Kara P. Flathouse - Eskimo Kisses And Air Hugs

Conflicted Chef- Healthy Chili Mac

2012-02-10T07:27:00.001-06:00

There is a meal in a box out there that sometimes busy moms turn to when they need to quickly feed their family. A large white hand with a smiling face promises all you have to add is meat and you’ll have dinner on the table lickity split. If at this point you have no idea what I’m talking about, that’s good. But if you’ve been tempted to let this “helper” aid you in the kitchen I have a recipe that is simple, healthy, and fast.

My sister, who has NEVER made any meal out of a box, passed this recipe on to me. She’s a new ,busy mommy, and she now understands the challenges of getting a nutritious meal on the table easily. Best of all she sometimes looks frazzled. This makes me happy because I’ve been looking frazzled for the last 12 years. Welcome to Mommyhood!

Here’s the ingredient list:

2 cups uncooked whole wheat pasta noodles (elbow macaroni, or whatever shape you fancy)

2 pounds buffalo meat or lean ground beef (90/10)

1 medium onion chopped

2 garlic cloves minced

1 (28oz) can diced tomatoes, undrained

1 (16oz) can kidney beans, rinsed and drained

1 (6oz) can tomato paste

1 (4oz) can chopped green chilies

1 1/2 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon chili powder

1/2 teaspoon ground cumin

1/2 teaspoon pepper

2 cups reduced fat cheddar cheese

First cook the macaroni according to the package instructions. In another skillet brown the meat, onion, and garlic until the meat is no longer pink. (If you are using lean meat you should not have to drain it, but if you do see some fat in the skillet drain it off). Add the tomatoes, beans, tomato paste, chilies, and seasonings. If your skillet is big enough you can add the noodles to the meat mixture. If you don’t have room that’s okay you can layer the noodles and meat mixture when you put it in the pan.

Spray a 13 X 9 inch pan with cooking spray. I was able to divide this mixture into two pans. One 13 x 9 and a smaller 7 x 11, I felt that I could stretch this meal into two. Anyway, place the noodles and the meat in the pan and bake at 375 degrees F for 25 to 30 minutes with a foil covering. When it starts to bubble around the edges it should be ready.Remove the foil sprinkle cheese on top and bake until cheese is melted.

This is great served with a side of coleslaw or a big green salad!

It’s difficult to see, but this casserole dish I inherited from WB’s grandmother. It’s been around for many years and I can’t help but wonder how many casseroles have been made in it!

Tell me have you ever used the “helper” in the kitchen? It’s okay to be honest, we’re all friends here

Dear Daughters, A Beautiful Heart Is Yours

2012-02-09T07:00:00.001-06:00

This is the second letter in a series written to my three daughters. The first one can be found here.

Dear Daughters,

As you grow older I’m catching glimpses of the young women you soon will become. Slowly, you are letting go of my hand and venturing into life on your own terms. I’m not sure who is more nervous, me or you, but it’s happening never less. There is no turning back, just moving forward. And you will be just fine because all three of you have beautiful hearts.

I know, you think I’m prejudiced because I am your mother. Well okay, that is probably true, but I’ve known the hearts of many and yours are truly beautiful. I’m proud to watch your beautiful hearts as you grow.

I see it in your feet when they walk to the one person who is standing alone in a room full of people. It’s in the high five you give to the person that just beat you, because you like to see others win. It’s in the gentle way you nurse a butterfly with an injured wing back to health. I see it in the way your nose scrunches as you try to figure out how to help your distraught sister. It’s evident in the clothes you choose to wear and your complete lack of needing to look like anyone else your age. I hear it in the questions you ask about homeless people, war, sickness, and death. I can find it in the way your lips curve into a smile after you’ve made someone else happy. I watch it as you put the needs of someone else above your own.

God has blessed you each with a beauty that shines not just on the outside, but on the inside as well. Guard it well, it is a gift. Don’t let others persuade you to believe your beauty comes from somewhere else. Or that your beauty needs to be altered in some way for it to be truly appreciated. Be secure in knowing that the beauty you possess originates from your heart; a beautiful light in your heart.

Love you bunches,

Mom

This post is a part of August McLaughlin’s Beauty of A Women’s Blogfest.I am so honored be a part of it. Please click on the link below to go to August’s amazing blog. Check in on Friday to find links to many other stories about beauty and enter a chance to win one of many prizes, including a Kindle!

Conflicted Chef- Oatmeal Cookie Pancakes

2012-02-02T10:16:00.002-06:00

Once upon a time I had a blog dedicated to my homeschooling adventures and the following recipe was featured there. It is one of my most looked at posts so I thought I’d share it again here. They seem to be a hit. But really, if someone says breakfast and cookie at the same time it’s bound to make people look. Reminds me of Bill Cosby and feeding his kids chocolate cake for breakfast. But these pancakes are actually healthy, not so sure about the chocolate cake. But who am I kidding, if Bill Cosby offered me chocolate cake for breakfast I’d eat it without question.

So without further ado, here is the post from 2 years ago:
This morning Em made some very yummy pancakes for breakfast. They are the Healthy Oatmeal Cookie Pancakes from the cookbook Getting Thin and Loving Food by Kathleen Daelemans. She used to have a show on Food Network and I enjoyed her healthy spin on good food.
The neat things about these pancakes are they are filling and can be eaten without butter and syrup. If you feel the need to put something on them try some natural peanut butter.
Recipe:

1/3 cup all-purpose flour
1/3 cup whole wheat flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cinnamon
2 large egg whites
2 tablespoons light or dark brown sugar
1 cup plain low-fat yogurt
1 cup low-fat buttermilk
1 cup old-fashioned rolled oats ( not instant)
2 apples, peeled, cored, and diced
1/2 cup dark raisins
1/2 cup chopped walnuts
Nonstick cooking spray

Combine both flours, baking soda, and cinnamon. Set aside.
Place egg white, brown sugar, buttermilk, and yogurt in a large mixing bowl. Whisk until combined. Add rolled oats, apples, raisins, walnuts, and dry ingredients. Stir until just combined. Do not over mix.
Lightly coat a large nonstick skillet with cooking spray and heat over medium-high heat. Spoon pancake batter by heaping tablespoonfuls around pan until you can’t fit any more. Let cook until bubbly and lightly brown. Turn and continue cooking just until lightly brown on the other side. Continue with remaining batter.
We put a bowl of raisins on the table, since some of us (yes, me), don’t like raisins in things. We wrap our leftover pancakes individually in plastic wrap and then put them all in a big Ziploc and toss in the freezer. You can heat these up in the toaster or microwave later.

So tell the truth, have you ever eaten cake or cookies for breakfast? I’m hoping someone says yes or I’ll feel really guilty

My Imperfectly, Perfect Life

2012-01-31T08:45:00.001-06:00

The following post I wrote almost 3 years ago. I needed to read it this morning for many reasons. I needed to share it for many more. Somehow we have come to a place in our lives in which people look to WB and I for inspiration, for guidance in their own marriages. I am humbled, but also frightened by this. No marriage is without hard times. No family picture perfect. I could do a series of posts on “What kind of wife not to be”. Those would be easy, I had years of experience at it.

This post written 3 years ago gives you a glimpse of our life in the early years. A very condensed version, I must say. Sometimes we have to remind ourselves and others where we’ve been in order to fully understand the blessing of where we are in the present. Welcome to my imperfectly, perfect life.

Sunday, February 8, 2009

Counting Blessings Even In Our Failures

When WB and I had Em, our first born, she came into the world in crisis. I would spend a week in the hospital, which was an hour from our home, with her before we could go home. WB visited us when he could, but it was mostly my mom and I that stayed with her that first week. Then I had to have major surgery in Houston when she was just four months old. Again, my mom and I would take care of her while WB remained back at home working for most of the time. It was no wonder that bonding was difficult at times for WB and Em. Even though she looked just like him and resembles him in many personality traits. The road was a difficult one to say the least. Being a new parent is like being thrown overboard without a life preserver...sink or swim. Many days you do both!

WB was having a difficult time in many ways. He'd gained 40 lbs since we started dating, he had a job that was thankless most of the time and stressful to say the least. I'm sure the signs were there that he wasn't happy, but I was too busy to see. I was a new mom. Breastfeeding what seemed like 24/7 , not sleeping, not thinking my husband might need my attention as well, and adjusting to staying at home while all of my friends went off to work each day. Family was far away and we rarely, if ever, had a babysitter or went out without our daughter. Life wasn't exactly picture perfect, but at the same time it wasn't the end of the world either.

Then came our second child, I knew things would be different. It wasn't that WB was a bad father, it was more like he just needed more time and more practice. Unfortunately, our second came about the time his work situation was at it's melting point. He was laid off, things looked dismal. But at your darkest moments your faith seems to shine the brightest.

The same company that laid him off hired him back for consulting on a project. So now we not only collected severance pay, but also his consulting fees. We still had insurance and benefits and a little bit of the weight was lifted off our shoulders. We suffered through the whole finding a job and interviewing process. Had our hopes dashed a few times and then WB was offered a job. A job a half an hour away (no moving) and with a company that was thriving.

WB loved his new job. People listened to his ideas, asked him for input, and LISTENED. Something that had been severely lacking in his last job. He started exercising, eating better, and slowly began to shed those 40 lbs. We had our set backs, but we managed to weather the storm. The girls left their baby stages and WB had more time to concentrate and be comfortable in his fatherly skin. I learned to relax, not be so critical, and listen to that inner voice. I learned to sift out some of the other voices. The ones that might mean well, but didn't live in your marriage day to day. WB blossomed into fatherhood and I into our marriage.

Life was good. WB loved his job and began to move up the career ladder. The company he used to work for slowly began to fold and now 5 years later is no longer running the plant he worked at. Blessings, yes. We were bestowed many blessings, even though at the time they felt more like punishments.

So when I learned I was pregnant with my third child, I cried. I asked God if he was serious, three pregnancy tests later told me he was. I wasn't prepared, I had things to do, and I was not ready to start over. I was trying to finish a novel for heavens sake, on top of being a director of a school that had some major issues!! I cried to my sister like a big baby. I struggled with the gift I knew I had been given, but pouted with the timing never less. I dreaded telling WB. We weren't expecting this right now. In fact, I had cried months earlier over the fact I may never be able to get pregnant again. So I had moved on, told myself to suck it up, it just wasn't in the cards. I made other plans.

I told WB over the phone. I was in Houston and he was at home. I held my breath and listened as he said, "No way...Really. That is so wonderful." Really, even though it wasn't planned. He reminded me none of them really were and this would be great. I'd like to say it was all happy times from there but it wasn't. It was a difficult pregnancy, we moved an hour away to a new house. A fixer upper at that. WB buried himself in projects to prepare for the new arrival and for the whole family. I tried not to be miserable and to enjoy each day. Some days I was a huge success, others a terrible failure.

Blessings, they sort of sneak up on you. I sit today and watch my 22 month old as she holds her big sisters hands as they walk around the yard and my heart melts. I smile when her daddy lifts her up each night as she rushes to greet him at the door. I see the ease into which he handles all three of his children, an ease I have to admit I wasn't sure would ever be possible. He is an awesome dad. And I have become a much better wife.

God has blessed us in so many ways. Many of which I probably am not even aware of. He gave us everything we needed, He put people in our lives that have taught us so much. He steered us through the toughest of times. One of the biggest lessons I have learned is that even in our failures there are blessings.

So as I sit here today I am overwhelmed when I start counting my blessings. They are many. So are my failures. But thank God He has found a way to lift us up even when we fall flat on our faces!!

**********************************************************

How we’ve all grown in just 3 years!

When you look back at your life do you tend to see only the good things, only the bad, or do you find a way to focus on both?

The Conflicted Chef–Not Your Momma’s Spaghetti

2012-01-27T07:37:00.001-06:00

So WB declared a few weeks ago that he’d like to try to cut out as much pasta from his diet as possible, as he leads up to his first half marathon. A few pounds gained during the holiday season has him determined to get back to his optimum training weight. Hmm, yes I understand, but pasta around here is served quite often. Spaghetti and meatballs is a quick and favorite meal.

