Yer slacking on the blog posts, hey.

My sister said that to me yesterday, so here I am, caving to her pressure and posting. That is pretty much how we talk to each other, too. At any rate, if this sucks, you can blame her.

A couple years ago, I was looking out our kitchen window in mid-April and I felt this huge weight lift from my shoulders. I just suddenly felt this immense relief, and I realized it was the coming of spring. I know about Seasonal Affective Disorder, and I know winter sucks, but it wasn't until that April day that I felt it so concretely. That sense of relief is something I'm anxiously awaiting, now. The end of February is in sight, and then brutal March, and then wet crappy April...

Well, I'm not cheering myself up at all. Harumph.

Here's a picture my mom took a few weeks ago. This time of year, when we sometimes have heavy morning fog which leads to this beautiful crystal white frosting, can be quite lovely. I drove V to Hendrum one such morning, just after the fog lifted, and we watched the sun melt the frost from the treeline. It was really kinda magical.

Speaking of frost, here's evidence that fatherhood is impacting Shaun. The white beard is less noticable if he keeps it trimmed, but this grizzled look is more his way. He's so cute.

You WILL give me candy.

She learned about candy at Halloween. Those candy companies are brilliant. Now she uses her powers for evil, mostly, in attempts to secure more candy.

Look in her eyes and tell me you could tell her no.

Just a little rant...

I saw this on the blog How About Orange, and felt it my duty to share it with you. If you really loved me, you'd buy it for me.

In How About Orange's comments, someone pointed out it looks like a tiny casket, but I don't care. If you know me, you know that only increases my love of it.

Honestly, this is one of those things that I can not justify spending money on now (or ever, really) but I will think of it for the rest of my life. Damn. I hate that. Other things in this category, you ask? Mostly funky furniture pieces from the thrift store that I passed up because I was either too broke or didn't know anyone with a pickup/vehicle large enough to bring it home for me. An especially well-kept sofa-chair set from the 1940s comes to mind. In that dusty 40s green. It had been kept under plastic, I think, for 60 years. The thrift store wanted $60 for both, but by the time I realized I would hate my life if I didn't buy it, it was gone. So here I sit, not on a 1940s chenille green sofa. Ugh.

I haven't posted in awhile, partly because I'm busy with work and all that, but partly because I was getting a little weary of blogland. I subscribe to about 40 blogs (meaning there's a central location I go to look and see if they've been updated, through Bloglines (that link might even take you to my list. Or maybe not. I don't know how this magic computer thing works).

Anyway, mostly I've been reading craft blogs and crafty-mom blogs, as you can (maybe)see. A few of those are blogs of real life friends, too...as for the non-real-life ones, most of the time they'r just a lovely diversion, a place to find covet-worthy orange casket prams and whatnot. But after Christmas I got a bad case of wanties over the life people present on their blogs and how far my life is from that. I know, intellectually, that their lives are shit sometimes, too, and sometimes the laundry doesn't get done and they're late on the eletric bill and their 2 year old cries every time you tell her she can't have a 17th piece of cheese.

But no one blogs about that. At least no one I was reading. No one takes pictures of the mess in the sink that's been there for two weeks and growing its own community. Or maybe that's just in my sink.

And that's the thing: I was feeling so much like it WAS just me. I know enough about the internet to know that this is the way the web works. It makes people/things/the world look simpler (and often more attractive) than it really is. But knowing that did not keep me from feeling guilty that we don't eat more homecooked organic vegan meals, or resentful toward my tv lovin' husband (I love tv too. I'm not saying it was logical resentment).

So I took a step back, and focused on other type of blogs that didn't make me feel so slovenly. And I'm trying to spend more time with flesh and blood friends: Crystal and Todd came over last week for RockBand Festival I, and we're hoping K.C. and Nancy will come play cards/Catan with us soon, and V's friend McKenna can come over and discuss the intricacies of Dora the Explorer with her. This helps. Remembering that I started reading blogs for inspiration, not condemnation, helps too.

At any rate, it's all such a fine line. Sometimes I fall off the line and it catches me under the chin and stings. But I still like the line and want to participate in/on it. And sometimes I just take a metaphor beyond ridiculous.

To end on a happier note, here are the cousins, rolling around at Grandma Myra's one weekend afternoon. They get so excited when they're together that sometimes they just fall down and roll. Hilarious. I especially love Will's face in the second photo.




1940s sofa or not, life's not all bad afterall. I can always just roll on the floor awhile.