

In the second video, Dave and the twins skated home to the farm; Ben and Joe had had enough of not being allowed to strap blades onto their boots and they went home in car seats. Jacob arrived breathless at the farmhouse claiming that he had raced all the way home and taken the victory of first-through-the-door. He then proceeded to devour anything edible within arm's reach. Hannah soon entered glowing with her day's exertion and also claiming a similar victory despite having entered the house in second place. She then collapsed on the couch. All in all, it was a gorgeous day: the sort of day where Spring is in the air and close enough that somehow Winter becomes quite tolerable.

p.s. Sorry about the turbulence in the second video. Also, I hadn't realised how ominous that huge patch of sun looks - as if the twins are skating into oblivion.

Hannah's Musings

Hannah always has interesting things to say when we go on walks. I am quite thankful for this as endless games of eye-spy in a Canadian winter just don't cut it: "I spy with my little eye something that is white, brown or grey." So, here is today's offerings from my little girl.
1. While watching Jacob slide along a patch of ice: Giggle, giggle, "Here's Jacob, Mom. He's funny."
"You like your brother; don't you, Hannah?"
"Yup."
"Why?"
"He's silly."
"What else do you like about him?" (Hoping for some depth.)
"I don't know yet." (Judgement reserved until further notice.)
2. "Hannah, do you remember being in my tummy with Jacob?"
"Nope. But I sure am glad that I'm outta there. Jacob was crowdin' me."

1918?

It is a very sad state of affairs when the stomach flu finally catches up with both mommy and daddy at the exact same time. It is even sadder when said flu hits them the morning after their kids spend the night relieving themselves of the last vestiges of the same bug. If I could put the whole house, people included, in the washing machine on hot/heavy duty/extra-rinse cycle, I would; maybe even twice.
Yesterday, as Dave and I spent Valentine's Day lying in bed with our stomachs churning and brows burning, I wondered if the end just might be in sight. Visions of doctors with Gravol-filled syringes danced in my head; could I safely drive myself to the hospital? Moreover, did I have any energy to get dressed in order not to be incarcerated when I arrived? We both stayed put; somehow the kids made it through the day. Amazing how four kids under 6 can make it quite successfully through a day parent-less. Only necessary diapers were changed; bottles were filled and re-filled by the twins who were thrust into a quasi-parental role; two children made it out of pajamas: Joseph, because leaving a baby covered in vomit is really not acceptable, and Hannah, because her over-riding sense of fashion always prevails. And, sadly, it is the TV who wins the parenting award this Valentine's Day.
Apparently it was "Caring and Sharing Day" on Treehouse. Hannah finally saw Strawberry Shortcake and Jacob actually hugged the TV this morning (I am not joking). In the midst of it all, the doorbell rang and H and J ran to answer it. They came rushing to the bedroom with a bag of oranges in hand: "Mommy, Mommy. Someone gave us a bag of oranges but they ran away really fast into their van." Thank you, mystery-orange-giver.
I stayed up the latest last night waiting for my stomach to abate so that I could begin to conquer my headache with some Tylenol. As I lay on the couch, I watched Mother Angelica and her nuns pray the Rosary on EWTN. Somehow this was the only TV-viewing that I could handle. I did discover that nuns' faces are extremely interesting to watch: women completely denuded of makeup and hair. It was interesting to imagine what they looked like before donning the habit. We all eventually made it to bed and the baby slept in extra long this morning. I think that he didn't want to face another day without his parents.
Actually, I am amazed at how well Joseph did yesterday. On a normal day, he is more than assertive in his demands to be lifted up, fed, watered and bedded. However, he seemed to have an understanding that only the most basic of needs could be met yesterday. He spent most of the day walking from our room to check on his parents and then back to the living room to see his sibs. Every once in a while he would come in on his ride-on-toy beeping his horn and shovelling the carpet. At other times he sat on my back as I lay in semi-consciousness.
Anyway, the wash is on, the floor is swept, handles have been wiped with disinfectant and we are on the road to recovery. (Didn't I say that three weeks ago?) This has been the worst stomach flu that I have ever encountered and you should all be very thankful that your primary mode of communication with me requires no bodily contact. Pray for us...
(And, yes, it goes without saying that the baby shower that was planned for our house yesterday afternoon was moved to another home. Despite the change of plans, Hannah kept asking, "When is everybody coming over?" Never, Hannah, never.)

