Christmas

Christmas time was not very dramatic at our house when I was growing up. My mom and dad were very poor, for sure when I was a preschooler. But I remember distinctly one gift mom made Bren and I. They were beautiful homemade dolls with yarn hair, black for Bren and brown for me. Those dolls had almond shaped eyes painted perfectly on their face and dimples in their cheeks. Plus, they each came with two gingham dresses, a slip, and pantaloons. My mom made us loads of peppernuts at Christmas. We helped roll out the logs to just the right size and then she froze them. Then we’d all cut peppernuts and bake many a panful and freeze the tiny little cookies in an ice-cream pail until Christmas. Of course, mom let us snitch a few. My mom and dad were never big on giving gifts at Christmas but we always read the bible story out of the Egermeier’s bible story book and everyone sang Christmas carols. My mom sang like a bird, all the Christian Hymnal Christmas songs plus all the songs she heard in town, because she could hear a song once and sing it.

Christmas family gatherings were the very best as a child and even a teenager. We would drive a few hours when I was young to get to Grandpa and Grandma Isaac where I had oodles of boy cousins, the baking was decadent and Grandma’s jar of hard candies sat free and open to everyone. I remember gift exchanges and men playing crokinole and lots of loud boys in the basement. We also went to my Grandpa and Grandma Eidse for gatherings with oodles of girl cousins. We adored our ‘Grandma Eidse’ sleepovers where we would eat chips late into the night and look through Aunt Esther’s Stuff and play games of Pit and Life and Blitz and all manner of dress-up. We always brought special songs and poems and verses at both family gatherings and everyone loved it except us kids.

Christmas in my teenage and youth years was the best; those pretty new dresses, school party days, candies and gifts and singing. Singing has always been special to me, but when I got converted I would cry (I still do) over the beautiful messages of hope and cheer and Jesus birth. Bringing Christmas programs out when I was in youth was the highlight of all time. We took a full Saturday every year and all the youth got on a bus and drove to High Prairie and McClennan and brought the program to four different old folks’ homes. We also got to go out for pizza when we were done. We brought our program to two or three homes in Grande Prairie and two places in Valleyview, our Home in Crooked Creek and finally to church on the 25^th where half of the group was neighbours. We were such a big youth group, between 40 to 60 youth, that the program always went well and it didn’t really matter if one or two people were missing.

After we got married, I realized that Christmas time doesn’t always mean huge drifts of snow and layers of white on evergreen trees. I realized that some places didn’t go Christmas Eve carolling and that the strong winds of Saskatchewan were actually colder than the northern stillness of Alberta. For the first time in my life Christmas became wistful. Nostalgic. I cried with lonesomeness. I missed my cousins. I missed my people. But I got to know new people. I got to celebrate Christmas on the second Sunday in December by new friends in a little church where the youth group was tiny and everyone was gone on Christmas Day.  I got to travel to new places over Christmas time and meet large groups of people who I knew nothing about.

Our family’s little traditions are mirrored after both our parental homes. We like to have a special meal together and read the bible story about baby Jesus as a family. We sometimes exchange gifts but not always. We get together with Pat’s family and my family but rarely with the larger Grandpa/Grandma families. We listen to the school Christmas programs and dress our boys in new button-front shirts for the occasion. We have candy bags drifting around the house, peanuts in the garbage and stacks of peppernuts in the freezer. We often travel at Christmas, with loads of winter gear piled up the back window, hockey sticks and skates in tow and coolers of food arranged under pillows and backpacks. We sing Christmas carols; we hug our Grandpas and Grandmas and we wait.

And in the stillness here and there we meet Jesus. Love. Good will. Joy. Peace.

In Which Mrs. Brown is Resurrected In Obscurity

It has been some years since Mrs. Brown has made an appearance here. Fear not. It is not that Mrs. Brown has not been thriving, only that she has been living in obscurity.

A lot has come and gone since Mrs. Brown's last appearance. The little Brown boys have grown into strapping young men, taller than their mother. Baby Brown is no longer a baby, in fact, a lively grade one boy. Mrs. Brown herself has aged and sagged and blossomed into a ripe age of forty. Mr. Brown is the only one who appears much the same as the bygone years with only a sprinkling of grey in his hair and beard.

