a.rose

It is nearing the end of November and there is a bitter chill in the air.  My yard looks like this now, and I try not to feel sad about my little backyard friends, exposed without their leaves, shivering in the cold, harsh Nebraska wind.  The marigolds fought a brave fight, continuing to bloom against all odds, but they too eventually bowed to nature's course and went to sleep. But these! They grow just out my kitchen window, and there they are day after day looking so chipper and resolute that they brighten up my world.  Yet I know that one cold morning soon they too will admit defeat and slip away into hibernation with all the rest. When that dark and gloomy morning comes I will try not to focus on the loss of my cheerful little friends, but rather to focus on the anticipation of seeing them again come next spring.  It helps to have something to look forward to, doesn't it? She brightens up my world every day too.

There are days, or rather moments in days when I feel the passing of time and recognize that it has left its mark on me. I know that I am not old yet, but there are times when the child inside me cries out, and the teenager whines and the young adult just looks perplexed - "When did maturity, respectability, responsibility - when did they come knocking at our door, and why did we let them in?" It is in those moments, the quiet ones where I acknowledge and accept the passing of time as a natural and beautiful thing that I know I have invited time in, to sit down and have a nice cup of cocoa with me as I contemplate where I have been, what I am doing, and where I am going.  Unfortunately, time is occasionally rude and forceful, pushing its way into my life like an overeager cop with a search warrant. And so, to the perplexed young adult, the whining teen, and the crying child inside me who are horrified by the invasion of time, and refuse to move peacefully along with it,...

To every thing there is a season , and a time to every purpose under the heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die ; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to weep, and a time to laugh ; a time to mourn , and a time to dance; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to get , and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; a time to keep silence , and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate ; a time of war, and a time of peace. This is the season of life for Hanna right now: A time for constant movement. Because who has time to sit still? A time for heart melting smiles. Can you see why I call her my "Sunshine Sparkles"? A silly nickname, I agree - but fitting, don't you think? A time for eating .   In Hanna's world it's always time for eating.  And it's all good. Tune in later to see the the season of Devin...

To every thing there is a season , and a time to every purpose under the heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die ; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to weep, and a time to laugh ; a time to mourn , and a time to dance; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to get , and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; a time to keep silence , and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate ; a time of war, and a time of peace. This is the season Hallie is in right now: A time for braided hair. This is the first time Hallie has ever let me braid her hair like this. It is the first time I have ever done a braid like this, on anyone's head. Maybe she somehow knew that, and that was the reason for her reluctance?  Anyhow, I don't know what kind of braid it is. At first I thought it was not a French braid, then I thought it ...

We have all been given talents, gifts, special skills.  Some people are born knowing what they are good at and they spend their whole lives developing it.  Some people, like me, spend their whole lives wondering what they are good at and so try their hand at a little bit of everything. I like to be cozy. I like soft and snuggly.  I like warm fuzzy, furry, friendly, fireside cozy. It takes me forever to get situated just right though.  Here is a typical sampling of what is in my head as I search for just the right spot in my cozy. "Oh, this is going to be good. That's my favorite spot on the couch. Ok, we're down.  Alright now legs up and arms in, blanket on, oh yeah this is going to be a good one.  Ah, there's an itch. Just there on my left arm.  Do I have to get it? Ok, ok that's better.  Eh, oh dear. Now my pants are rumpled. We're going to have to straighten that out.  Ok ok, pants are fixed.  Uh, there's hair in my face.  On...

First of all, no I don't actually know these people. But any friend of my sister's is a friend of mine.  And these are friends of my sisters. Second of all, if I were ever in a similar position, where I wanted something so badly that had been denied to me, and what I wanted was a good thing and I was a fully deserving person, I would appreciate it if people went to bat for me. See here's the thing.  This nice couple wants a baby.  For long years they have waited, and wondered, and tried and prayed and been unsuccessful.  They have recently been approved for adoption. So what does this have to do with you?  Well, maybe nothing at all. But MAYBE you know someone, or you know someone who knows someone who is on the other end of that very difficult decision. And if they come to you for guidance, could you, would you, mention adoption? And if you mention adoption, and the person you know seems interested, could you, would you, mention this nice couple? Bec...

I wish I could recall where or when I heard this, but the idea was expressed by someone somewhere that people who eat meat but aren't willing to hunt and kill the animal themselves were hypocrites, enjoying their meat because it no longer had a face and they weren't responsible for putting it on the plate. I have thought about that for a long time.  Which is why I no longer remember the opinion's origins.  I do apologize for that.  I eat meat.  I do not eat a lot of meat, because honestly, except for bacon and sausage I am not a huge fan of meat.  But I eat it, and occasionally, I am not ashamed to admit, I even like it.  Am I a hypocrite? I would not be willing to hunt and kill an animal.  I thought about that for a long time.  So do I come to the conclusion that if I am unwilling to butcher the animal, and slice up the meat myself before cooking and eating it I am a hypocrite? I don't want to be a hypocrite.  I started thinking of all...

C is for Cookies.  When I'm in the kitchen, you know there's gonna be cookies baking.  Chocolate chip cookies, chocolate chocolate chip cookies, ginger cookies, lemon cookies, you name it, I bake it. B is for Bread. When Devin is in the kitchen, you know there's gonna be bread baking.  Pita bread, whole wheat bread, tortillas, bagels, muffins, you name it, he bakes it. I think it's a toss up which set of baked goods are more popular around here. not pictured: Cason's piece of bread. Who eats soup when there's warm bread to be had?

We've been working on colors with Hallie for a while now.  It is unclear whether she just plain doesn't know them, or is unwilling to demonstrate her knowledge of them.  She almost never answers correctly if you ask her what color something is, and when playing a game involving colors that Devin made up she never seems to "get it". I wasn't too worried.  She's still young, right?  Then I realized all her friends who are younger than her knew their colors.  Ah well, each in their own time.  I'm sure she knows things that they don't know, and it will all even out and be fine. I loved Teddy Ruxpin when I was a kid. I have a whole stack of my Teddy Ruxpin books from when I was a child on the bookshelf in Hallie's room.  She has recently discovered the delight that is Teddy Ruxpin.  On the front inside flap of each book the characters are portrayed.  Mudblup, Gutang, Grunge, Bounders, Tweeg, you get the picture. Strange looking creatures with...