Outside My Window...it is just becoming light, but we have gray skies and drizzle -- expecting a little rain throughout the morning. Was out earlier this morning with Elsa and it's a humid 47 degrees - very nice for this time of year. Today's normal hi/low is 35/21. There was a gray rabbit in our front yard just a little while ago.
I'm thinking...I have a "can-do" attitude. We have a busy week and I'm taking it head-on.
From the learning rooms...like I said, we have a busy week, so we will try to squeeze in some academics here & there, but mostly just the school of life. We are almost done in our studies of the American Revolution - was hoping to get it done by Thanksgiving, but will take just a little bit longer. I am thankful for...my husband was playing on the floor with Elsa last night and Elsa came at him with her mouth wide open, like usual - just puppy play, and she got him with her teeth on his eyelid. Blood everywhere. I'm thankful it was just his eyelid and not his eye. He is okay & his eyelid looks much better this morning. A good reminder to us all that Elsa is going to be a good guardian dog.
From the kitchen... M -Pancakes & Bacon T - Pasta
W - Hot Dogs (I use Hebrew National) TH - THANKSGIVING FEAST at In-Law's
F - Taco Salad
S - Grilled Teriyaki Chicken
S - Meatloaf
I am wearing...denim capris, navy fleecy top, sports socks, hair is in a pony.
I am reading... Thru the Bible Each Year: OT: Ezekiel; NT: I Peter, KJB;
Elsa doesn't give me much time to read lately, but I try to sneek in a little here & there - mostly web articles.
I am hoping... our Thanksgiving goes well - holidays with difficult people (mainly my mom) is always stressful.
I am creating... nothing right now, except getting a jump on Christmas this year. Have most of my shopping done and will start baking cookies this week.
I am hearing... the clock tick; my fingers bang on the keyboard; Amber is ironing.
Around the house & barn... my days are filled with (1) caring for puppy -- play & taking her outside so she doesn't get into trouble indoors; (2) cleaning up after puppy -- a non-stop job, esp. after we have been away for a few hours -- she trashes her pen from separation anxity I suppose; and (3) trying not to wake puppy lest I have to go back to #1 prematurely.
One of my favorite things... reading God's Word.
I am going... to do a little shopping today - DH's birthday is coming up. A few plans for the rest of the week (besides school)...
M - shopping; cleaning; maybe horseback riding, but it's pretty wet right now T - we have been asked by the nursing home to go on the bus with a few residents on an outting W - clean house top to bottom; bake pumpkin pie
TH - Thanksgiving at In-Laws
F - Staying Home!!!
S - Quiet Family Time
S - Church & Family Time
A picture thought I am sharing with you...
Elsa is so helpful - she helps me off with my socks (umteen times a day).
(Yes, the paper shreds from her box get all over her fur & all over our socks and thus all over our house - but this too will pass).
She helps me sweep the floor (notice she has a few broom straws in her mouth - ready to drag it away) She helps me scrub the floor (carrying away my ShamWOW).
With all this help, it's a wonder why I don't get anything done. :)
(Sorry, I won't be talking about puppy all the time - it's just what is consuming my life right now). Have a good day!!!
That's all for today!
Thanks for stopping! Have a Blessed Week!
Much thanks to our hostess Peggy for the Simple Woman's Daybook
One of my friends made this for our Pumpkin Party earlier in the month. It was SO yummy I had to get her recipe. I am hoping to make this today to share with my mom who arrived yesterday to spend Thanksgiving week with us. :^)
Pumpkin Dump Cake
1 can pumpkin (29 oz.)
1 C sugar
1 can evaporated milk (12 oz.)
3 eggs
1 box yellow cake mix
4 tsp pumpkin pie spice
1/2 tsp salt
3/4 C melted butter
1 C chopped pecans
Combine pumpkin, sugar, evap. milk, eggs, spices, and salt in mixing bowl. Beat well. Pour into greased and floured 9x13 glass pan. Sprinkle cake mix evenly over mixture. Sprinkle the pecans over the cake mix. Pour melted butter over all. Bake at 350 for 50-60 minutes. Watch closely, burns easily. (Knife inserted in the middle of cake should come out clean when done.)
If you are looking for a new yummy Thanksgiving recipe you might want to give this one a try!
After two days of recovery I've finally lost most of the anesthesia fog and I'm getting a little clearer.
My tummy looks like I'm pregnant with a painted on smiley face where my incisions are. I have four of them, with the lower one hurting the most. I spent part of today searching for sweat pants onine that will fit a 6'2" woman. I'm not sure when I'll be able to button jeans again.