Mrs. Brown has many days worthy of 'Mrs. Brown Stories'. The only problem is a chance to record them. Like most forty-year-old mothers, Mrs. Brown has found that her once busy, lively life has morphed into a rendition of everything turned up to the speed of time and a half. The days fly by. What she once thought was busy now appears in memory as only a snail-paced leisurely stroll.

If Mrs. Brown thought babies up all night was something, she can now listen for her sons to get home from youth long after she's in bed. If she thought rousting grade five boys out of bed and making sure they brushed their teeth was a good workout, she can now wake to the smell of coffee made at five am when one son leaves for work or listen for footsteps when another son arrives home off the combine at two am. If Mrs. Brown thought being youth-leaders with toddlers was challenging, well, she was right. It was. But with older boys and one preschooler she managed six months of school board duties and Villa board duties, simultaneously.

There are myriad problems with the whole concept of stories about teenage boys; teenage boys do not care to be part of stories, Mrs. Brown or not. Teenage boys need a lot of privacy and respect.

And here we shall part again with Mrs. Brown, hoping to meet once again, soon, even in obscurity.

Harvest

Harvest

Harvest has come and gone once again. Snow covers our deck but the green grass still peeps through. This year was our first year being involved with actual farm land harvesting. Colby is working for Jason Regehr, running grain cart and other assorted jobs. Pat ended up helping Jason out. And Zach even did a couple weeks of grain cart when they got another combine. We’ve run crazy hours and sleepless nights. It’s good to have the combining done and the rush over.

Harvest and fall have always made me feel nostalgic and sad. Summer is over. The warm days are gone. I can hardly love the long fall days well enough just because I know winter is around the corner. Which is kind of odd, considering I like winter.

I love the garden harvest days, when bowls of ripe tomatoes grace my entrance floor and peppers fill my fridge. I love the stacks of dusty onions and the sink rounded full of washed carrots. I love rows of newly dug potatoes and the stack of corn stalks off to the side of the garden where the cats play.

This year Pat used his tree spade that he made and moved another good bunch of trees from our large tree patch to their rightful spot, a neat row down the shop driveway. Talk about instant gratification.

One evening we all went over to Jason’s for supper with the harvest crew and a large luscious harvest moon hung low on the horizon. One lone black tree spread its barren branches against the moon and dug its feet low down on the horizon.

Rows and rows of brightly colored jars line my pantry. Layers of dust accumulated over the summer need to be washed away. Half my windows are clean and shiny and the other half have spots and dust. Fall always brings me up short with the cleaning and I want to dig deep into the kitchen drawers with rags and water. My freezers are full to almost bursting with bags of sweet corn and large packages of raspberries and saskatoons.

My storage room has huge piles of camping gear that just needs to be put away and sorted and the winter tubs of clothes open and spilling out in the center of the room where the boys have dug frantically in their time of need. Empty jars are stacked all mish-mash, needing sorting as well.

It’s funny how fall can bring a flood of memories just by seeing last years tiny winter boots and the toys and trappings of yesterday's little boys turned men. It’s just life, this time of endings and changes. And there’s so much to be grateful for in these best days of harvest.

Harvest

Heads of wheat with a golden crown

Large round bales of palest brown

Lawns of green and leaves that dance

Garden bare in large expanse

Harvest moon, a large round plate

Barren trees on horizon straight

Geese a-flying overhead

Sunset glimmers a scarlet thread

Bugling elk sound echoing

Moving cattle bellowing

Empty pastures, empty nests

Hoes and wheelbarrows laid to rest

Harvest time has come and gone

Snow resplendent in morning dawn

Ah, the winter days are mine

Goodbye, goodbye sweet summertime

In Which Life Happens

I went to Grandma Lily's funeral on Friday in Saskatoon. Grandma Lily is Arlen & Jodi's foster boys Grandma (Brandon). She was 79 and the pastor of her church said she had been a believer of Jesus since 2004. They spoke of her thankfulness and happiness in times of sorrow and hardship. It was a blessing and a reproof to be at her funeral. I'm glad I got to know her and I'm glad I could go be with Arlens there.