Soon after this discussion I found myself speeding through the aisles of the grocery store, stopping at every sample table to appease my 4 year olds desire to try everything the sweet grey haired ladies had to offer. Imagine my delight when one was serving up Spaghetti squash. I hadn’t eaten that in years. But it brought back memories of my mom serving stuffed Acorn squash with a sausage filling. Yum.

My 4 year old devoured the sample. That is always a good sign. So the girls and I bought a Spaghetti squash and we tweaked the grocery’s recipe a little and here is what we had:

Spaghetti Squash with Sausage and Greens

About a 2 lb. spaghetti squash

Cut squash in half, lengthwise. Scrape away the seeds and stringy stuff from the centers with a spoon. Place halves in a pan and cook in the oven at 350 for about 30 minutes. You can speed up this process by placing it in a microwave-safe dish with the cut sides down. Cover with plastic wrap and microwave for 7 to 10 minutes or until tender. My grandmother didn’t own a microwave, and so when I have time I prefer not to use mine for cooking. Just part of the whole conflicted thing.

While the squash is cooking you will need some low calorie sausage to cook up. You can get turkey sausage, light pork sausage, or chicken sausage. Just find something you like, but that has less fat and sodium then the regular variety. I found some chicken/spinach sausages at the meat counter that looked good, so that is what I used.

1 pound low-fat pork, turkey, or chicken sausage

Cook in skillet until no longer pink and set aside in a bowl.

1 bag or 9 oz. of fresh spinach

Place in the skillet in batches and cook down until it’s just wilted. This will only take 30 to 60 seconds. The wilting of the spinach is a fun trick and impresses small children, so gather them around. Place in bowl with the sausage and stir.

When the squash comes out of the oven it will look like the one on the left. Take a fork and gently scrape it along the surface and it will magically begin to shred and look just like spaghetti. Notice the shredded one on the right. This my friends is an “ohhh, ahhhh” moment. Gather the kiddos around again and let them help (be careful of the hot pan). I’m telling you it never fails to amaze.

After you have the squash all spaghetti- like put it into a bowl and add:

1 TBSP Olive Oil
1/3 cup Parmesan cheese (remember the cheese rule, it is okay to eliminate to save some calories, but this is really not that much cheese so I say go for it.)
sprinkle of salt and pepper

Place a heaping mound onto a plate. Add some of the meat and greens. And there you have it! And if you’re my husband you add a glass of wine, which must be a part of the training regimen.

“But Momma, where is the sauce?” You, might hear this from a little voice at the end of the table. By all means, add a little spaghetti sauce to the meat mixture if you desire. Eliminate the spinach and add a side salad instead. That’s what I love about cooking. One time we might serve it like this, and next time we’ll use different sausage, add some sauce and try it like that. It’s your creation, experiment and have fun.

This dish received 5 smiles. (I decided thumbs up was too overused)

Have you tried Spaghetti squash? Do you have a favorite way to serve it?

Confessions, Kilts, Ghosts, Sleep- Blog Mash-Up Time!

2012-01-25T14:04:00.001-06:00

First of all I have a confession. Okay, I find myself saying that a lot. I blame that on the fact that I am Catholic. Forgive me Father, but I am WAY too wordy. I have a hard time telling a short story. I have an equally difficult time editing my words, each one is so precious. But you know the saying “sometimes less is more”, I need to practice that a little more often. That’s why Coleen’s post hit home. I dare you to head over to her blog and just see if you can sum it all up in 6 words. 6 little words people! I was amazed at what an long story just 6 words can tell.

Have you ever thought of trademarking yourself? Well, to be honest I haven’t really given it much thought until today. But I began to think I might be a little irritated if someone else began calling themselves Eskimo Kisses and Air Hugs. I mean, who else would do that? But someone might try to steal it and it would be a whole new kind of identity theft . It would be my online identity and that wouldn’t be good. I was happy to read there is a way to prevent this on Jeannie’s blog. She’ll give you the low down on how she did it.

I recently just finished a book about ghosts I found from the author of this blog.. I’m not normally a paranormal kinda gal, but these ghosts hailed from Scotland over 700 years ago. I’ve got to tell you if my hero isn’t a cowboy, it’s a Highland Warrior. Stetsons or kilts, doesn’t matter they both work for me. So when I stumbled across this link from Mike’s blog about Ghost reviewers it grabbed my attention. Sadly, no kilts are involved in this post, but he does bring to light how some book reviews may not all be on the up and up. Something to think about as we read reviews and allow them to influence whether or not we buy the book.

I know that my eldest daughter’s birthday is just around the corner when the Oscar nominations are announced. We keep saying we’re going to throw her a red carpet birthday celebration since her birthday is always near the Oscar ceremony. This year one of my favorite actresses is up for an Oscar, again. And she starred in a movie my girls and I love to watch and then go around the house for days singing, “I work all night, I work all day To pay the bills I have to pay Ain't it sad?”… Fabio blogs about this favorite actress and all her nominations on his blog today. You should check it out.

It’s been a rainy day here today and really I just want to get under the covers, read, do some writing and dream so my Highland ghost can pay me a visit. Thanks Ginger for posting about sleep, dreaming, creativity and the such today. Now I won’t feel getting for getting some much needed sleep.

I’d love to hear what you have to say about any of these topics, especially the Stetson vs kilt question. And if you are a man, which would you rather wear?

The Conflicted Chef- Eggs Please

2012-01-20T08:25:00.001-06:00

Here we go, the first actual posting in my Conflicted Chef series. If you missed the introduction to this series you can reread last weeks post here. Basically, I’m cooking for a family of 5, trying to keep it as healthy as possible, yummy, and meet the needs of everyone in my family. I find myself cooking meals that my southern grandmother would be proud of (wearing pearls and my mother’s beautiful handmade apron) and ones that I whip up while still wearing my running shoes and heart monitor. That’s where the conflicted part comes in.

That’s the nifty blog badge my husband made for this series. Thanks hon! And that beautiful apron, my Momma made that. I wish I could channel her sewing abilities more, but that’s another story. And yes, every morning this is what I look like while cooking. You don’t doubt that do you?

Anyway, this week I decided to start at the beginning. Breakfast. In my house on the weekends breakfast is a big deal because everyone is home. Recently I’ve been in the kitchen pondering what healthy, happy food I can make while waiting for my husband to come in from his run or bike ride. But, I’m usually trying to catch up on some writing or reading too, so if I can make something fairly quick that’s a plus.

Eggs. Quick, easy, and healthy. They are, I promise. Awhile back eggs were getting a bad wrap. But here’s the low down, if you don’t eat fried eggs every morning for breakfast you shouldn’t have a problem. I’m going to hit you with one of my favorite phrases, “everything is good as long as it is in moderation”. I even checked with my little sister, I’ll be doing a lot of that in this series. Her resume reads like this: registered dietician, fitness trainer, personal chef, and triathlete.

Enough, what did I make? Muffin Omelets! Quick, easy, and yummy. I was inspired by this recipe. Of course, when I went to my fridge I didn’t have all the ingredients. Another confliction, do I go to the store for the fifth time this week or make do with what I have. You already know the answer to that, right? So here’s what I put in my Muffin Omelets this time.

5 eggs
1 1/2 TBSP egg whites ( I used organic egg whites in a carton that you can find at the store by the real eggs)
1 cup 1% milk
pinch of salt and pepper

Put that all in a bowl and whisk it up.

Next get out

8 oz of lean pork sausage ( I love turkey sausage, but pork is what I had this time)

and cook in a skillet until you see no more pink. Remove and set in a bowl to cool.

Next you chop up:

1/2 red bell pepper
1/4 of a large onion.

Throw that in the skillet with a splash of olive oil and sauté until soft, a couple of minutes. Add the pepper and onion to the sausage bowl.

Spray a muffin pan with cooking spray. I used about 1/4 cup of egg mixture per tin, Just make sure they are all about even so they cook at the same time. Then add a spoonful of the sausage mixture to each egg filled tin. At this point you can sprinkle a little low-fat cheese on top of each tin. Here’s a tip from my little sis, “If you don’t need the cheese, don’t add it.” There is plenty of flavor going on here so you don’t have to have it, on the other hand a little sprinkle isn’t going to put you over the edge either. Remember, moderation.

Okay, pop them in a preheated 325 degree oven and bake for about 22 –25 minutes. When a toothpick comes out clean they are done. Place on a cool rack and let them cool before you flip them out.

For breakfast we serve with a fruit salad. But last night we made them for dinner and served with a side salad.

Em plated it up for me, she’s very artistic, while hubby took the pic.

This dish gets 4 out of 5 thumbs up. My Little One can not stand the smell of eggs. So she had salad and left over noodles. Next week I’ll try for that all elusive 5 thumbs!

*you can make a whole bunch of these and freeze. Just pop in the microwave to heat up.

Will your kids eat eggs? What healthy ingredients would you put in your omelet?

Meditative Monday–Some Blogs That Inspire

2012-01-16T08:10:00.001-06:00

Monday. First day of a new week. If I wake up on the wrong side of the bed, or hurried, or upset, my whole week will be thrown off. I need Monday mornings to be a time of calm. I need to start the week with a list of goals and be excited about the prospects of getting it all done. The less stress the better. Monday, is my day of planning for the school week ahead. It is our day of errands, swim lessons, and horseback riding. It is the perfect day for me to reflect and take deep calming breaths.

This Monday, I wanted to bring you some of my favorite blogs that I love to start the day with. These blogs inspire, motivate, and start my Monday’s off on the right track.

I’ve been following Wendy’s blog for awhile. She is an amazing writer, but more then that she is an amazing person. Her thoughts so often fall right into step with my own. She lifts me up with her words when I’ve needed it the most and she gets me to thinking. This Monday is a word tribute to being Free, right in time for MLK day celebration.

When I need a little pick-me-up on the writing front I head over to author Jody’s blog. She inspires me that it is possible to homeschool your children and write. Not just write, but be a published author with two books out and more on the way. I remember when her first book came out, it made me realize with hard work anything is possible. She also shares wonderful tips and advice on the whole publishing industry.

I recently took a class offered by Kristen Lamb, that has exposed to so many wonderful writers. I’m still getting to know and explore all their blogs, but I’d like to mention two today.

I took to Myndi’s blog right away. She has humor, but she can be serious. She is a writer, yet she homeschools. Another one of those that makes me realize, it is possible.

And August’s blog is full of inspirational posts. Her writing is beautiful and she inspires you to make the most out of your life.

I need lots of inspiration for my writing, but I need it for my homeschooling as well. Lacy, inspires me to get creative and do all sorts of fun things with my preschooler and her big sisters too. She has given me fun and educational ways to incorporate our faith into our homeschool days.

Whenever I feel overwhelmed with my family of 5 and think I just can’t do all that is on my plate I head over to Connie’s blog, my former neighbor and friend. She never ceases to amaze me as she raises her beautiful family, which includes 8 children, a great hubby, and a growing cast of animals.

And last, but certainly not least my hubby’s photography blog. He is an amazing photographer. This is one of the things he does for fun, but he does it so well. Many of my posts are inspired by one of his pictures. When I have writer’s block I find myself scanning through his photographs and an idea always comes to me as to what I can write about. Best part is, I get to use his pictures for free. Fringe benefits, love them.

Okay, I have many more. But I don’t want to overload you. I’ll save them for another Monday. I hope you enjoy checking out these new blogs and Happy Monday!

A Chef Conflicted

2012-01-13T08:23:00.003-06:00

Okay, I’m not a chef, but I am a mom that feeds a family of 5 so that is close enough. I love to cook. I love to be in the kitchen with my family working along side of me. And for me cooking is love, it’s not just my chance to fill the bellies of my family, but to put a smile on their face. Our time together around the kitchen table is precious. Stories of the days events are being told, we are sharing laughter, and memories are being made. Eating at my house is an event.

So where does the conflicted part come in? I’ll tell you. I can’t just serve my family any old food anymore. I have to consider the needs of all my family members. Granted, we are lucky. We have no food allergies to date, or intolerances, but each member of my family comes to the table with their own appetite. Here’s a quick run down:

Em- aspiring chef. Every meal is a reenactment of the Iron Chef. Prepare to undergo a detailed account of what works and what doesn’t for the dish being served. (always in a nice way, mind you). She is an accomplished cook at the age of 11 (I'm talking Julia Child) and makes many of our meals.

