That's all she wrote

It's funny I'm having trouble loading pictures tonight--this very last day in May. I kept my word and posted each day in May. We laughed, we cried, but mostly we yawned.
It has been a busy month and truthfully I am glad to welcome June. A whole brand new month just waiting to be filled up with fun.

I shall start a list of simple June things:

swimming

shaved ice

bike riding around the local lake

picnics

staying up late and looking at the stars

seeing "Night at the Museum 2"


What will you do in June?

The Dancing Bear

Recently the love of my life gave out my blog address to a bunch of people. I am flattered he did this and at the same time feel a little vulnerable. Kind of like having food in your teeth as your grinning ear to ear. Or that feeling you get when you are way over on your neighbor's property because you saw a huge turtle and he drives in his driveway and you want to crouch in the long grass and hide but instead you wave way too ambitiously. (I am such a fool.)

Does it make you uncomfortable to see him dance like this? He is a funny/great dancer. He will swoop up anyone within reach and hug you until your spine is adjusted. These pictures are from March.

Hopefully I've embarrassed him enough.

how time flies

Hadley's graduation day has been coming full speed.

I am in awe at how quickly. I blinked and she grew up and graduated.

She has made this family proud, embracing each part of her education with dignity and grace.

Her years of education are as colorful as the box of crayons she first started with. From being

homeschooled to attending international schools she looked at each new experience sometimes

with trepidation but ultimately making the best of it.

She will go away to school and not need me to help her cross the street or tell her she needs to

eat more protein. She will meet people and drink coffee. She'll stay up late and wake up early

and not wear a heavy coat when it's twenty degrees out. This is what growing up is all about,

which would be fine if I could stop shedding tears about it.

Shall we go for a walk?

It's a strange last day of school. Instead of the noisy hooting of my children as they wander down the road full of spectacular summer vacation high it's just little Molly...coming off that big bus all alone on her very first last day of school. No singing or running full speed to get the last cherry popsicle out of the freezer. Just little Molls holding my hand and asking me if it's okay if she works on her summer packet of work today. Remember those days? Chances are if your are female and actually reading this blog you will remember those days. The days when your teacher would give out extra worksheets (we called them dittos) and school paraphernalia. All summer I would bribe my brother to be my student (it will be fun, I promise...we'll go on field trips...) and then scold him for messy penmanship and spelling errors. I wasn't always nice but that's because I learned this from our older sisters (they were really, really, really, really, really mean). Their school wasn't always fun...but real school? I loved it. Did you?

Now on to our walk. Let's pretend the school bus hasn't arrived and since the wee sweet little girl has been deserted by her older siblings for pool parties and such we must gather the wee sweet little boy and walk to get her.

First we must look both ways.

But this is silly as we live on a dead end road and can hear a car approaching five miles away. But we still do it, okay?

Then we look at some flowers in an old paddock next door, because they are pretty. But we don't walk in to far because there are wild snakes about, okay?

Next we hear the bus approaching and run 1/6 of a mile which makes someone winded (I won't point fingers) and also spooks the horses on the corner which makes me sad as I really wanted to take a picture of them. So maybe next time you have to sprint you won't shake the ground so much that they think a herd of elephants is coming????

But here is the bus with the mean old Mrs bus-driver who is the strictest bus driver ever in the history of mankind. The children have to sit with their backs straight and feet flat on the floor, if they don't they get written up. I know this because Sam once turned around to look out the window and had to sit up front for two weeks. All my kids ride the same bus which is nice especially when their brother gets in trouble. 1 brother in trouble + 3 sisters on bus = lots of fun dinner table talk.

This neighbor lives in a pretty house with a field of wildflowers out front. These pictures look so blah in comparison. An older guy lives there all alone. I think he should place an ad in the Maine papers asking for a companion. She will ride the train here and be plain and tall. I will bake them bread and she will bring me wildflowers and then we will be friends.

Thanks for coming with me. I couldn't ask for nicer friends!

How do you welcome summer?

We welcome summer by watching the boys sit in the neat row of barbershop chairs on base. Both boys had enormous mops of hair that I gladly watch fall to the floor within seconds of hearing the buzzer. Well okay there was a little moment of regret when I saw Henry's soft, fluffy hair simply get swept into the garbage. But it's okay, right? I shouldn't have reached in and stuffed it in my purse? I already have hair from his first haircut. I'm sentimental to a fault, this is why we have so much stuff.