I came straight to school on my way home from town. The teachers wanted to practice their skit for the school meeting this next week, so as many school board as possible tried to be there. That turned out good. I had bought a bunch of subs at Subway on my way home to feed my men supper and found out almost right away that Pat and Colby would be in the field and then Wyatt ended up going to Rennies. So I left a foot-long with the teachers for coffee break.

Then I headed to the Villa where I helped put on a bridal shower for Jessica Wohlgemuth. It turned out so pretty and fun. It was truly a pleasure to be part of it. And a lot of work. (Hiding my head in my hands.) I feel like a rather old lady at times. We set up lots of trees and greenery and strung light through the ceiling of the Villa basement. Then we set up many chairs in groups, kind of swagging between trees and it made for cozy visiting. Shani and Missy did 'toilet paper brides' which was a fun ice breaker. We did lots of cactus in terracotta pots and white taper candles and white tea lights in glass holders. We served veggies in tiny brown ribbed cups with a bit of dilly dip on the bottom, bruschetta and mini lime cheesecakes on footed glass cake plates. She got a heap of gifts and the whole thing was truly fun.

Then on Saturday Pat & I decided to go to Casper & Janalee's reception in Carrot River. Colby was working and Zach was with Karlos and Caleb. And Wyatt stayed at Pat's folks. So, just Pat & I went. Finally had some time to visit just us. It was glorious. We had about a four hour drive. We all of a sudden came upon the Bronco crash site. There were so many crosses. It makes the devastating loss feel real all over again. The reception was good. It was a pretty low-key affair at the Carrot River Community Hall. Brent met us at the door and told us right away that we had a place at the family table with them. We sure hadn't planned on that but it was fun to be with them all again and connect. Uncle Harold & Kathy were there, as well as Tannis and Tamara. Rona had made chokecherry pies especially for the family tables, so that was quite something to get in on. The youth sang. Wayne & Bonnie brought some good thoughts. And so did Lars & Shari. And then we ate a taco stack up meal with pies & icecream for dessert. I enjoyed meeting so many old friends and lovely people. And we drove back home yet when we were done. It was a late one but we're so glad we could go.

Today was literally a day of rest. We had toast and wheatlets porridge for dinner. Truly, not my general fare. Colby got hungry in the afternoon for 'meat' he said. So he grilled a bunch of venison and ate it all himself. I got him to grill the fish I had thawed in the fridge, as well. I made Wyatt playdough today and read him lots of stories. Pat stayed home with him tonight while the boys and I went to council meeting. Then Colby went to Shane's to practice youth Christmas songs and Pat went to school meeting.

And this is only a few days.

How has your life been going?

Something Has To Give

I know it's just my stage of life and the time of year, but it's just not possible to get everything done that needs to be done.

The pantry shelves are almost sagging with the load of row upon row of canned veggie juice, salsa, green beans and jams, jellies and pickles. The freezer is loaded down with sorted boxes and bags of sweet corn, raspberries and strawberries.

The wind whips through the empty garden. Only a few flowers remain and the large mounds of rhubarb plants. My shed is partially sorted through. A pile of hooks lie waiting to be hung on the walls and the rakes, shovels, forks and edgers are piled high on the back deck, awaiting disbursement.

The pool needs to be emptied and taken down. The picnic spot needs to be tidied and winterized. The flower pots need to be emptied and redone for winter.

And this is only one small part of life.

We have schoolboard duties. And busing. And teenagers. And a grade one boy. And a sick grandpa. And parents on a month-long holiday with house and thangs that need to be looked after. And puppies to train. And a million trees that need to be moved within the next week. And a wedding in November. And a shower I'm helping with. And school meeting in Linden. And windows to wash.

And so.

Something has to give.

And someone needs to remain calm and peaceful. And learn to laugh a bit more.

Just saying.

Puppies and a Snow Storm

Now that my little boy is in school I can hop in the vehicle with my husband for a day trip here and there. The other day it was to Regina, about two and a half hours south of us. He had a meeting and needed to deliver a load of couplings to Sask Power. So, I sat in the vehicle and wrote lists of all the things I needed to do back home. Colby and Pat had been out late the night before, harvesting. I had an evening booked for planning Jess's shower. And so, out of the blue (well, not totally and completely, but sort of), we went and bought two puppies.