Soph- semi-vegetarian. Her love of animals and her belief that all of God’s creatures should enjoy a good life, no matter how short or long, has encouraged her to become an advocate of free-range, pasture raised animals. If the meat on the table doesn’t meet that criteria, she will pass on it.

Little One- Not a huge fan of fancy. She prefers her meat on one side her veggies on the other without the impediment of sauces or too much spices. Lover of salads and uncooked veggies. Not a fan of the “mushy” vegetables that sometime appear on her plate.

WB- not your typical male (we’ve already established that in previous posts though, right?) More often then not in training for the next half-marathon, 150 mile bike ride, or triathlon. Food is fuel, but being a fine cook himself, he has a delectable palate. He is looking for meals that contain all the nutrients he needs, but that won’t add inches to his middle and taste good.

Me- conflicted chef. Most days I channel my grandmother’s and mothers down home southern cooking, which is at odds with my need to put healthy, sustainable food on the table. I find myself cooking meals that my grandmother would be proud of (wearing pearls and my mother’s beautiful handmade apron) and ones that I whip up while still wearing my running shoes and heart monitor. (I’m currently trying to get this, almost 40 year old, body back into fighting shape. Wait, it is questionable if it was ever in fighting shape…okay, I’m just trying to see my waistline and abs again and be able to run.)

Which brings me to an announcement of sorts, are you ready for it? I’m going to start a new weekly series to appear each Friday (God willing) about my family’s adventures in the kitchen. We’ll explore old recipes, some with a new twist, and we’ll be trying new healthy recipes. And I'm hoping you'll chime in with advice and recipes of your own!

I seek balance. I seek inner peace. I seek full, happy bellies around my table. Tune in next Friday to see if we're acomplishing this.

What is it like around your kitchen table? Are you ever conflicted ?

It’s Not About Me

2012-01-11T08:22:00.003-06:00

One of the mantras I have adopted for this new year is “It’s not about me”. My mom and I were having a conversation around the first of this year and she was recalling a homily the priest at her church had given. She spoke these words and I immediately latched onto them. It was just what I need to be reminded of, just what I needed to hear at that moment. Moms are good that way.

How many times do we plow through life and our sole focus is on ourselves? We become consumed with someone’s rude remark towards us. We worry that we aren’t getting all the “things” we deserve and then moan and complain to anyone who will listen. We’re jealous when someone else succeeds in an area we are desperately trying to master. We find ourselves upset when we don’t get all the credit we think we deserve. Me, Me, Me.

It’s so easy to forget, or maybe just ignore, but this life isn’t about us. Crazy concept, huh? It’s taken me almost 40 years to realize that my faith tells me that we are just one person in a huge family, or if you like sports like I do, part of team.

Think about it, what do we really accomplish alone? In our professional life we have a team of people that lift us up, get us through, and support us. My writing friends are amazing this way. Everyday they get online to help, guide, or encourage other writers. Writers that are hoping to sell books, writers whose novel might sit right next to yours on a shelf. Doesn’t matter to the writing family, because they know that for individual success they need to support the group as a whole first. And if their book sells more then yours, it’s okay because their success becomes yours. You are a team.

Which brings me to the move Miracle, about the 1980 USA Olympic hockey team. In one part of the movie Coach Brooks is fed up with his players. Their focus is not on working together as a team, but rather on themselves. My favorite line is when Coach tells his players:

“When you pull on that jersey you represent yourself and your teammates. And the name on the front is a hell of a lot more important than the one on the back!”

I play on a lot of teams, writing team, friend team, my family team to name just a few. But my all encompassing team is my Faith Team. My jersey reads Flathouse on the back and God on the front. Yep, my team is God’s team and I’m not talking about the Dallas Cowboys. I play for the man upstairs, and my teammates are all of God’s children. We’re a pretty impressive team, especially when we work together and remember we’re not the only player on it.

And when we forget, maybe we need to be put through this little reminder drill.

And the homily that inspired this post can be found here.

Have you seen the movie Miracle? What would your jersey say?

Princess Bride And The Marcarena

2012-01-04T08:17:00.003-06:00

I wasn’t exactly a Princess Bride fifteen years ago today, but I felt pretty close to it. I didn’t have hoards of people at my wedding, or walk down the aisle of a huge Cathedral, or wear a designer dress.But, I did have all my family and close friends around me, a sweet old church that my husband and I attended while in college, and a beautiful dress. That was princess enough for me.

He couldn't believe it. "Do I love you? My God, if your love were a grain of sand, mine would be a universe of beaches! If your love were -"
"I don't understand that first one yet," Buttercup interrupted. She was starting to get very excited now. "Let me get this straight. Are you saying my love is a grain of sand and yours is this other thing? Images confuse me so - is this universal business of yours bigger than my sand? Help me, Westley. I have the feeling we're on the verge of something just terribly important." –Princess Bride

Pretty much how I felt walking down the aisle. That we were on the verge of something terribly important, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it yet. Not to mention that my husband is always giving me great explanations about something and I always have to ask him to, “please slow down, I’m still processing your first thought”. He seems to always be a few steps ahead of me. And as he waited for me at the end of the aisle his face told me he knew the importance of this day. He got it. Either that or he was grimacing because I managed to cry my way down the entire length of the church. I’m not a crier, really. I have no idea what came over me.

“This is true love... you think this happens everyday?”

Nope, it doesn’t. I know now, years later, that true love is a gift. It’s a gift you give someone and if you’re lucky they return it. I have no doubt it’s a blessing from above. It’s a gift you have to treasure, treat with respect, and realize the newness of the gift may wear off over time, but it’s still a gift to be cherished.

“Mawwage is what bwings us togwether today....”

Marriage brought my husband and I together 15 years ago today, but love, understanding, forgiveness, compromise, and faith is what have kept us together. Being a Princess Bride is only for a day, feeling like a princess in your marriage, well, that’s a lifetime of work.
So happy anniversary to my sweet WB. Thanks for making me feel like a princess on most days, and reminding me I’m not on others, ha. Like at our reception when we busted out doing the Marcarena. Pretty sure that’s not a princess- y thing to do.

Any favorite quotes from the Princess Bride you’d like to share? It’s one of my favorites!

Sunsets, Clawfoot tubs, and Cowboys

2012-01-02T06:30:00.001-06:00

This is an old clawfoot tub that my husband’s parents brought back from the homestead and refurbished for their guest bathroom.

Note:I love sinking into a deep clawfoot tub filled with bubbles. They are much better then those modern Jacuzzi things.

This is a picture of our old backyard. Well, actually, this windmill sits on top of the canyon that ran along the back of our property.

Note: I adore sunsets and sunrises in the Panhandle of Texas. The sky stretches as far as you can see and the light, well, it’s like a window into heaven.

This is WB. He’s a Texas man, tough and smart as a whip. And he makes killer chocolate desserts.

Note: I love this man with all my heart. He is my always and forever.

Now, if you could drop that clawfoot tub down there beside that windmill for me. That’s it, thank you. Oh,while you’re at it if you’ll hand my WB a tall glass of Hefeweizen with a squeeze of lemon in one hand and a bottle of bubbles, bath bubbles that is, for the other. One more thing if you will, we’ll need a couple of horses for the return trip please. Wonderful, thank you.

Now, I’ll just sink down into those bubbles, while my hubby tends to the horses and scares away any coyotes. And I’ll lift my glass and wish you all a Happy New Year. One filled with all the the things dreams are made of.

What are your dreams for 2012? And if they involve cowboys or bubble baths do tell!

The Grinch Kicked The Elf Off The Shelf

2011-12-23T12:59:00.000-06:00

Everyone seems to have an Elf that hides somewhere on a shelf, watching over the children at Christmas and reminding them that they are being watched. "You better behave. It's almost Christmas and the Elf is watching." I'm sure it works in most households. There are two thoughts that ran through my head when watching the Elf on a Shelf frenzy. One, who is the marketing genius behind this little pointy eared doll that has people paying 29.99 to threaten their children with good behavior, and two, would it work in my house? I don't have the answer to the first question, but I got my answer a few weeks ago to the second.

My four year old daughter got glimpse of an Elf on a shelf in a store.

Pointing, "What's that doll with the pointy ears?"

"That's an Elf", I replied.

"Oh, why is he way up there on the shelf and not at the North Pole with Santa?"

"Um, well," I realized this was my shot to put the Elf on the Shelf idea to work. "He's here to watch and make sure you are being good. If you're not, he'll report back to Santa." I watch closely for a reaction on her sweet chunky face.

"But it's a doll."

Okay, time to change tactics. "Maybe it is just there to remind you that Santa is watching and you need to behave."

"Oh, well that's creepy." She makes a face at the doll and quickly turns her back to it.

Creepy, not exactly the message I believe the creators of Elf on a Shelf were going for. Which got me to thinking what do I want my children to remember at Christmas time beside the birth of Jesus? I realized I didn't have any desire to have them behave only because "Santa is watching" or "You don't want to be put on the naughty list". But believe me, I've used both of those phrases many times in my 12 years of being a parent. I'm trying to evolve a little in my parenting skills as I get older. I want them to embrace the spirit of Christmas, for them to enjoy giving and celebrating this beautiful season in which God gave us His only Son. I want them to realize that gifts and Santa, and Christmas decorations are just part of the celebration, but that there is much more.

For children, a little reminder each day helps them. Which is why Elf On A Shelf, I believe is so popular. It is an easy thing to point to and say "Remember". But, I already realized the creepy Elf was not going to cut it at my house. But I knew who would. Someone whom they recognized. Someone that they knew was naughty at times and made mistakes, but that in the end realized what Christmas was truly all about.

And so Grinch On A Bench has been born. He reminds us not only of what not to be, but also of how we should be. Of what the Christmas spirit is. And remarkably, this is not creepy to my 4 year old daughter at all, but she's a lot like Cindy Lou Who. Aren't most children?

So Merry Christmas to you all and may the spirit of Christmas reside in your heart for always.

PS. My quote from Wednesday's post was from Truman Capote's Christmas Memory. If you have never read it I highly recommend it!

Favorite Christmas Book Quotes

2011-12-21T07:32:00.001-06:00

(if you click on the picture you will have a coloring page to print out, that’s the teacher in me coming out!)

And the Grinch, with his Grinch-feet ice cold in the snow, stood puzzling and puzzling, how could it be so? It came without ribbons. It came without tags. It came without packages, boxes or bags. And he puzzled and puzzled 'till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before. What if Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store? What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more?

I have many favorite Christmas stories that I remember reading or being read to as a child. I love Dr. Seuss. My mom read his books to me as a young child, I wobbled through them as I began to read, and now as an adult many days I wake up and need to read one of his many important and simple statements to get me through the morning. The above quote was from his book How The Grinch Stole Christmas, but you probably already knew that.

Another favorite story I read in school, probably when I was in 6th grade. This story would stick with me for years. I would forget who authored it, until years later during a college literature class. Then I would read this authors work, read about his childhood and read about his adult life. I remember being in awe of such an amazing literary figure, while mourning the tragedies this author faced in his life. I reread his Christmas story as an adult, and realized that the tragedy and sadness were there, even as a child, but he had managed to overcome it and find happiness. Something I don’t think he was able to do as an adult. The last line of the story alludes to this sadness, but there was still a sense of hope:

"And when that happens, I know it. A message saying so merely confirms a piece of news some secret vein had already received, severing me from an irreplaceable part of myself, letting it loose like a kite string. That is why, walking across a school campus on this particular December morning, I keep searching the sky. As if I expected to see, rather like hearts, a lost pair of kites hurrying towards heaven."

Can you guess this favorite Christmas story and author? If no one gets it I’ll share on Friday, but I bet you all know. What are some of your favorite Christmas stories?

Dear 17 Year Old Me, You Are A Late Bloomer And It’s Okay

2011-12-14T12:48:00.001-06:00

You know that song by Brad Paisley, Letter to Me? He talks about sending a letter to his 17 year old self where he gives advice and tries to guide him on the ways of the world. I love that song, mostly because I’ve often thought, “If I could tell my teenage self what I know now, life could have been so much easier.”