For all of you brave women out there who have had C-sections I sympathize with you in a way I could never before. Boy, am I sore!!
Because everyone was so happy with my results I don't have a clear picture of exactly what was done on Friday but hope to talk to my Dr. tomorrow. I do know I have all my parts and pieces and that makes me smile.
God is so good to give us things we could never even imagine. Of course I'd figured out the three or four options I was going to be faced with and just like HIM he hands me one far better.
• Nov. 22, 2009 - The Day We Saw "Mr. Rogers" in Church
Posted By Cappuccinosmom
During this morning's church service, dad and I noticed Biruk was staring intently into the congregation, unresponsive to our attempts to get his attention.
I asked him what he was looking at, and finally he answered, with eyes shining and a quiet voice laden with awe..."I see...I see...Mr. Rogers."
Sure enough, a few rows ahead and to the right, was an older gentleman in a button-down burnt-orange cardigan. He didn't look much like Mr. Rogers to me (except for the sweater), but looking closer, I could see how a two-year-old might think so. A thin older gentleman, with hair just-so, a certain set of the ears, and a softly pleasant facial expression. Combined with the sweater, "just like" Mr. Rogers.
Dad and Mom do live in Fred Roger's hometown (and his show was produced in Pittsburgh, not too far from where we lived before). Once Biruk heard about this, whenever we walk down the street he grew up on, he has to "wave at Mr. Rogers house!". We don't know exactly which house it is, so we just randomly pick one and wave at it. Between the house and seeing the guy "live" on PBS, it's no surprise that Biruk assumed that the nice old guy in the sweater had to be the real Mr. Rogers. I think I'll wait a few years before I break it to him that Mr. Rogers isn't actually our neighbor. For now, he can go on believing that he's seen Mr. Rogers up close and personal, a distinction he shares with former President Bush and his wife. What a lucky boy!
We recently were finally able to get together with our precious friends, The Hall Family, -- well, a portion of the family. We had a great time catching up and are reminded how very sweet our friendship is. God is so good to bless us with so many wonderful friends.
Mark enjoying some time in the pool:
The group gathered to pose for a quick picture before we had to leave.
We've been close friends with this family since Mark was born. It's so great to reconnect. The children can't wait to do it again.
• Nov. 21, 2009 - Love finds you in Lonesome Prairie, Montana - Book review
Posted By Martyomenko
My Review: When Julia finds herself heading west to oversee an orphan train and finds herself stuck in a tiny town in Western MT, she is confused about what she should do. Her slightly odd employer seems to have signed her up for a marriage as a mail order bride without her permission and without knowing the bridegroom was less than desirable! No money and no place to stay, Julia casts herself upon the mercy of the good people of the town for shelter and food. In exchange she work teaching the children of the town! Meanwhile, the minister of the town is stuck trying to deal with matchmakers, accidental murder, and family issues and is surprised to find himself attracted to the newcomer.
I have read a few of these Love Finds you series and every single one of them has been really good! I actually went out to buy some of them because I have enjoyed them so much. This book was no exception. It is funny, one mishap after another in some ways, but also puts some great history about that part of MT in there. I have to say I did feel a bit irritated by the character of Mrs. Hamlin....she just seemed to be too absent minded and mistake prone to actually organize a successful orphan train, but maybe it was her new husband? Overall this was a great book, this humorous romance will keep you entertained and leave you happy in the end!
- Martha
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
***Special thanks to Amy Lathrop of LitFUSE Publicity Group for sending me a review copy.***
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Tricia Goyer was named Mount Hermon Christian Writers Conference "Writer of the Year" in 2003. Her book Night Song won Book of the Year from ACFW in the Long Historical Fiction category. Her book Life Interrupted: The Scoop On Being a Young Mom was a Gold Medallion Finalist. Tricia has written hundreds of articles, Bible Study notes, and both fiction and non-fiction books.
Ocieanna Fleissis a published writer and has edited six of Tricia Goyer's historical novels. She lives with her husband and their four children in the Seattle area. Connect with Ocieanna on Facebook!
Product Details:
List Price: $12.99 Paperback: 320 pages Publisher: Summerside Press (December 1, 2009) Language: English ISBN-10: 1935416294 ISBN-13: 978-1935416296
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
The sound of little girls’ voices and the sight of the sun streaming through the tall, second-story window of the Open Door Home for Destitute Girls, a privately owned orphanage on upper Manhattan, told nineteen-year-old Julia Cavanaugh that the day had started without her. Julia, an orphan herself, now running the place for the owner, brushed a strand of dark hair from her eyes. She submitted to a second yawn as a twelve-year-old girl hopped onto her bed.