I am not exactly a dog fan. But we've known for a long time that our boys need another dog. And probably a puppy. And probably sooner than later. But oh! The work! The training! The poop! Any thought or talk about it sent me running to my room to lie under my bed. Not literally, of course. But mentally. I c.a.n.n.o.t. raise a puppy, as well as my boys.

And so.

And so. 

Why not two, instead of one? Why not these cute little mutts we found on kijiji for pittance? Why not today?

And this is how I find myself at home by myself these days, scooping poop. Teaching little girls to sit. Feeding on a schedule. 

I named theme Phoebe and Gertrude. They're a pitbull, wolfhound cross. They are adorable. They are fun. They are busy. Help.

And over the first days of having these babies at home we also had an unseasonable snowstorm. Maybe six inches of heavy wet snow that bent the trees with all their lovely fall leaves almost in half. Some branches snapped off. Some trees I went and shook to save the branches.

Colby went and rolled in the huge pile of snow on the deck (in his swim trunks). Wyatt made snowball after snowball, huge ones. And the dogs barked. I stood shivering under the trees waiting for them to poop while large clumps of snow plopped down around me.

This is not for the fainthearted.

In Which Summer Flies By

So Zach graduated this year, by himself. He is quite a dashing young man with his black hair and all. We threw him a grad party; pizza, chocolate cake and baseball. It doesn't really get better than that. My mom came out, all the while wondering if Aunty Rosalie would die while she was here.

The end of June we took the bestest ever camping trip way up north (same old, same old) with Rennie & Bren and their family and Ster. It was truly the best. We had hot hot days. One evening while I was showering in the dark the fireflies flitted overhead and the loons song echoed around me. We had a bear in our camp; a young-ish black bear that was interested in old food and not us. Bren and I sang campfire songs loudly to it and bravely chased it away with a stick!

A week later Pat took the youth boys camping at the same spot, rain and cold the whole time. Then Wyatt and I hitched a ride with Jason and Miranda and their four kids and we did another camping adventure with them. We had such a good time. They were good sports, for sure, never having so much as tented before. It was a real deep dive from the safe shore for them. They said they loved it. And that's what counts.

And then. Hold your breath. We went camping again. To the same lake, this time with Arlen & Jodi, Bri, Justyn & Nicole, Chris n Mik. It was so great!! Our 'regular' spot was taken so we took a much smaller space around the corner and pitched our tents in rather close proximity to each other! But it turned out great! Some highlights from this trip were watching a bear swim from one island to another, eating wild strawberries, raspberries, blueberries and gooseberries (there is simply nothing that beats wild fresh berries), the large fish jumping at night (hmm, where are Colby and Zach anyway?!), and bootin' it outta there when the skies were fair and lovely because of a storm coming. And were we ever glad. We got some cute little cabins in town that night and when the winds came up and the lightning flashed one old tree landed on our cabin. We were glad we weren't in our tents.

We had so many meals around our own little campfire at home, as well. We watered garden. We hosted teachers prep. We worked and played, fished and picnicked. Mowed the yard and went swimming.

The last week before school started Alex spent the week with Pat's mom (and some of that time with us), Grandpa Esau hurt his back again and no one else was home to pick up the scattered pieces except us and we spent every day at school or shopping for school. It was truly a three in one deal. But we managed. And even kept a bit of humor intact.

And just like that it's fall. The nights are cold and it gets dark so soon. Colby and Zach are both enrolled in grade 10 online which has proven to be a little larger than I had imagined. Wyatt is in grade one. Some days my head spins. But most days we are so joyful and grateful to be where we're at; frying pancakes early in the morning, picking huge bowls of ripe tomatoes and peppers, canning up apple sauce, juggling calls with public school teachers and all.

In Which Wyatt Goes To School

I'm trying to do a bunch of free writes. Hopefully I can joggle the old brain and see if I can write again.

So Wyatt started school on September third. I want to capture these moments. He's six and a half, not super tall, very slim and fast and wiry and fun. He's reading short children's books. He's self taught in his reading but has quite a propensity for large words. He is my only child who has done this.