Videos - Finally!

Finally, I have managed to load videos. I won`t tell you how long it took. I think that they are in the wrong order but I hope you enjoy. I know that my parents will.

The Week in Pictures

We took the kids skating on Sunday at the outdoor rink at Dave's school. This was their first time skating; yes, we are a little behind the times but they were up and skating within minutes. The skating trip was precipitated by a letter home from school detailing a school excursion to the skating arena. Ack! We better teach them to skate. The funny thing is that they should be skating with their school today but they are both home sick. At least the letter provided Dave and I with the necessary impetus to strap on the blades.

Jacob chose to wear his hockey jersey and showed his usual lack of fear. By the end of an hour he was sliding down the snowbank, landing upright and skating away.

Dave is a pro. I am not, thus, the shutter finger. We actually brought a pair of figure skates for me but Dave grabbed the wrong ones. Not only were they far too small, they had also been colonised by mice! Another father at the rink went home and brought me his old hockey skates. It's true, they are far easier than figure skates. I had a great time and this kind father wouldn't take the skates back. I negotiated a new grading scheme for his daughter in exchange for the skates...

Hannah Grace looking very tall.

Jacob attempting a picture smile and looking very Canadian.

Hannah sitting in a position that I have never managed to achieve. Helen, does this remind you of anyone? Angie Brenton.

Joseph wearing big, stripey socks instead of his boots into which I find it absolutely impossible to force his arches.

My best shot of some onlookers. Pardon the hunting pun.

Making Valentines that I had to deliver this morning as the twins are sick at home.

Almost completed: they just need names.

Our southpaw.
Our northpaw (?)
The only way to get better.
My response to, "Mommy, I am so hot and just need something to get cold."
And, just because I love what they come up with. (Also, I love order.) Somehow, Arctic Fox looks extremely noble.

For all nursing mothers

This quote is for all mothers who have ever nursed a baby, whether that baby was weaned 20 years ago or just started to latch on a few days ago.

"Jesus said he did not come to earth to judge it. He came with mercy, and did you know that the Hebrew word for mercy actually means the quality of love felt by a mother nursing her child?" (Manna Gathering - Thanks T)

Today

Today is one of those quiet, peaceful days. I love these days and much of my life is composed of them. Yes, there are four little ones running around throughout the day but the life of a stay-at-home mom (especially one who appears to be an extrovert but is really an introvert at heart) still borders on that of a hermit. I turned on the light in the bathroom today and smiled when I saw my reflection. The smile wasn't because I thought I looked great, but because I am often the only adult face I see from 8am-5pm and I thought that I deserved a greeting. (Hopefully this is not bordering on psychosis!) There are moments when this is lamentable but they have become increasingly rare as I grow as a mother. I often try to encourage first-time moms who are struggling with the new pace of life at home to just stick with it and not run away from what is happening inside of them because it is so valuable for their own sake.
I've made peace with my hermitage and cherish the rhythm of my days. The sky is grey; outside it is plus 9 degrees (!!!); the only sounds I can hear are running water in the downspout, the ticking of the woodstove and the soft whispers of a child playing by himself. I imagine that chaos will soon break out. In the meantime, youngest baby is asleep in his crib after throwing up an entire bottle; little girl is dozing on a mattress in her parents' bedroom with her hair tied up in preparation for the release of her stomach's contents; bright eyes (Ben) is lying in a chair quietly watching me as he wakes up from his nap and plays with the blocks clutched in his hands; and poor Jacob is battling a fever on the couch. The second stage of the stomach flu that I thought had gone has reared its head. This is officially a rotten, virulent, horrible bug. The blogosphere is alive with it and I have heard tales of it as far away as Texas. However, it is still a quiet day.
There is something that I really love about nursing my sick children: washing the soiled sheets and towels; administering the cold cloths and Tylenol; even holding the bucket as they fight through the pain. (I think a nurse on the battle field must feel a similar sense of accomplishment.) It is during these times that, strangely enough, I realise how much I love being a mother and how much stronger I have become through the demands of these four little ones. I love these children to pieces and can't imagine life without them.
I supply taught in a Junior Kindergarten class on Monday. This is a new thing for me - around 2 days/month. So many people say, "Good, you're finally using your degree." or, "It must be nice to get out." or, "Hoping to get back into the system?". True. I reply, "Actually, the money really helps." But, oh how I miss those four little faces and am so infinitely grateful that money is abundant enough to let me be at home with them the other 29 days of the month. I don't feel wasted as a mother: biding my time until I can go back to work. I actually feel a tremendous amount of accomplishment when I review my day. My degree is at work as I form little minds but, moreover, my faith is at work and growing as I attempt to form little hearts and souls, my own included. One little JK stopped me in the middle of gym to say, "Teacher, I really miss my mom but I can handle it." I think I understand.

