Believe it or not, we got snow on the day I took these photos. And it was raining when I bought the tulips. I canNOT wait for spring to really be here. Abezilla is obsessed with basketball (have I mentioned?! Ha!), and life will be so much easier when we can go out to play every day.

In the meantime, we'll enjoy the bits and pieces as they come.

Around here: 3/22/13

 Just a little photo dump from the last week. Here's what we've been doing:

We've been watching basketball and coloring

And making funny faces

Playing with Mama's phone

More basketball watching

 

More phone (Oh! The faces!)

 

And this. I don't know what this is. What a goof

 

Lots of silliness. Did I mention the funny faces?

 

 

Taking a break

 

 More phone. When he presses the button and sees the photo of himself and Rob, he says, "Beebee! Dada!"

 

We do a little bit of reading

 

And more coloring!

 

And that's just a taste of what our days are like around here.

A Blurb and a List

Here's an excerpt from "Cutting for Stone," a book I'm reading by Abraham Verghese:

By midmorning, when we return from our first Bungalow-to-Casualty-to-Women's Ward-to-Front Gate excursion, with Koochooloo as our bodyguard, the kitchen is alive. Steam rises in plumes as Almaz clangs lids on and off the pots. The silver weight on the pressure cooker jiggles and whistles. Almaz's sure hands chop onions, tomatoes, and fresh coriander, making hillocks that dwarf the tiny mounds of ginger and garlic. She keeps a palette of spices nearby: curry leaves, turmeric, dry coriander, cloves, cinnamon, mustard seed, chili powder, all in tiny stainless-steel bowls within a large mother platter. A mad alchemist, she throws a pinch of this, a fistful of that, then wets her fingers and flings that moisture into the mortar. She pounds with the pestle, the wet, crunchy thunk, thunk soon changes to the sound of stone on stone.

Mustard seeds explode in the hot oil. She holds a lid over the pan to fend off the missiles. Rat-a-tat! like hail on a tin roof. She adds the cumin seeds, which sizzle, darken, and crackle. A dry, fragrant smoke chases out the mustard scent. Only then are the onions added, handfuls of them, and now the sound is that of life being spawned in a primordial fire.

This is probably one of the most well-written passages I've read in a long time. I feel like I'm right there in the kitchen, smelling the smells, and worrying about being splattered by hot oil. I had to re-read it several times last night, just to absorb the whole experience. It was a similar experience to the part in Ratatouille when Remy & Linguine are cruising around the kitchen, really in the groove. Except this is a book, not a movie—it's rare for a book to evoke that kind of response for me. Amazing.

*****

I just read this post by Shaun Groves about an exercise they did while learning about adopting. Challenging, convicting, inspiring.

Here's what my list looks like:
Rob
Christ-follower
Family
American
Knowledge
Home
Cultural Information
Resources
Values
Creating

I'm not sure I can get to the second round of cuts. If I don't have a place to call home, or if I'm not able to create, I kind of become a crazy person. If pressed, though, I guess I'd cross off "creating" and "home" next. And if I'm honest, part of me wants to cross off "values" (which represents my faith on this list) before "home."

What things are left on your list? Could you get down to four?

Peace,

The one about jealousy

So, I have this problem. It’s called Blogs.

I follow a ton of really wonderful blogs. Most of them are written by women who are about my age. And they’re really creative! They cook, they craft, they have great style. I find them very inspiring.

But I also find myself becoming resentful sometimes. Or maybe just jealous. Is there a difference between the two?

In any case, I find myself thinking, “They’re living MY life! They’re doing what I wish I could do!!”

Sometimes this causes me to get up off my couch and go make some change in my life, be it crafting something awesome, finding a way to use what I have to reorganize or redecorate my house, or whatever.

But, more often than not, I just sit and marvel at how these other girls in their late 20s are living their dreams, and I get frustrated that I’m not.

I’m intimated.

I’m fearful.

I want to do something creative and awesome and not be tied down by someone else’s rules. But I don’t know where to start. I have a grand image of what it might look like in the end, but I don’t know how to get there.

Someday I’ll figure out what I want to do with my life. In the meantime...

Peace,