Some things I worry about with him starting school is how sensitive he is. He gets embarrassed over the minutest things. And how in charge he is. Will he boss the whole school around? My other two boys are followers and quieter people. This one is in charge. This one is the alpha male.

Another thing that's a little hard with him is that he still struggles with asthma tendencies. He's so very much better than when he was a baby inhaling baby powder and Raid. But he still gets a fever instantly and a serious croupy cough that can turn asthma-ish without his medicine. And so, of course, I'm this mama that doesn't know when to send him to school. If I was willing for him to bring his puffer and use as needed I suppose he would be fine. But the puffers scare me and I go natural with him as long as possible. I guess his teacher is his fine and lovely cousin who would learn the puffers if I wanted her to but... we shall see.

PARENTING IS NOT FOR THE FAINTHEARTED.

I'm sorry. I yelled. But this whole thing of sending another feisty handsome man through nine grades of school scares me. And it's almost funny, starting again in the youngest class. We've been used to upper grades for quite some time. Also, I'm glad we don't have a year of no school children like some of our friends.

On we go. Making little lunches. Home for early bedtimes. Cuddles and stories together. And listening to all the funny stories that come home from school.

Did I mention that this child talks far more than my other two put together?

It's interesting.

the big 4-0

so here i am.
middle aged. i never would have guessed that i would be so much my little girl, sixteen-year-old, gone through all the things self. i'm still me. just older. hopefully a little bit wiser.

i absolutely loved my birthday. i think it was the best one i've ever celebrated. i felt loved and special. and i let myself totally love the idea of being forty. no holding back. bring on the next forty years!

my people went out of their way to make it a special day. we had a big fancy tea party at pat's mom in the morning. complete with mini baked cheesecakes with fancy paper lace liners and all the loveliest toppings. all the things in white and lace and pink and gold. old fashioned tea cups and hot tea in china tea pots. fruit and dip. and mini quiches. pink lavetera and white mums. so many lovely gifts.

so many grateful thoughts. i am so very blessed.

my goals for the future:
aging gracefully, gratefully, happily
smiling
thinking a little bit longer before i speak
practicing the 'they meant it well' outlook

things i'm especially grateful for at 40:
a great marriage
3 great kids
that we're as far down the road with our kids as we are
old friends
true friends
my mom and sisters
my dear mother (in law)
Jesus

things i'd like to learn and do:
make sour dough bread
volunteer again in palliative care
start my own coffee/fabric shop
get my GED
take a course on writing
take a course on excel/word
refinish our table
paint our bedroom furniture
update our kitchen
change my garden spot
raise lots of breeds of hens

I am from.....

I am from leather couches
from kuerig machines and induction stove tops.
I am from the charming two story farmhouse
fresh bread baking and essential oils.
I am from the manicured lawns of underground sprinklers,
old gnarled maples and stately elms,
perennial beds with old wagon wheels perched close.

I am from evenings sitting around the fire
and meals at consistent times every day,
from Klassen and Isaac,
from quiet humor and impulsive story telling
and a giant heart for the down and out.

I am from voices full of inflection while reading
and 'it will all be better in the morning'.
I am from large Christmas gatherings.
I am from Grande Prairie, AB and German Mennonites,
roast beef in a crock-pot and rhubarb crisp with ice-cream,
from manly interest in planes, dirt-bikes, drones,
a tableful of men discussing mechanics,
tents, axes, jackknives and guns,
a favourite island on Otter Lake,
loons, bear, wild strawberries and pounding falls.

These Days

• First day of school for my littlest boy. I need a dozen emojis.
• coffee with Melanie, our tradition for the first day of school. And this will be our last year as this is her girls last year in school.
• FALL - I'm not sure at all how we hit September so quickly. But here we are with colored leaves and chilly nights and fresh corn on the cob.
• Last week I managed a three in one week; a week of helping/visiting Grandpa Esau once or twice a day, a week of Alex, and a week of school prep and shopping.
• My two oldest are officially enrolled in grade 10. I have no idea how this will go.
• Our two oldest got baptized in August.
• These two have both worked full time all summer. Praises be.
• We totally outdid ourselves with camping trips this summer. I shall write about them all someday. I hope.
• I am so excited to go forth from here...