Dear 17 year old me,

It’s your Senior year, have fun, but keep working hard. You’re going to need some discipline to get through your first year of college. That darn Algebra II is going to haunt you for years to come.
When you go for your Senior pictures, dump the frumpy frock and the serious face, and while you’re at it the huge bangs. Yeah, it’s the style, but in 10 years when it is on your name badge at your high school reunion you will thank me.

That guy you’ve had a crush on forever, he’s a good guy. Many years later you’ll see each other, you’ll talk, you’ll be friends, and you’ll realize that you never really wanted to date him. He was a nice distraction, so don’t waste time pining away after him. There is plenty else to be done with your time!

Some day soon you are going to meet the guy that finally believes your freckles are sexy, not cute. Do me a favor, believe him the first time he tells you that and don’t keep doubting it for say half a dozen years.
In the meantime, you are going to meet some duds. Some will treat you terrible, others will put you up on a pedestal so high you are in constant fear of toppling off. I wish I could tell you to skip over them. Don’t. But I can tell you you will survive. The hurt will be worth it, trust me.

The close friends you make in high school, you all will go separate ways, then reunite, then get busy with life. But the good news is they will always be there for you, they are never too far away. You will catch up on the phone or text or Facebook. You don’t know about texting or Facebooking yet and I don’t want to give anything away. Just remember that, okay?

Hug your family and tell them how much you love them, especially your Nano and Dado. Some day you’ll be really far away from them and some day some of them will be gone. You thought you had forever, but forever wasn’t nearly long enough.

Your best friend, she’s going to need you like never before. Stay strong, but don’t be afraid. Have faith, faith in God’s plan and don’t try to make things better when you can’t. Just be there and know that is enough.

Don’t let the “it” girls define you. You know those few who continue to look down their noses at you, squint and say “What’s your name again?” Even though you’ve been going to school and sitting by them in class for the last 4 years. Their mission seems to be humiliation and even though you’re tough, it hurts. Let me tell you something. In ten years you will see them some will have gained 30 pounds and are single. You’ll be sitting next to your hunky husband with a precious 6 month old waiting for you at home. They’ll still ignore you, but you won’t care in the least.

And lastly, here’s the thing, you are a late bloomer. A really late bloomer, and it’s okay. I know you think that your 17 year old self is all you’ve got, but you’re wrong. You’ll bloom, it’s just going to take a few years. You’re going to get comfortable in your skin and then watch out world. Really, you will. The thing is, in order for you to bloom you have to grow, and right now you still have a lot of growing to do.
Keep laughing and being protective of the ones you love. Keep sighing over that crush from a distance. Keep going to all those football and basketball games and cheering from the bleachers with your friends. Your best years are yet to come. But being 17, you never get that back. Make great memories and enjoy life. It seems to fly by!
Love,
Your 39 year old self

What would you tell your 17 year old self?

When The Holiday Crush Leaves You Smooshed

2011-12-07T07:40:00.001-06:00

I really do love this time of year. Really. The hustle and bustle of all the Christmas activities, not to mention my husband and I both celebrate a birthday during December. Mine at the beginning, his at the end. It’s a month of celebrations. It’s a month of joyous reflections.

There is always a frenzy of activities going on in our kitchen as we spend hours baking bourbon balls, toffee, Mexican Wedding cookies and Lebkuchen. Powdered sugar and smears of chocolate can be found from countertop to ceiling to the tip of my 4 year olds nose. But, we hurry to clean it all up so we can race to one of the many holiday parties our treats are needed for.

Later, we find ourselves scouring the wish lists of our loved ones as we set out on a shopping expedition. We get crushed in the crowds of others, all looking for that elusive gift. We rush home to yards of wrapping paper and make pretty crooked Christmas bows. Some get boxed up and sent to the post office, at the last moment, to wait in the incredibly long line of other procrastinators. The holiday cheer is usually felt in abundance in these long lines of people juggling packages and tired children.

At home are tangled Christmas lights, a tree struggling with the weight of all the ornaments the sweet 4 year old has hung on one branch, and a fireplace that is undergoing a remodel. A remodel that stretches to my sunrooms floor. Ahh, the spirit of Christmas.

It is a month of anticipation. A month of glad tidings. It is a month that will leave you feeling smooshed under the weight of all that holiday cheer if you’re not careful.

You need to remember to just sit in front of a roaring fire and put your feet up. Listen to your favorite holiday music, or better yet snuggle down with a good story. Which I did by the way, yesterday in fact, while the boxes of unpacked Christmas décor waited nearby. It gave me all those warm fuzzies the Christmas season is supposed to leave you with. It inflated my smooshed spirit. And thanks to my friend, Emily Ann Benedict, you can download her story as well, for free! It’s titled Father Christmas. Do yourself a favor and give yourself a treat. Cozy up to the fire with this heart warming tale, that is sure to put the Christmas spirit back into your tired, worn out body.

Download here to inflate your sagging Christmas energy.

What do you do to help keep your holiday spirit from sagging?

Johnny Cash And Thanksgiving Blessings

2011-11-23T07:19:00.002-06:00

Most of us will be giving thanks tomorrow for the many blessings in our lives as we sit around the table with family. I’m blessed to be sitting at that table with my whole family. My Dad and sister will be among the many gathered. Growing up my Dad would blast music, usually country, from the kitchen radio as we cooked and prepared our meal. We’d use spoons as microphones and when my Dad belted out the latest Johnny Cash song, my sister and I would add the background vocals as we danced around. My mom could cook through anything, even our crazy antics. She’d smile and laugh at us and never once tell us we were too loud or silly. I have great memories of being in the kitchen with family, and of listening to Johnny Cash. So I thought it was appropriate to share this video as I wish everyone a Happy and Blessed Thanksgiving.

Prince Charming Is Not Dead, Just Hiding Under Some Warty Skin

2011-11-16T08:59:00.001-06:00

Happily Ever After. The words made me swoon every time as a child. I loved any story that started with Once upon a time, and ended with Happily ever after. Handsome royalty swept in to save the day on white horses and toads turned to princes with a kiss. My mom would see the glazed look I got in my eye after reading one of these stories and she would tell me, “You know, love is not like that”. But I pushed those words away and went off in search of my prince.

First, I need to let you in on a secret. I’ve kissed a few toads, and after waiting for way too long, I realized they were really just toads. That’s okay, because they informed me I was no princess. Guess, it wasn’t meant to be.

I’m going to skip to the end of my story and tell you I found my prince. I didn’t want to keep you in suspense. I couldn’t’ do that, I’m a romance writer. I came to realize, finally, that Prince Charming is not dead, but just hiding under some warty skin. I also came to realize that I really am not the perfect princess either. So a flawed princess and a warty Prince Charming seem to be the perfect match in my book.

Having said all that I’d like to share a few toad kissing tips I learned along the way. If you’re still searching you might find them helpful.

Tip 1- When finding toads look in places that interest you. The toad at the bottom of the dumpster might not be your cup of tea, try the library instead.

Tip 2- If you find your toad sticks around even when say, you’re looking like the wicked witch of the west, he deserves a chance at a kiss.

Tip 3- If you find yourself talking non-stop about anything and everything to your toad and he doesn’t hop away, again, probably a keeper.

Tip 4- If your toad has the ability to catch his own flies and isn’t still residing in the dugout of his parents, this bodes well for the ability of this toad to turn into a prince.

Tip 5- If your toad is always up in your face trying to convince you what a great catch he is, he probably is, for a toad.

Tip 6- If you ever find a toad that tries to cover up his warts, keep on walking. You want a toad that can admit he has a few warts, don’t we all?

The bottom line is this, none of us are perfect and there is no perfect love. But we all deserve to be swept off our feet, just realize the person doing the sweeping isn’t some perfect Prince Charming. He’s just some guy, trying really hard to make you happy. To love you the best way he knows how. And sometimes he’ll turn back into that toad for brief moments. The true test is, does he remain a toad or with a sweet kiss does he become that prince again?

As a writer I try to make sure my hero has some warts, and my heroine some flaws. I’d like to think of my stories as “almost happily ever after”, because sometimes love isn’t all happy moments. And, really, wouldn’t we get bored if it were?

Love Conquers All Things, Even The Porta Potty

2011-11-14T08:48:00.003-06:00

I’m training for the MS 150 bike ride from Houston to Austin. I’ve decided it will be a bonding experience for my husband and I. He has done it twice already, while I stood on the side-lines and cheered him on. This time I want to take part. I think it will make us stronger as a couple. We will face the challenges of the ride together and our love will blossom even more. That and I want the darn t-shirt that tells the world I did it!
I am completely unfazed that I haven’t really ridden a bike in 12 years. Doesn’t matter that I don’t even have a road bike yet to ride on. I’m not sure I can ride a mile, much less 150 miles. I’m pretty sure I am very out of shape, no I know, I am out of shape. The fact that I will have to “clip in” (bike shoes that clip onto your pedal) scares me to death. All of that I can overcome, if I set my mind to it. But that dang porta potty, that coffin of human waste, I’m not sure I can overcome that.

I have anxiety about small spaces. Not a phobia, so much as a strong dislike. Porta potties are small, usually hot and dark, which exasperates the problem. I’m also a very visual person. I see an image and it pastes itself into my minds eye forever. So as I hover over the hole of other peoples sewage, people I don’t even know, I invariably get a view I’d care never to see. That picture is now forever in my head and will pop up at the most inopportune times, like when I’m sitting down to eat a filet mignon with creamy mashed potatoes and some chocolate cake for dessert. You get the idea, right?

Not to mention the smell. Why would anyone willingly walk into a hot shoebox of a space that smells like the feed lots of Dalhart, Texas. At least the feed lots are the “smell of money”, porta potties do not have such a distinction. They just stink and they make me gag. It doesn’t help that for us females our anatomy requires us to spend more intimate time with the porta potty, no quickies there. And one last thing. Why on earth would you design a toilet in such a small space where the urinal is right at nose level with the actual toilet space? Do I have to look at that while I’m trying my hardest not throw up as it is?

I’ll be making sure I drink lots and lots of fluids so I don’t get dehydrated and fall off my bike. And we all know what happens when we drink lots of fluids. So for every training ride leading up to the 150 mile ride and for the ride itself the only choice I will have for a bathroom break will be the porta potty. I won’t be able to just hold it or wait for a big tree to squat behind. I will have to face the dreaded porta potty. And honestly, for 38 years I have avoided all events that required me to use a porta potty and so this is huge. This is how much I love my husband. I love him so much that I will face my nemesis. I will stare down the porta potty and I will survive. All in the name of love.

Have you done something amazing for love? But more importantly, can you use a porta potty without gagging? Because if you can I’d like some tips on how to do it.

When A Soldier Is Wounded…

2011-11-09T07:47:00.002-06:00

I try to imagine what it would be like to send my husband off to work and know that while he is away he will be putting himself in danger. He may not come home alive. Thousands of women face this each year as they send their soldier husbands off to areas in our world that need defending. They put their life on the line to protect our freedoms and liberties. Because they do their job, I’m able to tuck my children into bed each night safe and sound.
So imagine that you receive word that your husband has been badly wounded. He could have died, but he survived and after months of therapy will be coming home. Now imagine that same country that you defended, which may welcome you home with parades, doesn’t offer adequate health insurance to continue your rehabilitation. Doesn’t seem right does it?
In honor of Veterans Day I’d like to direct you to a woman’s blog I have been following. She writes about her life, her struggles with her wounded warrior husband, and it will touch your heart. Please take a moment today to go read her blog at http://wifeofawoundedsoldier.blogspot.com/
Also, here is a link to two of my favorite sites for Wounded Soldiers.
http://www.operationhomefront.net/default.aspx
http://www.woundedwarriorproject.org/
To all the soldiers, men and women, that fought to protect my freedoms, thank you and I wish you a Happy Veterans Day on the 11th!
Do you have a special soldier you would like to thank? Do you do anything special to celebrate Veterans Day?

But Madame Curie, Girls Aren’t Smart Enough To Be Scientists!

2011-11-07T09:09:00.001-06:00

Yesterday we visited a Science and Engineering Expo with our children. I have three very curious, inquisitive daughters who just happen to be the offspring of one chemical engineer and one former 7th grade science teacher. Yes, our house is usually brewing with some sort of scientific experiment or nature study. We like to observe and infer and draw conclusions around here. It’s the way we roll.