Hannah's Musings

I've noticed that Hannah has a habit of referencing most things to God. Many times her remarks are quite profound and often very amusing. For example, Jacob has a habit of eating snow and licking ice. (We are working on this.) While out for a walk today I caught Jacob consuming some of the white stuff. In frustration, I said, "Why do you have to do this, Jacob?" Hannah replied, "'Cause that's the way God made him: special." I hope she still feels this way when they are teenagers.

The Joseph Series

And these pictures are up because both subjects are very cute.

The Dave Series

This is Dave. This is Dave sleeping at 2pm in the afternoon. Previous to this picture we were having a conversation. He has an amazing ability to sleep anywhere at anytime. I think that he has had two sleepless nights in 32 years: the night before we were engaged and the night following the accidental smashing of the side mirror on his Dad's brand new truck. This is not an ability that I possess. The only time that I come close to vying for the gold in the sleep Olympics is during the first trimester of pregnancy for a short (and sweet) period of 6-7 weeks. Unfortunately, it is also accompanied by an inability to keep down food along with an insatiable appetite for Premium Plus crackers. Quick math: I have experienced, at most, 21 weeks of superior sleeping ability. In fact, I often experience sleep envy as I witness his soporific feats. His roommate in seminary once told me that he used to count the seconds that it took for Dave's breathing to change to the even in-and-out that indicates sleep. He never reached 60. His parents and sister have a similar grasp of command sleeping. I clearly remember during our engagement being surrounded by sleeping members of Dave's family in Lazy Boys. They seemed to be trading snores. I felt very isolated as I looked from Lazy Boy to Lazy Boy. However, I choose to remain optimistic and pray that my children have received this gene in ample measure: may their sleeping cup be pressed down and running over. Their father's sure is.

Bushel Baskets

My sister was telling me that her step-daughters, Clara and Emeline, had to memorise a Scripture verse at Sunday School. The verse was the one about being the salt of the earth, the light of the world and not putting your light under a bushel. Any of you who attended World Youth Day 2002 will know this verse well. Since the beginning of his papacy, Pope Benedict XVI has continually encouraged Christians to engage the culture. So, I absolutely love and am so encouraged when I find Christian, particularly Catholic, media which is doing just that ... and doing it well with no elements of cheese. I found out about a fabulous film company run out of NY and in affiliation with Fr. Benedict Groeschel: Grassroots Films. I've included this trailer of a film that I haven't seen yet but the trailer gives me chills and brings tears to my eyes. Anyone who has ever walked in a Eucharistic procession or a March for Life knows how energising it can be to be part of such truth. I remember walking in the March for Life with all 4 kids in tow last year. I told people who wondered why 5 month old Joseph was along that he felt very strongly about the issue having only been out of the womb for half a year! (In the words of George Jonas, "We're all ex-fetuses." - I digress.) Hannah insisted on carrying a sign raised on high for the full kilometre and, amazingly, all the flags on all the federal buildings were at half mast that day.

Enjoy and check out the website: http://www.grassrootsfilms.com/

Singleton Sayings

I just had to post this. I was scrolling through the pictures on the blog in order to show Benjamin the various shots from my run. I actually wanted to see if he would recognise any pictures of his new town. He only stopped our browsing at one photo: that of the church of St. Lawrence O'Toole. His comment? "Dat's Jesus, Mommy. Dat's Jesus." Something's working.