“He’s gonna ask her to marry him, don’t you think, Miss Cavanaugh?”
“Oh, Shelby.” Julia wiped the sleep from her eyes and smiled into the freckled face staring eagerly at her. “Give me a moment to wake before you go asking such things.” Julia stroked the girl’s cheek, her heart seeming to double within her chest with love for the youngster.
The embroidery sampler she’d fallen asleep working on still lay at the end of her bed. She picked it up and eyed the image of a small house she’d copied from Godey’s Lady’s Book. Above the house, she’d stitched the words Home Sweet Home in fancy script. Gazing around the broad room lined with small metal cots and bustling with little-girl chatter, Julia noted the embroidered pillowslips, carefully pressed—albeit dingy—curtains, and dandelions smiling from scavenged jam-jar vases. She’d done her best to make the room pleasant for the girls—and herself. She glanced at their faces and smiled, gladly embracing her role as caretaker.
A less-than-subtle “ahem” from Shelby reminded Julia she’d been asked a question. She glanced at her young charge, still perched on the end of her bed. “What did you ask?”
“Finally.” Shelby eyed her with mock frustration. “I said, do you think they will get married—Mrs. Hamlin and Mr. Gaffin? Haven’t you noticed the way they look at each other?” Shelby’s cheeks hinted of red. Her golden hair was already fixed in a proper bun, her hands and face washed, and her simple dress clean and pressed despite its patches and stray threads.
“Shelby Bruce.” Julia shook her head, as Shelby’s two-year-old sister Beatrice wiggled onto Julia’s lap with a squeal. Julia planted a firm kiss on the top of Bea’s head.
“Married? I don’t think so,” Julia continued. “Mrs. Hamlin would’ve told us—told me—if she was being courted. Mr. Gaffin’s just an old family friend.” Julia wondered where on earth the girl got the notion that their headmistress wished to marry.
Although they have been spending a lot of time together. Julia pushed the thought out of her mind as little Bea shuffled to a stand, planting her pint-sized feet on Julia’s thighs. “Fammy fend!” She pointed a chubby finger at her older sister, Shelby.
“All right, Bea.” Julia plopped the toddler on the floor and swiveled her toward the small bed she shared with Shelby. “Time to straighten your bed.” Then Julia eyed the twins. “Charity, Grace, would you two virtuous girls fetch fresh water for the basin?”
Shelby pushed away from the bed, wrinkled her brow, and thrust her hand behind her as if to support her back—a perfect imitation of their middle-aged headmistress. “Now where did I put my spectacles?” Shelby clucked her tongue as she waddled forward.
Laughter spilled from the lips of the girls around the room. Encouraged, Shelby scratched her head. She plopped down on her bed then hopped up again as if surprised, pulling imaginary spectacles from under her rump. “Oh!” she squealed. “There they are.”
The laughter grew louder, and Julia pursed her lips together to smother the impulse to laugh along with them. She planted her fists on her hips. “That’s enough. All of you know what must be done before breakfast.” The girls’ laughter quieted to soft giggles hidden behind cupped palms as they scattered to do their chores.
Shelby lingered behind, her form now straight and her eyes pensive. “Maybe she forgot to tell you, Miss Cavanaugh.” The young girl gazed up at her. “The way they look at each other—it’s like my ma and pa used to, that’s all.”
Julia folded a stray sandy blond curl behind the girl’s ear. “Don’t worry, my sweet. If Mrs. Hamlin was getting married, we’d be the first to know.”
Julia hoped her own gaze didn’t reflect the sinking disquiet that draped her. Mr. Gaffin was a rich world traveler. If there was any truth to Shelby’s suspicion, Julia couldn’t imagine he’d let Mrs. Hamlin continue to work with orphans. Perhaps they’d get a new headmistress.
Or maybe the girls would be separated, moved to new homes…
If Mrs. Hamlin got married, all their lives would be radically changed. And if Julia had to leave the orphanage, she had no idea what she would do. Julia swept that painful thought away and steadied her gaze at Shelby. She couldn’t hide her true feelings from this girl. Julia took Shelby’s hand and answered as honestly as she could.
“I don’t think she’ll get married, but if she does, God will take care of us, like He always has.” Julia lifted her chin in a smile. “And really, Mrs. Hamlin may be forgetful, but no one could forget that. I sure wouldn’t.”
Ardy, a shy Swedish girl, removed her dirty sheets from a small bed and then approached, taking Julia’s hand. “Don’t ya think you’ll ever be gettin’ married?”
“Actually, there is something I’ve been wanting to tell you all….” Julia leaned forward, resting her hands on her knees.