Yet, as a mother of three daughters, I know that the career path of a scientist isn’t always an easy one for women. I’m old enough to remember the nonsense studies about males being stronger in math and science then females. I am an educator, a teacher of science,and I could give you a hundred reasons why we thought males were better at math and science, but they wouldn’t be valid. So as a mother of three bright females, who have the world at their doorstep, I can’t help but be thankful for many of the amazing females who have helped paved the way in science . Marie Curie is one of them.

She was born 144 years ago today. She managed to marry, win two Noble Peace prizes, and raise two daughters. Imagine that. She also faced adversity, being a women in the science field in the late 1800’s and and early 1900’s. She was a woman who followed her dreams and passions. A woman I want my daughters to know more about.

I found this link, which is an easy read for children. Google is also celebrating her today with this:

Happy Birthday Madame Curie, thanks for following your passions and leading many others to their dreams with your example!

Have you ever been told you couldn’t do something because you were too short, not smart enough, etc., but did it anyway?

The Living Christmas Tree Is Long Dead, But Not Our Marriage

2011-11-04T06:00:00.001-05:00

The following account was written by my husband and I for a family Chirstmas memory book 14 years ago. Honestly, it offers a lot of insight into our marriage in the beginning years.

Kara's version:
It was going to be a wonderful Christmas. It was our first official Christmas in our very first home as a married couple. I couldn't wait to start putting up decorations and filling our little house with holiday cheer. I had visions of sparkling lights hanging from the rooftop, luminaries lighting the entranceway and a majestic tree adorning our front room. As I stood outside staring at the front of our house one December afternoon I contemplated my strategy.

I need a theme, I thought to myself. Something traditional, yet unique. No icicle dripping lights for us; besides the stores have been out of them since before Thanksgiving. I'm thinking white lights strung across the roofline, no mixing & matching, just plain white lights. Maybe some lights on the bushes as well. Then some pine boughs encircling our front windowpanes with a few velvet bows to tie it off. Nothing flashy, nothing plastic, just simple. Possibly a spotlight to shine on the wreath that will hang on the front door. Luminaries would be nice, but I couldn't use plastic ones and the paper bag ones might not weather the next couple of weeks. Guess I'll skip that.

I was thinking of all the Christmas themes my Mom had done over the years. Her decorations were tasteful, unique, and catching to the eye. She used real luminaries, fresh pine boughs, etc. She was always ahead of her time in the decorating area. Bless my Dad for trying to untangle the lights each year. The neighborhood was well aware of our lights going up when my Dad's shouts of frustration echoed down the street. Speaking of men and lights, I needed to enlist the help of my husband. Oh, I could do it myself, but it would be more fun to involve WB. I caught a glimpse of him putzing around inside the garage as I contemplated my game plan.

"Let’s put up Christmas lights!" I yell to my husband who suddenly disappears around the corner of the garage. When he reappears and walks toward me I can tell he does not think my idea sounds like fun.
"Okay, here's the plan." I begin to tell him all my ideas and ask for his input.
I've learned that this is important in marriage.

He takes a deep breath, looks me in the eye and says, "Go for it!" and starts to walk away.

"Whoa, you don't expect me to do this on my own?” Again, the look. Quickly, I rethink my strategy and grab his hand. “But you are a genius with electricity," I smile sweetly.

This, I've learned in a year of marriage, is called stroking his ego
.
I plow ahead. I’ve learned to talk fast and with purpose, so I don’t lose his attention, "Why don't you get the lights and I'll work on the windows. And what about a spotlight; we don't have one."
Reluctantly WB turns from me and with shaking head climbs up into the attic to dig out the lights we had bought earlier. I settle for manufactured pine boughs bought at Wal-Mart. This distresses me, but WB assures me it looks natural as I wrap the long strands around the windows.

After quite some time the lights seem to be hung. I’m not crazy about the bright orange extension cord that hangs from the edge of the roof to the ground by the garage, but again WB assures me that no one will notice it, especially at night.

I had been unsuccessful in explaining the concept of a spotlight to my husband. This is very frustrating to me because I don't think it is a difficult concept to grasp. I try to explain to my husband for the hundredth time, "It's just a big bulb on a stake stuck in the yard and you plug it in!"

"What's it connected to? How does it light up?" he asks again
.
"Oh, geez, it's a light! A light you shine on things."

Why was he making it so complicated? My parents had two in their front yard and for the next week I frantically search the neighborhoods for some to show to him. He draws plans to rig an elaborate electrical system in our front yard and I just want a tiny, spotlight on my door. I finally give up and decide that the porch light will do.

Finally, it’s time for the Christmas tree. I'm not sure who first mentioned the idea of a living tree, but we ran with it. We found a nice Norfolk pine about 3 feet high that we can sit on top of a table by our window in the front room. I tell WB it is perfect. Small and young, but that we will have it for years to come and each Christmas it will grow and flourish just like us. It was a symbol of our marriage and all the Christmases we would share. I envision ten years into the future a six-foot tall tree surrounded by our children and I'd tell them, "Your Dad and I got this tree on our first Christmas together and it has grown taller and stronger each year." It was the perfect last touch to our Christmas decorations.

WB’s version:
It was going to be our first Christmas in our first home as a married couple. Kara had big plans for decorating, and set about trying to implement those plans. Kara spoke of visions of luminaries, simple white lights strung all along the roofline and bushes, pine boughs, velvet bows and a majestic tree in our front room. One lesson that I have come to learn in our marriage is that when Kara does the planning, Scott gets to do the implementing.

I asked her, "What about the lighted plastic snowman, where will he go? And the plastic Santa, and the lighted plastic candles? Should we put those on the porch or in front of the bushes?" I smiled inwardly as Kara glared at me.

Kara then said that we would need a spotlight. After looking over the front of the house, I realized that there were no electrical outlets. Not one to be bothered by minor logistical impediments, Kara continued on with explaining how the spotlight would herald the spirit of Christmas at our house in Pampa. I made the mistake of asking, "What would the light shine on?"
Exasperated, Kara replied, "Our front door!"
I pondered the architectural implications of highlighting our otherwise uninspiring front door, but I still remained puzzled as to what the spotlight had to do with Christmas. I could understand putting a spotlight on the chimney, or setting some spotlights out front like those seen at movie premiers so that Santa wouldn't miss the house, but I thought that the porch did an adequate job of lighting the front door.

After a thorough evaluation of the electrical demands of Kara's planned Christmas decorations, we settled on a string of white lights across the front roofline. Of course, I had to run an extension cord from the garage to provide power for the lights, which meant that during the day I had to remove the unsightly orange cord and replace it at dusk.

Our thoughts turned to the interior decorations, and most importantly, the tree. We both decided that a living Christmas tree would be both a nice economical and sentimental touch to our first Christmas. We bought a small Norfolk pine and set it on a table in our front room. Each year, the tree would grow and mark the passage of time as we would decorate it for Christmas. We envisioned that our children would help us decorate the very same tree. Best of all, we wouldn't have to spend any more money on Christmas trees!

Christmas came and Kara and I shared a wonderful holiday in our new home. However, six months later, the Norfolk pine had died, and Kara was already making plans for the holiday decorations, plans that included two spotlights; one red and one green.

Kara’s response ( and the last word, as usual)
As I remember it, we were at the hardware store and we finally found the elusive spotlights. The single spotlight wasn’t quite elaborate enough, so WB insisted on the double one and he also chose the bulbs! It looks good on my front door, but not as good as it will look on the new front door that he will install for me next year!

Do you and your spouse have differing opinions on decorating for the holidays? And has anyone out there had a live Chirstmas tree, and managed to keep it alive?

First Snow

2011-10-28T08:05:00.002-05:00

The panhandle had the first snow of the season yesterday.They got over three inches! I’m missing our sweet home in the canyon and hoping someone is feeding all our wildlife. In Houston, it is cooler this morning and windy. I’ll take what I can get.
What’s the weather like in your neck of the woods?

Don't Be That Awkward Runner

2011-10-26T07:00:00.001-05:00

My sister shared this with me awhile back. Just one of the reasons I hate runnng. I'm pretty sure I look just as ridiculous when I do!
Can you identify with any of these runners? I'm sure YOU don't run like this, but you've seen someone who does:)

Can You Imagine?

2011-10-07T08:27:00.001-05:00

A little Friday inspiration.
I often think what I will say or what it will feel like to meet my heavenly Father. I used to not dwell on it too much, because the thought of dying scared me. I knew that if I thought about it then it was sure to happen sooner. Or God would get the idea I was ready to leave this earth sooner then I was ready for. Silly thoughts, but I had them.
It was hard for me to imagine.
Now I realize that death on this earth only moves us on to our next place. A glorious place. I’m still not ready, because I feel like I still have so much ‘getting it right” here before I can move on. I’m no longer scared of death, but scared of meeting my Heavenly Father and having Him hold me accountable for some of my actions. And I know that He is a loving and forgiving God, I just want to look my best when that day comes.
I’m beginning to imagine.
When I have watched a love one die, I have been most at peace when I knew they had lived their life for Him. It wasn’t about how much money they could make, or how many influential people they lunched with. It was about living their life so that on the day they were called to the next one, they knew exactly where they were going and were prepared. They had God in their hearts with every decision they made and they knew He was calling them home.
I can only imagine the joyful reunion that took place.
So I’m learning that God’s measuring stick for this life, rarely is what we have made it to be. I believe God wants me to live my life fully here on Earth. One that is filled with lots of learning from my mistakes. I’m beginning to understand He’s not so focused on the mistakes and mishaps as He is on the learning from them. God knows my heart, so I’m preparing it for Him.
If I close my eyes and listen to my heart, I can imagine. And I’m pretty sure there will be some dancing involved.
What can you imagine?

I Am

2011-10-03T07:40:00.001-05:00

I am a child of God. One who wanders, and sometimes stumbles. But one who never walks alone.

I am a daughter. One who brought joy to parents who believed they would never have their own child. But God had a plan.

I am a sister. One who adores her little sister now and before. But there were times we weren’t so sure.

I am a friend. One who is loyal and grateful. But sometimes feels lonely and far away.

I am a wife. One who is head over heels in love with her husband. But knows it takes a lot of work to stay that way.

I am a mother. One who has been blessed three times over. But who worries that her daughters don’t always see the blessings they truly are.

I am a writer. One who wants to inspire others with her words. But who isn’t quite sure how to go about it.

I am a child of God. One who wanders, and sometimes stumbles. But one who NEVER walks alone.

Saying Good-bye

2011-08-15T08:17:00.001-05:00

Sometimes saying good-bye is a lot harder then you think it will be. It can be letting go of a beloved pet or a favorite home.

Good-bye can be painful.

Sometimes our good-byes are full of tears or anger. Other times our good-byes are full of hope and promise.

Saying good-bye can be a way of letting go of what was in order to embrace what is to be.

I believe God has a plan for me. Somewhere in the pain of good-bye is the promise of tomorrow.

For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope. -Jeremiah 29:11

Our Enchanted Castle

2011-08-10T07:40:00.002-05:00

Moving from Cotton-Top Hills has proved to be one of the most difficult moves I have ever made. Leaving the land, our home, and the people was gut wrenching to say the least. Now we find ourselves getting used to an entirely different way of life.
We no longer live on acreage surrounded by ranchland, but in a gated neighborhood that is situated around a golf course. Neighbors used to come visit on horseback or 4 wheelers, now they zip around on golf carts.
But we live on the water. An oxbow, whose waters overflow into the Brazos. And we have trees that loom over our house that provide glorious shade during this hot, dry summer we are having. And we do have land, half an acre. I shouldn’t stub my nose at that. There are many houses in similar neighborhoods that sit squashed up to the house next door. I can still stand on my back porch and see people, but I’ll get used to it I suppose.
And there is wildlife. For those of you who followed my adventures at Cotton-Top Hills, you know how connected we were to the creatures around us. So I thought I’d introduce you to a few of our new friends.

These are our Whistling Ducks, and yes they do whistle. They like to perch on our fence outside of my shower window. They also will perch in trees, which for a duck, is a little unusual. But they are beautiful and curious little creatures.