Mommy Tricks

A few people have asked me how I have time to blog. Lest you think that I play stimulating games with my children while baking them nutritious, organic treats: think again. I am considering an intravenous hook-up. Benjamin is really into hydration.

He's also extremely fond of his sister.

I have an exceptional helper: I imagine that her children will be adequately stimulated and produce daily craft projects.

Addendum

Because I missed two pictures that were the most beautiful.

Valleyisms

I remember when we first moved to Halifax in 1986 that we were very struck by the various uses of language that were particular to the region. Prior to our eastern move, I had never heard that supper was "some good" or that a test was "right hard". After a while, these colloquialisms ceased to grate on my ears and became standard fare in daily conversation. However, I could never use them as I always felt like people would know that I was somehow "faking it". I felt the same whenever I had to speak Spanish (learned in university) with a native speaker. I would attempt a dialogue while constantly wondering at what point my interlocutor might just crack up in laughter and pat me on the head. Dave still encourages my Spanish whenever we meet anyone remotely Latin and I mumble, "No hablo mucho." Strangely enough, the two people who insist on me speaking Spanish with them both reside here in the depths of the Valley. The first is a wonderful deacon whose son-in-law (a Spaniard) and daughter live in Spain. The problem is that the dear deacon's language skills are constantly improving while mine are, well, "No hablo mucho." The other Spanish speaker is a local and colourful musician (he wears many other hats but I will stick with musician) who found himself in the back hills as a draft-dodger in the late '60s. He never fails to remember that Dave's wife speaks Spanish and that he, once having lived in Peru, enjoys speaking it with her. All of this is actually a lead up to the fact that I have once again found myself in a land that, in many ways, speaks a different language. I haven't attempted to speak this language but I have found myself slipping into the new dialect because, well, I kind of like it. Here are a few examples of Valleyisms:

1. My mother-in-law is from Alumette Island (an Irish enclave on the Quebec side of the Ottawa River). She has a very strong accent and when I first spent a summer with my future in-laws I experienced a few misunderstandings. One of those was when she spoke about carrots (which were a significant part of our conversation due to the flourishing garden). Her pronunciation of carrots always sounded like cards to me and I spent many suppers (no joke) confused as to why card games were associated with the vegetable garden. A neighbour later told us that he once asked for a carrot muffin at MacDonald's only to be met by a blank stare. His accent caused so much confusion that the MacD's staffer actually had to retrieve a picture menu so that he could point to the appropriate icon!
2. Another Valley phenomenon is that of working out. Those who choose to farm for a living often have to resort to holding another job outside of the farm to make ends meet. This is called working out. Of course, I didn't know this at first and thought that there were a lot of farmers who felt strongly about going to the gym.
3. One use of the language that I just love is the way in which people refer to their children. Jacob and Hannah are not my boy and girl: they are my lad and little lady. I confess that this phrase has slipped out of my mouth quite naturally lately. It accords a certain dignity to my children that I just really like.
4. Another Valleyism that I have come to love is that no one has friends around here: they have chums. This lends itself to the following phrases: They chum around together. Who does he chum with? They're chumming around together more these days. How are you, chum? In fact, one of Dave's elementary schoolmates is still known as Chummy instead of Chris.
5. The fifth and final (for now) Valleyism that I have come to love is the place names and last names around here. For example, Stamplecoskie is a genuine last name and I LOVE it. I told Dave the other day that if I had my choice I would be called Elena Stamplecoskie and live on Smaglinski-Stoppa Parkway. Also, I could listen to my kids pronounce Killaloe (Kill-a-loo) a million times over.
The language is rich and I imagine that this is where my kids will always say they came from. Perhaps by the time they head out to make their way in the world I will, without a second thought, also speak the language.

Can you see the difference?

A prize is waiting for the reader who can tell me the difference between the two pictures of Sr. Ilaria. (All members of the Fransiscans of Halifax are exempt from this contests as are those who attended her solemn vows on October 4th.) More prizes for whoemever can tell me the reason for the change. This is not a shameful ploy to elicit more comments...