This is one of those posts I hope my sweet husband reads from afar. He is able to occasionally read my blog and I know he wishes it was him to bring the boys to the barber. I know they wish it, too. They still come out looking cute and this one is looking more and more like his old man.

We miss you, old man...

Flea Market Baby

Every time I read the blog Posy I am inspired. It can be an innocent post about a floral tea cup and for some reason it will make me smile. It helps that she also loves the Walton's and has a love for matching florals in a mismatching way.

When she recommends a book I know there is a good chance I will like it. Such is the case with Flea Market Baby. I bought a copy (used) from Amazon for seventy cents. It was the best .70 I have ever spent. It is a darling book full of vintage vignettes.

There are some inexpensive used copies here.

My creative side is fizzling out with the busy month of May. Looking through books like this keeps the light on until I can sit and focus on a project. When will that be? If you have any extra spare time please send it my way.

When we lived in the Netherlands we lived near Margraten Cemetery. It's an American WWII cemetery near the border of Belgium. If there is an adjective between sadness and peacefulness I found it there. I went many times walking through the rows slowly reading name after name of those who gave their life for our country. Sometimes I went and was overcome with sadness bowing my head with grief for their loved ones who perhaps had never made the journey over to see their final resting place. Other times I walked the rows feeling a renewed sense of life and the power of the freedom they gave us. The first time I went a cross with "Connecticut" on it caught my eye. His name was Sebastian Lauterbach. Instead of being a name on a stark white cross he became a young man. I imagined him heading over and wondered was he scared? Did he want to go? Did he go to bed at night dreaming of Connecticut? Did he have twinkling blue eyes? I imagine he did. When we moved I felt like I left a dear friend behind. I think of him often but especially on Memorial Day...thank you Sebastian.

Thank you to everyone who serves our great country. And God Bless those who lost their lives doing so.

Food for Thought

sugar snap peas

swiss chard


onions from the neighbor

a slow growing tomato plant

ladybugs helping out

eggs from the girls

board game mojo

As the kids grow, playing games has become more entertaining. Though I admit it is a very fragile thing to play a game with two teenage girls (say the word "what" with five syllables like--WHhhAAaaatttTTTTahhh), a jr high school boy ( insert flatulent noises from the armpit) a six year old (who actually is the most mature person in our family) and a two year old (who rolls the dice by whipping them on the table, under the table and on the kitchen floor--he usually gets banned from the vicinity).

(Am I using parenthesis too much?)

I hope your weekend is good. I hope you find time to sit around and play a game. It's fun (even if you lose).

Friends,

Things are fine. Just fine.

Love,

me

Life is a bowl of cherries.

What does that mean? It must be something good as a bowl of cherries is a divine thing.

You know that part in Little Women when Amy is desperate to buy limes? Not an ipod or cell phone but...limes?

While today is a nice thing to have so many things at our fingertips, one cannot help but envy the appreciation of something as simple as a lime. I have two daughters around the age of Amy. They wouldn't like limes.

But they would like cherries. A big bowl full. To be eaten with barefeet dangling off the porch and pits to be expelled with a talent equal to or better than boys. It's always a good feeling to be better at something than boys.

Do you like that Pyrex pattern above? Check out Leila's blog. She is actually giving away a piece with the same pattern. Can you imagine that?! I know, I know but she is nice and we should all learn from this.

No title just deep exhaling with somewhat oniony breath

I'm getting kind of tired of my blog. Is it this blogging everyday challenge? It seems childish and pathetic. Wah wah wah are you tired of my stale attempt at humor and woes of missing him? Maybe it is like running a marathon. Running, running as each mile ticks away until somewhere in the middle you think you're crazy and want to stop and visualize yourself sitting poolside with an enormous lemonade. But then you tell yourself to stick with it and persevere... repeating to yourself you can do it and even though you are running kind of skippy-sideways and have a really strained look on your face you feel self worth that levels out all the uncertainties in your life.