Here is the majestic Blue Heron. We have a pair of these that love to fish our shores. They fly down the river early in the morning, long wings stretching silently across the sky.
We also had a pair of hawks nesting across the street. It was fun to watch them hunt for food in the neighborhood. Very different then seeing them soaring over the wide open skies above the canyons looking for gophers. These hawks are masters at navigating the trees and the spaces between the houses.

This fellow guards our moat. WB likes to tell the girls we live in an Enchanted Castle and our alligators guard a treasure buried deep in the water. We have several that vary in size. The largest being a 10 foot momma that is nesting up the way a bit. We are told the park rangers will come transport them back to the Brazos when they get too large. I’m not sure what “too large” measures for an alligator. A six foot one is pretty impressive to me, but I’m told over ten feet seems to put them in the “need to move out of the neighborhood” size.

We also have fish in that moat. The girls have found a new hobby, fishing. They have caught catfish and blue gill and have the best time. Oh, and turtles. Lots of turtles.
There are raccoons, armadillos, and opossums too. One opossum lives in one of our tree trunks by the water. My sister who lives literally down the street has seen deer and a bobcat. Their house backs up to the water too, but they live closer to some unsettled land.
Oh, and I would be remiss to not add squirrels. We didn’t have those before, not enough trees. And lizards. My children have become the great lizard whisperers. They all have names and at any given moment I could walk outside to find any one of my children with a lizard perched on their hand or shoulder.
So our Enchanted Castle seems to be a wonderful new home for my family. We still ache for what we left behind, but have our eyes open to all the new adventures that surround us. God has set our path, and we shall joyfully continue to walk down it.
What surroundings are you inspired by?

Conquering Fears, Teaching Lessons

2011-08-08T07:25:00.002-05:00

We were up by 4:30 AM and loaded in the car for Soph, my 9 year olds, first Triathlon. She decided to compete a couple of months ago after she got interested in running with her Aunt. Her Aunt just happens to compete in TRI’s and Soph decided she’d like to try it to. She’s been to plenty, as her Dad, Aunt, and Uncle all participate in them, so she knew a little of what to expect.
As it always seems to happen, my children teach me lessons when I least expect them. The blessings they give me are continuous, and this day would prove no different.
First leg of the competition is the swim, 50 meters. Two years ago that swim would have caused me no worries, but that was before the “incident”. Soph was seven and had taken a summer of private swim lessons. She had gone from being afraid of the water to being a fish in the water. Then I put her in a group lesson, so she could be with a friend. She found herself in the deep end of the pool, leg cramp and struggling to keep her head above water. The instructor was unaware, as he was in the shallow end trying to deal with a child that didn’t need to be in that particular class. Someone got to her in a matter of minutes, but by then the fear of the water was back full force.

I watched her wait to enter the pool and I knew this would be her greatest challenge. She had come a long ways, but the fear, it was still there, waiting for the perfect opportunity to take hold. Her first 20 meters were beautiful, she looked strong and then she faltered. She was at the deep end of the pool 5 meters from the wall and she was struggling for breath. She managed to grab the wall and then stopped. Swimmers were catching up with her,tagging the wall and going under the rope to head back for the last 25 meters. The confusion on her face made others think she didn’t know to head back, but her grip on the wall told me otherwise.
I had to crawl on my hands in knees in front of a crowd of spectators to get close enough for her to hear me.
“Soph, you’re doing great. Are you okay?”
When she turned to look at me I knew it was not okay. Her glazed, wide eyed look spoke directly to my momma heart. She was petrified. I watched her frantically look around for a way out. In that brief instant I thought she was done. I gripped the pebbly surface beneath my fingertips, torn. I wanted to soothe the fear, but I also knew she could do it. We talked it out. I, stretched out as close as I could get to her, offering words of encouragement. Her eyes slowly stopped darting around looking for that escape. “You can do this.” Big brown eyes, stared straight into mine. The glazed looked replaced by determination. In one quick breath she was gone. Head under the rope, up the other side and she was swimming her last 25 meters.

I ran to cheer her on as she got out of the pool and onto her bike. I prayed she was okay. Her steps were quick, but hesitant as she left the water. I told her she was awesome. Her face lit into a smile and she ran to her bike. She flew through the bike course and onto the run. She stopped along the way to offer support to a fellow competitor who was walking. This race was about far more then time for my Soph girl. She finished strong, among loud cheers from her family.

After the race Soph and I were cooling off under a tent when she told me about the water. “I couldn’t catch my breath and I realized I couldn’t stand. I just panicked. Next time I won’t.”
My momma heart soared with pride. She was conquering her fears. She was teaching her momma that no matter how good we get at something the fear is always lurking. And sometimes it takes hold, but that doesn’t mean it has to drag you under. Nope, it just means you hang on, catch your breath, and plunge ahead.
“I think I did good.”
Closing my eyes smiling, “ I think you did awesome.”

Have you conquered any fears recently?

Passion

2011-08-01T07:43:00.001-05:00

“What is passion and what does it feel like?” The question came from one of my daughters.

I responded with, “Feeling strongly about something, so strongly that sometimes you get really excited about it. Or sometimes it makes you blind to the other things around you. And sometimes it just makes you very happy”.

“Excited, like jumping up and down and yelling and screaming ?”

“Sort of like that, yes.”

“Blind like a horse wearing blinders and all he sees is what is in front of him?”

“Exactly.”

“And they very happy is when you are just enjoying every minute and smiling.”

“Sounds good.”

“Do you have passions Mom?”

“Yes.”

“I think I can guess them. Football is the excited kind. Sometimes you jump up and down and yell and scream while watching it, especially Tech football.”

Laughing, “Okay, you are probably right.”

“Writing. It makes you blind sometimes. You sit on the computer and type and we can be running around screaming or trying to talk to you and all you see is what is in front of you. The computer.”

“Hmmm, you are probably right about that too.”

“And the happy kind. That is easy. You are passionate about life, especially your family and friends.”

Darn, she’s good. I’m so glad we had that discussion.

What are your passions?

Play Dough Is a Writing Mommas Friend

2011-07-25T07:44:00.001-05:00

It’s so very tempting to sit my kids down in front of the television for a movie or to let them play the afternoon away with the Wii, just so I can have a little time for me. Usually, I’m wanting to plot away on my newest writing venture. Sometimes, I just want a little time off the “mom on the constant go” roller coaster. But, at the same time, I don’t want my kids brains fried from too much television or video games. I want them to know how to entertain themselves and let their imaginations soar at the same time.

I have a box of 24 colors of play dough sitting on our kitchen table. It was a family Christmas gift this last year. I believe it was a 5 dollar after Thanksgiving special I scored early on Black Friday. And all I can say is it is proving to be as good of a deal as the 5 dollar waffle maker I bought at another Black Friday deal 12 years ago.

One day they started making these creations. I need to point out that Barbie is very popular with the 4 year old and her older sisters play along graciously, most days. I think on this particular day they were looking for a way to kick it up a notch or two.

They are very fashion savvy.

Next came the sculpting, which you do a lot of with play dough. But they took it a step further and created a story around their scene.

They happily told me a story to go along with each creation. Very nice, no brain frying here.

Then as I was bragging to WB about how creative and wonderful our children were he made a suggestion, Claymation. What? I asked. You know let them make movies. Oh yeah, right, Claymation. Why didn’t I think of that? Sweet WB set up the camera on a tripod by our arts and crafts table and the fun began. I need to note here that when WB was home he poured himself into this project. I happily retired to my bedroom, plopped myself down in front of my big window and wrote away.

This is what they have been creating:

Soph’s movie

Em’s video

Little One’s Worm

I love it! They are having a blast, I am a happy momma doing my thing and no brains are being fried! Play Dough is a writers friend.

How do you keep your kids entertained this summer so you can have some time to do your thing? I’ve got pencil in hand and will be taking notes.

Writing Your Love Story

2011-07-20T08:55:00.001-05:00

I’m in the business of writing love stories. I’m also an avid reader of them as well. But I’ve come to realize the love story I enjoy writing the most is my own personal one.

Sometimes, as a writer, I struggle with plots and characters. I get bogged down in the conflict and story arch. All the technical stuff weighs heavily on my fingers as I try to type out the perfect story, the one everyone is dying to read. Struggling with the fact that my writing techniques are far from flawless, I get frustrated and worn down. There are times I have wanted to quit. Times I have walked away from the story. Put it on the shelf to come back to later. I tell myself I’m neglecting too many other things in my life to sit at the computer and write. Sadly, this can be said of my love story with my husband as well.

In my marriage, at times, I have gotten worn down. I have become tired of the constant effort it takes to have a successful union with my husband. I have kids to take care of, dogs to look after, household chores and errands to run. I have put my marriage on the shelf, too busy tending to other things. I’m a busy momma, who can argue with that?

Then there have been times when I have given it everything I thought I had, only to find failure. My husband failed me, I failed myself, or life failed us in some significant way. Failure and quitting, they go hand in hand, right?

Wrong.

Every successful writer talks of the roadblocks and rejection letters that were flung out before them. But they also talk about how the passion for their writing endured. The failures led to more passion, more focus on how to better their writing. Failures, yes. Quitting, no. This, too, can be said of marriage.

At some point I realized that the failures in my marriage were actually an opportunity. An opportunity to learn and grow. Sometimes the learning process took much longer than I would have liked. At times the failure had to be repeated several times before my husband and I “got it”. But “got it” we did and the passion was reignited. Passion for one another and our marriage.

I’ve learned that many things can be neglected. Laundry, dishes, grocery shopping are just a few on my list. But what can’t be neglected is my love story. Each day is a chance for me to write a new chapter, make each word count. And all you writers know, we count each word dearly!

I’ve been asked by some to share about my marriage. I’m humbled by that request and hope to blog about it once a week, along with my writing and my crazy family life. It’s all part of the story, my love story that is.

What is your biggest obstacle when writing your love story?

The Party Food

2011-07-13T19:46:00.001-05:00

First, I have to apologize because I was so busy cooking and
WB was so busy entertaining that I don’t have very many pictures of the food. But, I do have the recipes for those who want to try them out.

The menu for my MIL’s 70th birthday party fell together after we had decided on the flowers and the casual/classy spin we were trying to take on things. Okay that, and the fact it is Texas and July so of course we had to do some sort of spicy meat thing. Let me share a couple of my entertaining secrets. First, look for dishes you can prep or mostly prepare ahead of time. This way you aren’t going crazy in the kitchen as your guests are arriving. Or find dishes that people can help you with. Another secret, I have my family favorite dishes I like to prepare and I have my “go to” cookbooks for entertaining. Two of my favorites are Ree Drummond /The Pioneer Woman’s Cookbook and Rebecca Rather’s Cookbooks. Both are amazing cooks and both know how to entertain.

The menu for the party was Spicy Dr. Pepper Shredded Pork from the Pioneer Woman. It is so very simple to make. Just take a pork shoulder and salt and pepper it. Put it in a Dutch oven. Dump 2 cans Dr.Pepper, 1 can chipotle peppers with adobe sauce, one whole onion wedged and a couple tablespoons brown sugar in with the meat. Put it in the oven at 300 degrees and cook a 6-8 lb. roast for about 6 hours. I love this because anyone can make this, but everyone who tastes it thinks your amazing.

I served Jalapeno-Cilantro slaw with it, just like Ree suggested. You heap the pork and the slaw onto a toasted bun and you have a divine sandwich. I felt the need to explain to my guests just how to put their sandwiches together. They are family, they are forced to love me and my instructions on eating.

Next up was the One Pot Cajun Potato Salad from Rebecca Rather’s Pastry Queen Party Cookbook. This, too, was super easy. Take a 1 lb. of red potatoes, cut in half if they are larger then a golf ball. Put in a pot of water and bring to a boil until tender. Drain. Add 3/4 cup butter, 1 tablespoon Cajun seasoning, 1/4 teaspoon salt and stir. Add 1/4 cup parsley leaves as garnish.

And it wouldn’t be a southern summer gathering if mason jars weren’t involved. Okay, it might be a southern gathering, but it wouldn’t be as much fun. The Layered Salad in a Jar was my favorites to make. This salad would be perfect for picnics and days at the beach. This also comes from Rebecca Rather.

First, you need pint size mason jars. You fill the first layer with cooked orzo and a little of the dressing.