IFF - An Animal

A cat is a beautiful, sleek, aloof creature which should on no terms ever be allowed to live in my house. A cat must feed on rodents and keep their population under control. A cat must be smart and agile and keep itself clean. It is playful and cute and baby kitties shall be the sweetest thing ever with their fluffy fur and playful ways. But a cat must keep it's distance. And it shall never ride in my vehicle during the winter. And it must sit and preen itself in the sunshine and cast a lovely shadow on the deck.

IFF - 10 Things I'd Tell My Before Marriage/Children Self

1. Life isn't fair. I did know this but I wish I had been taught better to accept life and it's uncertainties and not to dramatize so much.

2. Thankfulness is everything. The bible says, in everything give thanks. This one thing makes life okay. Thankfulness really is the answer.

3. Core Values. I wish I had had more of an idea what I wanted for core values before I had children. I suppose we all have our things and it's okay. But it doesn't hurt to think about where we want our children to go as adults and how we want to get there. Only looking back I realize that these are my top core values.

• Jesus first.
• Be nice to EVERYONE.
• Respect yourself and everyone else.

4. Confidence. I really do wish I had been taught more confidence and especially in the area of food. We have to have confidence ourselves to teach our children confidence. You can do this. Don't be afraid to make mistakes. Learn to laugh at yourself.

5. Laughter is truly the best medicine. If you can laugh at yourself, it's gonna be okay. Let go.

6. Mental health is important. Exercise. Take your vitamins. Get enough sleep. Drink lots of water. Practice thankfulness.

7. Love is a choice. You decide to love and respect your husband. Your in-laws. Your children. Your fellow board wives. Your staff wives. Sometimes it's hard. That's okay.

8. Everyone means well. Maybe they don't but practice thinking that they do. It's not your problem if they don't.

9. Let the kiddos be creative. Don't let others judgement of neatness, cleanliness and properness affect your own judgment. They are your kiddos. What's most important to you? That they have an imagination and can figure things out on their own? Or that your house was clean for company on the weekend? I know. We want both. But sometimes we have to choose.

10. Choose JOY!!! It's a choice. When life looks big and scary, go small-small with your joy bucket. Do things like examining a single snowflake, building a fire in the fireplace and inhaling the outdoor, woodsy smell or sniffing your little boys head after a bath. Or how about this. When the entrance door bursts open and little bodies clamor in, falling over each other and the boots, toques and gloves get flung under the chairs and on top of the gun-case, you smile and look into their sparkling eyes, kiss their cheeks and smell the clean winter-y smell of fresh air and oxygen.

IFF - Black & Blue, Physically Hurt

So here's the thing. I need to walk and exercise. I've got this lifetime struggle with big hips and a mommy-tummy. And it may seem silly, but only a couple months of no walking - Nov, Dec, Jan - really had me packing on the pounds. Not to mention Christmas and goodies and self-control. It's just hard to squeeze them all together. So... wam-bam.

It was time for me the trail. The treadmill. The exercises.

I walked two miles at four point two miles per hour like I (ahem) usually do. I did my 9-minute session of squats and donkey-kicks and crunches.

Well. Lo and behold. It was not an easy day, er, week. My super long toenails cut my feet. My legs ached. My feet ached. It took me a while to start walking each time I stood up. I tried not to look at my husband grinning behind his book as he watched me out of the corner of his eye.

I am proud to say I made myself walk again the next day.

And the next.

And the next.

I've missed some days but I'm confident that my exercising hiatus is officially over. My muscles are no longer black and blue. I'm gonna be okay.

IFF - Something That Feeds Your Soul

I wrote about this in January. I was using an old IFF list, you all. Confessions over, I'm excited to write about more things that feed my soul. Namely, artsy things and beautiful things. So, in no particular order, here are my thoughts.