Wow. Maybe I should run a marathon. Or even a 5k. Or maybe even a 3k. Or maybe I could just go for a walk.

I have 14 minutes until half of my kids burst through the door. Actually it's less kids than that because half of my kids would be two and a half kids and that wouldn't be good.

I spent 20 minutes picking fabrics to make a few more summer things...we are leaving for Connecticut next month and Molly must look darling. This is to represent our family at picnics and such...her outfits will cancel out what the rest of us are wearing. (cut offs and converse and a nice slab of zinc on the nose)

My favorite fabrics of the week:

family

Today was a happy day. I'm glad to have my mom here. My face keeps flexing muscles involuntarily. I think it's called smiling.

Guess what?

My mother is coming tomorrow.

She is sweet and skinny and loves nature-- like birds and flowers and such. When I say she is skinny I mean like she has the skinniest legs you have ever seen but also she has pointy ta-tas. A rare combo if I should say.

This is a picture of her and my sister before I was born. She was a stay at home mom who sewed clothes for herself and her children. She wore dresses and skirts each day. By the time I was born the 70's had taken their grip and she traded in all her dresses for a pottery wheel she would set up in the kitchen. We moved to Hawaii and went to the beach everyday. She would wear a brown bikini with white palm leaves on it. When we moved from there her life really changed. I didn't know this at the time as I was still pretty young. We moved back "home" to Connecticut and soon she was working full time. As soon as she got home she would unhook her bra and put on a big T-shirt and my brother and I would yell at her to put pants on. Is this too much information? But this is my mother. And she is coming here tomorrow.

One Month

He's been away for a month now. A whole month. I have lots of thoughts about this. I'm glad the first month is done. I miss him every minute. I worry about him every minute.

I'm grateful for many things...
He is doing fine.
We can email everyday.
We can talk on the phone.
I can mail him stuff and he gets it in a week.


I often think of WWII and how difficult it must have been. Letters received were old, no phone calls...I think all that fear of the unknown would swallow me up.

Tasha Book Talk

Today I piled the children in the car and headed to Dallas. The drive is too long.

We collectively needed a few things that we couldn't find here in our little cowboy town. It was raining this morning, I argued with the teenagers and humphed all the way there. After looking like the hillbillies gone to the big city for a couple hours we relaxed and began to remember that we did indeed like each other. By the time we came home the sun was shining, the cows were grazing and we were singing in the car.

I found a Tasha Tudor book at the used book store. This means I will fall asleep tonight with visions of my New England in my mind combined with the soothing words of Tasha explaining how and why she lived her life in such a way. This comforts me and I find it no coincidence that I found this book today- a day which I silently declared for the thousandth time how I can't stand malls.

books

Lavender Dreams recently asked me what I was reading, she is dear and sweet and thought I would answer her in the best way I know how--blogging about it!

This is a book review for a series of books that I have read over the last few years. I have often resorted to reading one when my head is full of stress and just want something a little relaxing and lullfull (made up word). The series is called The Elm Creek Quilt Series. I found the first one at a yard sale and have enjoyed many more since then.

I won't go as far as to say these are the best books ever but they are good stories and well written. I am not a quilter but appreciate the art of quilting. The last one I read " The Sugar Camp Quilt" is my favorite thus far. It is historically based during the days of the underground railroad.

The author of these books is Jennifer Chiaverini. You can buy them here.

Henry likes cake.

Hooray for Six

Happy Birthday to the sweetest sweetie pie in the whole entire world.

Can you believe she is six? Even though you probably don't know her just shake your head in disbelief. It's crazy, right?

Molly has a story. I won't write a book about it as you just told me you don't even know her. (how rude!)

I will tell you I wanted Molly really, really, really, really, bad and would have traveled the world to have her. Which is precisely what happened. I will sum it up in short sentences.

We lived overseas.

A war started.

I was mongo pregnant.

The kids and I were evacuated out of the country.

In the middle of the night.

It was chaotic.

We went to Connecticut.

I was in labor for two days.

Which was good.

Because Ken arrived.

In time to welcome his beautiful baby.

Molly.

See? It has a happy ending.

And you thought I was going to talk about placenta and water breaking and gross stuff like that.

Yeah...I know these pictures are grainy and distorted...how rude of you to point that out!