Feast Day

Today is a day of much significance. To one of my readers, it is the 7th anniversary of her marriage - congratulations. February 2nd also marks one year since the tragic loss of Janine Lieu and Paul Sanders, both students at Our Lady Seat of Wisdom Academy - my prayers are with their families and for their souls. This second day of the second month is also a special day in the life of the Church. It is both the Feast of the Presentation and the World Day for Consecrated Life. I suppose that the second really grows out of the first. It is the second about which I feel the need to write.
It is rare indeed to see anyone in the consecrated life these days. I can remember almost every instance in which I have seen a nun wearing a veil, let alone a full habit. As my Dad used to say to me, "How could you possibly know if you wanted to be a nun, Nena? You've never seen one." Despite the rare sightings, my heart has jumped with joy (and, at one time in my life, fear) when I have glimpsed the sister in her religious garb. They remind me that God is very real and desperate to be involved in our lives - they are icons of Christ. So, it is with pride and joy that I witness my younger sister wearing the habit of the Fransciscans of Halifax. I confess that it is strange to go for a walk with a fully-habited nun and a double stroller. So odd that our family doctor almost caused a car accident on Quinpool Rd. when she saw the Culshaw girls out for a walk.
I also find that Martha's (Sr. Ilaria's) vocation is a constant source of fascination to those who find out about it: "What? You have a sister who's a NUN??? How old is she?" I often wonder if I answered 63 instead of 23 if people would be any less surprised. The inevitable next question is one of the following:
1. Does she wear a habit?
2. How did your parents take it?
3. Has she always wanted to do this?
4. Is she alright?
5. There are still nuns?
6. What use do they serve?
I provide the requisite answers and try to reassure people that yes, she is happy, of course there are struggles and on and on. I try my best but, in reality, I don't understand what it is to be called to the religious life in the same way that she doesn't know what it is to be called to marriage and family life. We have a good idea of the two lives and can glean more from reading and discussion but the call remains her own and one of great intimacy.
The call of the religious is anathema to what our world stands for and therein lies some of its beauty. The vocation of the "consecrated virgin" (yes, the term still exists and Jacob uses it liberally!) is partly here to remind us what life is really about. They stand as visible reminders of our final destination: eternal life with God. (They're not just a source of free labour in hospitals and schools.)
I think that I am writing this because I can never say this in conversation with people. Eyes usually glaze over, or kids interrupt, or circumstances just don't allow for justification of the consecrated life... But, there she is - my sister wearing a veil and a habit in which she says she feels more comfortable than jeans and a t-shirt. Her vocation (and that of Sr. Teresa) inspire me and intrigue my little Hannah who can't believe that there could possibly be a life where she could always wear a dress, have multiple sisters and not worry about disruptive male siblings. So, on this 2nd of February I thank God that He is still calling and that in the words of Blessed Mother Teresa, "And in the silence of her heart, she hears."
Logistical note: I tried my best to upload this video to the blog but the best I could do is to provide you with a link to a fabulous short video on the cloistered life, far more eloquent than I.
http://www.conversiondiary.com/ (click on "Go take five minutes..." in no.1 of 7 Quick Takes Friday)

Miscellaneous

This is how I cook supper. Hannah and Jacob are lingering on the periphery of this photo. If I got inside of a bucket in the smallest closet in my house, the kids would inevitably attempt to join me. This is to prove that I am still running even in the deep, dark winter. In fact, this day was one of those nostrils-stick-together-when-you-breathe sort of days. My neck warmer is actually black; the white is my frozen exhaust. Also, note the white hair - not age, just cold. Just so you don't think I 'm completely off my rocker, it's actually not too hard to run in the cold and you burn more calories...

I'm not sure what the neighbours think. I've noticed the couple across the road standing at their window watching as I head out.

I promised my sister over at http://whatireallymeanttosay.wordpress.com/ that I would follow her tag and write a story about what I really remember about my wedding day. That post will be coming soon but here is something quick and easy while I find the time to write something a little longer. Also, try as I may, I cannot manage to add Rebecca's blog to my reading list but it's worth the read. She has a far better grasp of semi-colons than I do.