• Quilting - the colors, the shapes, the designs, the actual quilting. I love it all.
• Painting - My sis, Bren, got me started on water color painting and it's been so much fun! My favourite way to water color paint, I quickly found out, is to draw a picture (like, copy someone else's work) and paint it full of colour and then outline it in black pen or paint. So much fun!
• Drawing - I have always loved charcoal drawing; shading, perspective and whimsical designs and maybe best of all, faces.
• Decor - I have this thing about decor. I love, love bright colors but I try to keep the colourfulness to accessories and not walls. This is for my families sake. Ha. But surprises make me happy. Like, my bright coral/pink pantry, behind closed doors. And the old bench Pat made when he was in school which I painted a brilliant pink. I also love to rearrange things and use and reuse what I have and paint and change things for variety.
• Lettering - My mantel chalkboard has been one of my favourite creative outlets. I like to match the season outside and the season of our life. And I try to always use words of encouragement up there because it's a main focal point of my house.
• Plants & Gardens - Most things in life I wing. Like, either the plants live or die. Ha ha. But plants bring me so much joy! Here are some favourites that don't need much sunshine or consistent watering: spider plant, snake plant, African violets, most succulents and golden pothos plant. I actually don't especially love the African violets but they remind me of Pat's grandma and that's special.
• Gardening - is my happy spot. I spend hours dreaming and ordering and planning and then, of course, the actual work in summer is harder to get done. Gardening is my alone time and I love it. Plus it feeds my family. Fortunately, I love doing up the produce too. There's nothing like rows of red tomato juice and green beans and jars of salsa lining the pantry walls. 

Thrifty or Splurging

Here's my thrifty breakfast that feels like splurging.

Pancakes

1 1/2 cups flour

2 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

6 tbsp oil

1 1/2 cups milk

2 eggs

Butter Syrup

1/2 cup butter

1/2 cup cream

1 cup sugar

1 tsp vanilla

Sometimes basic is truly best.

Have a blessed day! 

IFF - reward

tears blur as

sunlight sparkles,

rainbows form

in the corner of

her eyes

a reward

a silver lining

for almost

everything

A Random Survey

1. What's your favorite company breakfast?

2. What does your local seamstress charge per dress?

3. Do you love or hate playing games? 

4. If you love playing games which would you be most likely to play?

5. What kind of fabric and pattern are you planning on or most likely to sew next?

6. What's your favorite hobby?

7. What do you do with your children when they fight?

8. Should I resurrect Mrs. Brown??

9. Are you a time-planner or list writer or just wing it type of person?

My Soul Is Fed With Needle And Thread

Sew...

My lovely new sewing machine was at the doctor for six months. I finally called in in November and asked about it. Oh, they said, the parts aren't in yet. Then a few days later they called me and told me it was fixed. Go figure.

Anyway, I took my old machine to sewing yesterday again and I've enjoyed my new machine again and hopefully, soon... I will sew fun projects again.

Projects finished in 2018:

• Wyatt's train quilt - much like this one above
• My star scrap lap quilt using this pattern 
  
• My blue and white star quilt that I started when I was seventeen years old. It's huge, a large queen size and I machine quilted it. I hand wrote our marriage ribbon verse around the edge and our wedding date and it feels verily personalized and unique. And each of the twenty blocks is comprised of 140 pieces, with lots of triangles that needed squaring. This is such a large accomplishment for me.
• Revamped Nicole's 'practice' wedding dress to fit her.
• An extra large Dresden table topper in black and red and white.
• Backed and bound and quilted a quilt top from Grandma Esau's things.
• Random Baby Quilts
• A mini quilt with itty-bitty tiny pieces.
• Numerous dresses but only one bridesmaid dress. It was a bit of a challenge because the bridesmaid had never worn a tight weave polyester and only had patterns for stretch fabric. But it turned out and she informed me on the day of the wedding how much she loved it. :)

Projects to finish in 2019

• First off I have about six dresses to sew for my dear MIL
• Hem a pair of pants for Grandpa Esau

Sewing Dreams

•  I've wanted to do a Lori Holt quilt like this for a long time too.

• I have the most giant collection of stretch fabric scraps that I've saved to make braided rugs. Do you think I could manage this project in 2019??
• I have wanted to do a quilt along project for a long time... which one should I try?
• Also I have oodles of 2" patches from my Grandma Eidse. This is what I'm dreaming of making