Next, you layer with a cucumber, green onion, feta cheese, kalamata olives, and cherry tomatoes. The next layer is a mixture of feta cheese and oregano. On top of that add either baby spinach, arugula or a mix of baby greens. Last, sprinkle some toasted pine nuts on top. Drizzle with some of the dressing and screw on the lid.

The dressing is made by mixing 1/4 cup lemon juice, 1/4 cup white balsamic vinegar, 2 tablespoons honey, 2/3 cup olive oil, salt and pepper and 1 cup feta cheese.

These can be stored in the fridge for up to 6 hours before and when the guests pick them up all they have to do is shake and eat.

My mom and sister made a fruit salad served in a watermelon basket and we had homemade Pico de Gallo and chips, along with some yummy Sangria. The sangria was a mix of Pioneer Woman’s and my Dad’s additions (specifically, more alcohol).

It was just a wonderful weekend of eating, visiting, and having a good time together. I love weekends like that.

Do you have a recipe you like to make when you have a crowd? I’d love to hear it.

Celebrating A Special Birthday

2011-07-12T08:08:00.001-05:00

A couple of weekend ago we had the honor of celebrating WB’s mothers 70th birthday in our new home. All of her sons and their families came in for the celebration, along with a surprise visit from her little brother. We had a wonderful time gathering together as a family. My parents and sister’s family were here as well. I love having people in my home, and I love it even more when I have my entire family under one roof. It just makes me smile and fills my heart with joy.

My mom came over to help me with the flower arrangements. I dream up these ideas and my mom makes them reality. I’ve had very few parties in which my mother was not there working like a crazy woman trying to help me put it all together. My dad is there too, we usually give him the kids to entertain. Couldn’t do it without them. Notice I am wearing white, yellow, and blue. That is important, there will be a quiz later. Okay, not really. NO quizzes today, it’s summer.

My mother-in-laws favorite flowers are carnations and sunflowers, which were fun to work with. I love putting together parties. Sometimes the theme comes from a favorite color, or place. This time the party ideas started with the flowers. I pictured casual fun, but classy too. Really, this describes my MIL perfectly, so it worked. I also pictured bright yellow and dark blue. Which lead me to forcing my parents, my husband and myself to drink lots of wine in blue bottles for weeks before the party. I needed them for my sunflowers and they indulged, just for me of course.

The flower arrangement on the left came from my MIL’s bank up in Amarillo. I think it’s pretty wonderful costumer service to have your bank remember you and track down where your party is so they can send you flowers. The spirit of the panhandle is alive and well, and I miss it.

The birthday girl, doesn’t look a day over 59 does she?

We had a wonderful time canoeing, playing washers (WB’s dad brought this fun game) , and visiting. It was a wonderful weekend of good times.

The birthday girl and her first canoe ride with WB and Little One.

My beautiful sister-in-law and niece.My other beautiful sister-in-law and her daughter and little one.

Gator sighting. Everyone was waiting. Our little gator made an appearance, but our big momma gator waited until the day after everyone left to show up. Figures, she’s shy.

The whole crew!

In the next post I will tell you about the food. Food is always very important around here. I’ll post the recipes some have asked for too.

Settling

2011-06-06T08:29:00.001-05:00

I have neglected my blog. There I said it. I have thought about it, written posts in my head, and then turned my back to the computer because I wasn’t sure where to start. But last night it rained. Why does that matter? I’m not sure. But we’ve been without rain for so long that as it bounced off the water, which is my new backyard, it seemed to be lulling me into believing I had a fresh start.

A little catch up. We moved to Houston in March. Lived with my parents for a month, while my husband stayed an hour and a half away with my sister and brother-in-law. Looking for a house was not fun. Silly me, I thought it would be. But nothing compared to my beloved Cotton-Top Hills, nothing. WB told me I needed to look at this whole house hunting thing as a way to live life a little differently. Differently meaning, give up the country and move to the ‘burbs. It was more then I could stomach. So I stressed and complained and declared, “I just wasn’t moving”. WB listened, cajoled, and gently told me his job was now in Houston and Amarillo would be a long commute. He gave me pep talks and told me to just narrow the houses down to a few and then he could come look.

We decided on a little community west of Houston. It is a small town busting at the seams, but still feels like a little country town in many ways. Plus, it is only 30 minutes from my husband’s work and minutes from a nice drive through the countryside. Oh, and my sister, brother-in-law, and new baby live here. I have not lived near my sister since my junior year in high school when my parent’s moved to Houston and I stayed behind in Dallas to finish up my senior year. And when I say she lives here, I mean we live on the same street! Just down the street. Around the corner. A short walk. It still seems strange to me, but it has been amazing. WB and I have lived on the other side of Texas, far from the rest of our family for 20 years. Now suddenly we have family all around. We can go visit for just a day if we want. We’re still wrapping our brain around that.

Oh, and in the midst of all my moaning and crying. Yes, crying, which I don’t like to do. I mean I cry at sweet stories, or those really tragic ones on TV or while reading a book. And sometimes, my friends, I do the angry cry. The I-am-at- the-end-of-my-rope, don’t you dare mess with me right now cry. But emotional- pity party cries, I don’t like them. They are messy and draining and scare my husband. But I have cried so much in the last 3 months that WB has almost lost that wide- eyed, deer in the headlight look when I start tearing up. Instead, he just opens his arms as I collapse into them. Soaking his shirt and blubbering uncontrollably. I would like to think all this crying has been cleansing. Yes, I prefer to think that. And along with that line of thinking I believe I have been cleansed enough for the next several years. So no more blubbering please. Anyway, in the midst of this we found a house.

WB picked it in the end. I threw out my neat lists of must haves and can’t haves, because this house didn’t exactly fit in any of those lists. No house probably would have anyway. WB knew the moment he saw it, it was meant to be ours. I thought he was crazy. He thought I couldn’t see through all the tears. But we have been here for a month and it is beginning to feel like home. We’ve had a rough first few weeks, but I can say, without a doubt, we are settling. But that doesn’t mean I have all my boxes unpacked!

Just a couple pictures from our new place. I guess I need to get out and take some more.

We’ve traded rolling canyons for a little lake in our backyard, complete with our own fishing dock.

Changes

2011-02-21T17:08:00.001-06:00

All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another. ~Anatole France

This quote fits my life perfectly right now. On Valentines Day my hubby received word that he had gotten the job he was seeking at his company’s corporate offices! His corporate office is in Houston, over 10 hours from our home. It was the good news, bad news kind of call.

We wanted this for a number of reasons, but at the top of our list was to be by family. We haven’t lived by family since we were in high school, that's a pretty long time. So we are thrilled to be closer to everyone- good news!

Bad news, we love living where we do. We have awesome neighbors and the people in this part of the country are one of a kind. I could have grown old in this house we bought sheltered in the canyon, surrounded by ranch land. I could have lived with the crazy weather, even the wind and dry air that has my face already resembling a road map. We made this overgrown, neglected house a home as we loved, laughed and lived in it. My heart, I believe, will always belong to the wide open plains of the Texas panhandle. I must die to one life to enter another.

I will apologize upfront for being neglectful with my blog in the next couple of months. So don’t mind me as I drop in and out unexpectedly in this blogging world, just as that flighty neighbor down the street might do. When you least expect it I’ll pop my head in and say hello, just to disappear and have you wondering when I might reappear. I’m not trying to be unprofessional, but I am trying to keep sane as I’m running around like a crazy woman trying to homeschool, pack, and search for a new home.

Already, this new adventure has me plotting and absorbing experiences I can share with my writing. You have to truly live life to write about it and I think I’m getting a good dose of it right now!

Oh, and if you have any tips on getting my house organized for the move or advice on anything related, I’m all ears!

An Award and 7 Little Known Facts About Moi

2011-02-09T11:46:00.004-06:00

Another blast of winter blew through last night bringing bitter cold, snow, and lots of wind. It was nice to snuggle in with the girls and watch movies and go to bed early! Today the snow drifts are 4 to 5 feet in some places while leaving some bare brown spots of grass in others.
All this makes me want to hibernate. In fact, I’ve been doing a lot of eating and sleeping. When warmer weather finally arrives I have a feeling I will be working off my winter “layer”. Of course, this is a great climate for writing and I’m thankful for that.
In other news, I received an award from two of my blogging friends. Thank you, I am honored.

Nancy at Boomers, Scribblers and Saints is a sweet blogging friend who shares with us her faith, writing, and family. I love reading her insights and what she has been up to.

Kittee at Running Half Crazy shares with us her life as a runner. She runs half marathons and has a full one on her schedule for next year. She inspires and keeps it real. Kittee lives in the little town I moved to right after WB and I were married. She is truly an amazing person and a sweet friend.

Now the rules say I must tell you 7 things about myself. Hmm, what could I say that I haven’t already shared???
1. Someday I want to visit Scotland. The rolling green landscapes, castles and legends are a writers dream. It is also my secret desire to have my husband wear a kilt while we are there and toss around a few logs.

2. I have herded cows on a John Deer Green lawn mower with a 1 year old on my lap. They were trampling on my garden which was unacceptable.

3. I get irritated when I see men in shiny, Nile crocodile, Teju Lizardish boots. Pleeeeaaaasssseee, give me a man in some manure caked, scuffed up pair of cowhide leather boots. The ones where the soles are worn down from taking his sweetheart for a spin on the dance floor every Friday night.

4. I could live in soft white cotton t-shirts and my favorite pair of jeans. My daughters on the other hand have recorded every episode of What Not To Wear and force me to watch.

5. I am living proof of God’s never-ending patience, love, and understanding. Just ask my husband.
6. My children provide endless hours of joy. Sometimes it’s the I- want –to- pull- my- hair out kind and sometimes it’s the I- want- to- keep –you –like- this –forever- kind.

7. As I began this blog talking about the snowstorm I can now say I’ve survived a tornado in a hotel room with 3 small children AND a blizzard with those same 3 children, all ALONE. Obviously, my husband has an aversion to natural disasters because he’s never around when they happen. Or at least it seems that way.

The rules say to pass this on to 7 stylish bloggers. But, I think everyone who visits here is a stylish blogger. So I give you this award. Okay, you are right. Partly it is my inability to pick just 7 and then not feel guilty for the ones I didn’t pick. So if you are new here, check out those that comment on my blog. Those are the really styling ones!!

I’d love for you to tell me something I might not know about you!

*My sweet husband would like to point out (check comment section) that he was here for the extreme cold temps we had last week and stayed home from work one day. Yes, honey you were, sorry. I direct you to number 5 once again:)

Being A Writer Can Be Hazardous To Your Health

2011-02-04T13:09:00.001-06:00

Being a writer is tough. Our minds work in a such a way that mere laypeople do not understand. Every outing is a character study, while every news story is a possible plot. A simple word from a stranger can trigger a storyboard.

When I talk to people I am fascinated with the smallest details and ask lots of questions. Hey, this is research for free and beats looking things up on Google. And I’m just naturally curious, I think most writers are. The problem is my conversations usually last longer then necessary. This recently happened during a trip to a computer store. I was looking for ink cartridges for my printer and was getting help. Somehow the conversation turned to the latest technology for spyware. Before I knew it I was surrounded by 3 guys dressed in their blue polo shirts and khaki pants all sharing their thoughts on the subject. I was fascinated, sadly my three children were not. Nor were the 5 people standing around needing help and shooting me dirty looks. I quickly thanked the young men, grabbed my ink and shooed my kids past the angry onlookers.

We also have to watch what we say. One day I was in the grocery store with my kids and I was in a very melancholy mood. I told the girls we needed to buy chocolate and lots of it. As we were loading up the cart my oldest asked, “Mom, the only time we buy this much chocolate is when you are sad. What's wrong?” Without thinking I told her “Well, tonight I’m going to have to kill someone.” My oldest didn’t blink an eye. She knows her mom regularly kills people off in her stories. Unfortunately, the lady with the fur wrap buying her Ghirardelli bars did not. Not to worry, I finally caught up with her in the frozen food aisle and explained I was a writer. Guess what? Her cousin did some writing too and we had a nice long conversation.