The two girls eyed each other in surprise, and Shelby’s brow furrowed.
“Come closer.” Julia curled a finger, bidding them.
“What is it?” Shelby asked, her eyes glued to Julia.
The girls leaned in. “I’d like to tell you…that there’s a wonderful man who’s asked me to marry him!”
The squeals of two girls erupted, followed by the cheers of nearly three dozen others who’d been quietly listening from the stairwell.
“There is?” Shelby reached forward and squeezed Julia’s hand.
Julia let out a hefty sigh and giggled. “No, you sillies. Well, at least not yet. Someday. Maybe.”
Shelby pouted “But you said… ”
“I said I’d like to tell you I had a man. I’d sure like to, but of course since I don’t, I’m happy to stay here with all of you.”
The girls moaned.
The squeak of the front door down on the first floor of the Revolutionary War–era home-turned-orphanage drew their attention. They waited as Mrs. Hamlin’s familiar chortle filled the air, along with a bash and clang of items—hopefully food and supplies that she’d picked up.
“Julia!” Mrs. Hamlin yelped. “Julia, dear, where are you?”
“Coming.” Julia hurried down the stairs to help the older woman.
Julia neared the bottom of the steps and paused, trying to stifle a laugh at the sight of the twinkly-eyed woman sprawled flat on her back. Scattered boxes and bags covered the donated rug.
“Mrs. Hamlin! What on earth? Why didn’t you get a steward to help you?”
“Oh, I didn’t want to be a bother.” She cheerfully picked herself up. “I was in such a hurry to show you all what I’d bought. And to tell you my surprise. Such a wonderful surprise.” Julia eyed the boxes and noted they were from R.H. Macy & Co. More than a dozen boxes waited to be opened, and she couldn’t imagine the cost.
“I found just what the girls need, and on sale!” the headmistress exclaimed.
What they need is more food—vitamin drops, too—and maybe a few new schoolbooks. But Julia didn’t dare say it. And somehow God’s hand of providence always provided.
“New clothes, I gather. That is a surprise.”
“But only half of it, dear.” Mrs. Hamlin rubbed her palms expectantly. “I also must tell you my news. The best news an old widow could hope for.”
Julia followed Mrs. Hamlin’s gaze toward the idle youngsters who’d gathered on the staircase to watch. Her eyes locked with Shelby’s, then she quickly looked away. “News?” The muscles in Julia’s stomach tightened.
“Girls,” Julia shooed them away with a wave of her hand, “you know better than to eavesdrop. Off to chores with you. We’ll have breakfast soon.”
The girls started to scurry off, but Mrs. Hamlin halted them with her words.
“No, no,” her high-pitched voice hailed. “Come back. This news is for all of you.” They circled around her, and she tenderly patted their bobbing heads.
“What is it?” Julia wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Mrs. Hamlin’s cheeks so rosy or her eyes so bright.
If you saw us today and thought "What kind of mother makes her toddler walk half-way around a huge lake in wet clothes and a stinky diaper?"...this would be my answer:
The kind of mother who feels terrible about the fact that her son's pants and boots are soaking wet and probably very cold.
The kind of mother who's son walked the first half of the lake dry and warm, and then disobeyed her and sat down in a stream at the exact mid-point of the hike so that she couldn't simply run him back to the car to change him.
The kind of mother who carefully dressed her children in warm clothes and boots suitable for mud stomping. The kind of mother who made sure to put a whole bag of clean clothes and diapers in the back, for just such an occasion. Only she couldn't get to her car when she needed it.
The kind of mother who never, ever properly gauges the amount of time it takes to walk nearly 3 miles with 3 boys who want to stop and look at every hole in the ground.
The kind of mother who was thinking about this because "What kind of mother...?" is a thought that often runs through her own mind, and a comment that she often sees and hears leveled at other women. Being a mom means it is incredibly easy to look bad to others, very difficult to look good to others (since there are so many ideas of "good mothering"), and easier than I'd like to forget that other mothers also have whole lives that lead up to and include the one bad moment I may see.
Welcome to my blog. I want my first thought to always be to please Christ. I have been married to my hero and best friend for 30 years. We have 9 children on earth and 8 waiting at Jesus’ feet. Our oldest is 28 and our youngest is 6. We have always homeschooled and have graduated 5 of our children. We also have 4 grandchildren from our oldest daughter, and they are the sunshine of our lives. Join us on our journey to be faithful to the end.
Elsa is so helpful - she helps me off with my socks (umteen times a day).
She helps me sweep the floor (notice she has a few broom straws in her mouth - ready to drag it away)
She helps me scrub the floor (carrying away my ShamWOW).
