A Few Things

1. Since the beginning of the year I've read My Brilliant Friend, Winter Wheat, The Girls of Corona del Mar, and Parable of the Sower, all written by women. I wish that my New Year's resolution had been "read more novels written by female writers" because I would be killin' it. All four of them are worth reading.
2. My friend sent me a link to the Bee Caves this week, and I can't stop listening to this song
3. I don't believe in crystals, but these earrings make me think I just might be wrong. Tom bought me a pair for our anniversary last spring because I loved my friend's pair. I wore them almost everyday until I lost them when I took the kids to Philadelphia. I missed them so much that he bought me a new pair for Christmas. Then a week or two ago, my friend Kat told me she found the missing earring. So now I will have a spare pair of my magical earrings that make me feel powerful and cool whenever I put them on. 
4. Old news, but Sena and I watched Iris a few months back, and I think of it often. That woman makes me excited to get old.
5. I don't wear tee-shirts but I made an exception for this one.  
6. I'm writing a monthly contribution for  Indi Moonrose, which is a warm,  beautiful little piece of the internet. Last month I did a write up on bone broth and now I'm working on a piece about turmeric.  It's fun to work on a different style of writing and photography.

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This Weekend We // Extraordinarily Uneventful

This weekend Tom and Gus went camping with the boys, and I picked up an extra pre-teen and, for long stretches, another baby too. On Friday, I watched an embarrassing number of episodes of Jane the Virgin, while alternating holding Alamae and Jettie. I accepted that all I could manage was to keep them happy and fed; nothing else was going to get accomplished. It was liberating in it's own right. I gave myself a pass on housework, laundry and cooking, and leaned into as best I could. However, that many hours of inactivity is a little depressing.  Luckily, falling asleep flanked by baby girls more than made up for the boredom of the day.

On Saturday, we spent time bundled up outdoors, enjoying the sunshine and the acquisition of pink noses. Later, we got soup and grilled cheeses from the local foods food truck. That evening I went to work and made more money than I have since summer, which means I get to have completely guilt free expensive groceries in the house.

While ordinarily I could not care any less about the Superbowl, this year I cared the slightest bit more because Robert McClain who plays for the Panthers, graduated from the high school where I taught for eight years. I used the game as an excuse to make nachos and fry oysters at my parents house (we don't have regular television at our house so we had no way to watch it, which we discovered last year when we had the passing thought that maybe we should turn it on). I watched for maybe two minutes, which was just enough time to spot #27 and call it a day.

Lazy, slow weekends are good to throw in the mix, even if they do leave me pining to make more exciting plans in the near future.

 

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Eleventh Month With You

Your bow legged walk.

Your embarrassed smile when you're told no as you try to start up the stairs or dig in a plant.

Your chirps and your growls.

The way you pat your cousin's head.

Eleven month old you is my favorite you yet.

You are serious and sweet. Determined and tough. You  pick yourself up from your falls. Your tears are easily kissed away.

When I hold Arlo or Jettie Blythe, you push them into someone else's arms, and then return to your play, leaving my lap bare for the moment you want to return to it.

In the mornings, you pull at my clothes, forcing me to greet the day with you perched atop my amble hips.

You beg to be tickled over and over again. You plead to be taken outside when you know your siblings have left you.

You want the whole wide world to pay attention to you. A fourth child who makes certain she will get her due.

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Yellow

yellow popsicle stick sun // sunny chairs on snowy sidewalks // planted plastic plants // the last cupcake // alamae's room //  one warm sock  // art market // curbside

yellow... the color I painted so many walls when I moved into this house, which might make you believe it is my favorite color. In truth, there are so many shades of it that do little to excite me. But saffron, mustard, goldenrod... those colors rank among my very favorite under the great big yellow sun.

Stole this project straight from Hulaseventy.

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This Weekend We

This was a weekend full of feelings. Good and bad and all points in between.  As is my way, I only photographed the peaceful moments. The joyful ones. The one's worth remembering.

And those are still the moments I would like to focus on, but not acknowledging that there were other moments-- less joyful, less peaceful-- feels disingenuous. The days since coming home from New Orleans have been tiring. Alamae has not yet forgiven me for leaving her, so most days, today for instance, she won't allow anyone else to hold her. She won't let me put her down. She won't let me leave her sight. Sunday, I had a few hours of reprieve while at book club. The crowds of babies entertained her, and I was able to enjoy empty arms while perusing the giveaway piles and discussing one of my favorite book club selections to date. My Brilliant Friend captivated me and has me eager to read the rest of the series.

After scoring a nineties babydoll dress for Sena, a wooly brown sweater for Tom, and a stack of handmade pottery for myself, my friend Carrie and I drove the short way over to my sister Claire's house to drink more coffee and eat more sweets while Alamae and Arlo played outside.

When I tried to take a picture of my pregnant little sister pulling cinnamon buns out of the oven in her charming farmhouse kitchen, she forbade me from all photography and wouldn't let conversation resume until I put my camera away. You'll have to trust that her bare face and bright red hair was as sweet a sight as they come.

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