The most hazardous part can come when you live and breath your characters. They never seem to leave you alone even when you are sleeping. Sometimes you replay scenes in your head. Like maybe a scene in which your hero is about to drown in a raging river and you scream his name. Only to realize you REALLY did scream his name and your husband is already on his feet beside the bed looking dazed.

“Did you just scream James?”, hubby rubs his eyes.

“Um, well maybe.” I say shaking the fog from my head.

“Why?”

“I think I was dreaming.” I mumble as I start to pull the covers up to my shoulders.

Hubs narrows his eyes. “You were dreaming about James?”

“Yes, you know the character in my book.” I now have the sheet over my head trying to shield myself from his piercing stare.

“No, I don’t know.” I cringe as he climbs back into bed, then I hear him sigh.

I relax and start to giggle, “Sorry.”

“It’s alright”, he says as he snuggles closer.

I knew he would understand. It can be tough being married to a writer, but he’s a sweetheart.

“Just so you know”, he whispers in my ear, “I’m writing a story too. Just wanted you to know, in case I scream the name Trixi in my sleep.”

If you are a writer, what do you find is the most hazardous thing about our profession?

Frozen

2011-02-02T07:12:00.001-06:00

-We are experiencing the 2nd day of temps with a wind-chill value hovering around –28.

-Water heater and pipes face north wall, which means this morning we have no water due to frozen pipes.

-I have a brave and very cold husband who has been outside checking pipes and taking the hike up the hill to the well to check on things. Now he is out trying to find a space heater, but of course no one has any.

-I have renamed the Panhandle of Texas the Artic Desert. Because unlike everyone else we just get bitter cold without the precipitation.

-I have two outside dogs, 14 and 15 years old. They are senile and one has continence issues. So we are constantly letting them out of their inside kennel to go out for potty breaks. Not to mention cleaning kennels a few times a day.

-I have four girls in this house and a no-flush rule in effect.

-The high today will be 10, that is without wind-chill.

Good News

-We have electricity.

-Thanks to hubby we have a 5 gallon reserve tank of water so we can flush today at least a couple of times.

-We can get out and go places (under numerous layers) because we don’t have snow.

-I’ve been blessed to have my doggies since my hubby and I were first married. Old and senile, but still here.

-We have food in the pantry and bottles of water galore in fridge.

-And my computer works!

How is your weather today? And how are you dealing with it?

Remember Alex Brown Campaign

2011-01-31T08:29:00.001-06:00

Today I’m going to pause from my regular rambling blog posts to share a pet peeve of mine. Texting while driving.

I don’t understand why we think they can drive a 4,000 lb. car down the road at 50+ miles an hour with one hand while looking down at our phone and pushing tiny little buttons with letters on them in the other. It takes the average car and driver 168 feet to bring their car to a stop going 40 miles an hour. So let’s say you get a text from your sister while cruising down the neighborhood and decide to text her back. A child chases a ball out into the street in front of your car. If you are looking down at your phone it isn’t going to matter what your reaction time is, because chances are you will never see the child.

Why in the world would we risk killing ourselves or someone else? Is any text that important? We all know the answer is no, but it seems to be part of our human nature to think we can do it all.

Now think of all the 16 year olds on the road. I remember when I was 16 and I had been driving the country roads since I was 11. But you know what, I still ran up over curbs and did a few unsafe things, just by being distracted by a song on the radio or talking to a friend. I shutter to think if I had a cell phone up to my ear, or the ability to text, what might have happened.

So last night on Extreme Makeover was the story of Alex Brown. A beautiful young teenager from a small town not too far from me. One morning she told her parents goodbye as she headed out for school and that ended up being the last time they talked to her. Down the road she was texting while driving and her truck veered off the country road and flipped several times. Her parents devastated by the senseless loss have started the Remember Alex Brown campaign. They are educating the public, especially high school students, on the dangers of texting while driving. Many states have enacted laws about texting and driving. Even though I think this is great, it saddens me that we have to have such a common sense law to keep people from doing something so dangerous.

First thing this morning I headed over to their website and signed the pledge not to text and drive. I did it while my daughters watched. They aren’t old enough to drive yet, but I’m hoping they will remember the story of Alex Brown when they are.

I hope you take the pledge too

Following Your Dreams

2011-01-28T08:26:00.001-06:00

Another letter in my Notes to my Daughters series.

To My Daughters,

There are going to be times in your life when what you want the most seems impossible. That what you are striving for seems out of your reach and roadblocks keep falling on your path. I pray that you don’t give up.

I pray that when people tell you, “No, you can’t do that”,while on your journey of achieving your dream that you smile politely and prove them wrong. Some will say the impossibility lies in the fact you are a female, or not strong enough, or that it has never been done before. But God has told you differently. Remember this :

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”
Philippians 4:13

And you can. You can do whatever you set your mind to with hard work, perseverance, and God’s guidance.

Don’t give up when your path takes you on some detours. It is in these detours you will learn the most. Sometimes it is God’s way of showing you what is most important or it may be His way of showing you that where you thought you needed to be and where God thinks you need to be are not the same.

Or sometimes those detours are made by those who want you to stumble and fall. Do not give in to those tricks. Remember and pray this scripture:

Lead me, LORD, in your righteousness
because of my enemies—
make your way straight before me. Psalms 5:

From the wise words of your Great-Grandmother Nano know this, “You come from good stock.” And indeed you do. You’ve heard the stories of your great’s protecting their family in the dead of the night with nothing between them and the enemy but a shotgun, of mother’s rushing sick children to a hospital hours away during wartime, mothers putting careers on hold to raise their children, and women pursuing their dreams by traveling far from their homeland. Much of your strength comes from them. Their stories, are in fact, entwined with yours.

I have no doubt you will achieve your dreams. And I pray that when you do, you give thanks. Enjoy the journey!

Hugs and Kisses,

Mom

Christmas Cards, Cowboys, and Sunsets…

2011-01-26T06:53:00.001-06:00

When we went out to take our Christmas cards this year we had quite the experience. I made a comment about our adventures on Facebook and a friend wrote, “Sounds like it could be a country song”. This of course got me to thinking and before I knew it my daughter and I had churned out a song. We never got around to recording it so you’ll just have to hum along to the tune of Ghost Riders in the Sky.

The Flathouse family went a riding out to Cadillac ranch one day,
determined to get their Christmas pics out of the way.

When all at once a mighty herd of red eyed cows they saw,

A-plowing through Cadillac Ranch and up the cloudy draw .

Yippie yi Ohhhhh
Yippie yi yaaaaay
Cadillac riders going by

Faces surprised, their eyes open wide, but it was way too cold to sweat,
Waiting for the dust to clear cuz they had no picture yet.

Let’s get a move on before the sun sets in that big ole sky,
Let’s set the lens on fire,
Before momma starts to cry.

And as the dust did settle the pictures they were snapped,
With frigid cold seeping through our bones we hoped that was a wrap.

We left behind the Cadillac’s you could no longer ride

Left them standing upright, against the darkening skies.

Yippie yi Ohhhhh
Yippie yi Yaaaaay
Cadillac Riders going by

Cadillac Riders going by

So tell me anything ever inspire you to write a song?

*No cows, cowboys, or children were injured in this photo shoot.

Pursuing The Art

2011-01-24T08:06:00.001-06:00

I’ve been a writer for a long time. I just haven’t always pursued the art. By that, I mean I haven’t, until recent years, set out to learn about the craft of writing. I took a lesson from my husband on learning the craft.

When we were first married WB got an old camera off of eBay, a Hasselblad. Suddenly, he was taking pictures everywhere. Studying lighting, angles, and even developing his own film in our little bathroom.

He read books on photography, he joined photography forums, and scoured the internet for any information he could find. We spent our weekends trekking across the state to take pictures of wildflowers, festivals, and wildlife. Many times I found myself up before dawn so we could make sure we were in place when the suns first rays framed landscapes in an ethereal light. This was before digital photos and all the photoshopping that is available to us now.

He dabbled in portraits, taking senior pictures in our small town along with being present at all sporting events for pictures. He started to make some money off of his art. He was even published several times in Texas Highways. Published, a place I would love to have been as a writer, which brings me back to my art of writing.

I’d been writing this whole time, even taking some classes here and there, but I still wasn’t pursuing it. I was teaching and then having babies. I was pursuing being the best mother possible and wife as well. I wrote when I got around to it, and many times I wrote without direction.

So fast forward and here I am. I’ve learned that if I want to be a serious writer I have to learn the craft. I’m getting there. I’ve had a few stories published in a women’s journal and I have a newspaper column. I think I can finally say I’m pursuing the art. My husband, I have to say, has been a terrific role model for me. Showing me that you can have a full-time job and still have time to pursue the art in your off time.

So it is with much pride that I share with you WB’s new photography blog. It’s a place where he can share his art, maybe even sell some of his work. He has pursued digital photography with the same passion as he did film. And I have to admit, I’m so glad I don’t have to share my shower with trays and strips of film hanging everywhere anymore.

I’d love for you to go check out his blog.

How do you pursue your art?

Conversations With The Delivery Man…

2011-01-21T09:08:00.002-06:00

The other day I had a conversation with a delivery man at my front door. He was obviously new to our route and a little in awe of the place. I’m not talking about my house, but the area. And the conversation started out like most conversations I’ve had with first time visitors.

“Wow, I had no idea this place was out here?” looking around at the houses that line the canyon ridge and the ones that sit in its shadow.

“Yep, it’s a well kept secret.” I smile as I jump from foot to foot trying to ward off the cold north wind that is finding its way through my open door.

“You know that sign on the frontage road by your exit? That is crazy, is there such a hotel around?”

“Um, no I’ve never seen it. Somebody has a sense of humor I guess.” I smile as I had off the package he has just delivered to one of my kids.

“Crazy stuff. Like those Cadillac's stuck in the ground just down the way from the sign.”

“Cadillac Ranch, that’s pretty cool isn’t it?” I reply, wondering if his delivery truck is now empty or if he just likes to chat.

“Then, I’m driving up and down this road.” He waves his arms in front of him as if he is about to launch into rendition of the Macarena. “And suddenly there is a neighborhood!”

I’ve seen that look of wonder many times as delivery and service men have arrived in our little canyon for the first time. And it always makes me feel like I’ve found a treasure that the city, just ten minutes from my house, is oblivious to.

The delivery man begins to chuckle at this point and I feel a nudge from one of my daughters. I look over my shoulder to find her staring at the man dressed in brown as if he is an escaped convict. Then she looks at me and without opening her mouth easily conveys the message that she wants me to stop talking and close the door.

But before I can say anything he stops chuckling and says, “Did they find Milton?”

“Milton?” I ask confused. “Oh, Milton. Yes, they found him.”

“I’ve never seen a missing donkey sign in a neighborhood. Cats, dogs, even a bird once, but never a donkey!” He continues to chuckle.

I hear the phone begin to ring and the daughter by my shoulder runs to answer it.

“Oh, hi Dad.” I hear her say from the kitchen.

The delivery man starts to back down our stairs. “Yep, this sure is an amazing place.” Suddenly, he looks down at his feet. “But, I bet you have snakes.”

“Yep, we do have those.” I reply as I hear my daughter on the phone behind me.

“Oh, she’s just talking to some man again…No, I don’t know who he is.”

I wave goodbye to the man, who is now studying the ground cautiously before he suddenly leaps into his truck from my sidewalk step.

I close the door and whirl around to face my daughter, who is holding the phone out to me.

“Man? Again?” , I whisper to her as she smirks at me.

“Mom, you talk to everybody about anything. Geez, just take the package next time.” She says loudly as she hands me the phone.

I groan as I take the phone and put it up to my ear, anticipating what the first words out of my husbands mouth are going to be. But first I have to wait for him to stop laughing.

Confidence is not doubt-free

2011-01-19T08:09:00.001-06:00

I'm not the greatest; I'm the double greatest. Not only do I knock 'em out, I pick the round.
Muhammad Ali

I love this quote. Sometimes it’s hard for me to imagine being so confident that I could say such a thing and mean it. Of course, Muhammad said all sorts of things along these lines while boxing. Maybe he didn’t always believe what he spouted, but usually he delivered. He had confidence in his abilities, and was able to brush aside any doubts and stare down his opponents.

I don’t think I need to boast about how great I think I am at something. But I would like to have the confidence to believe I can do whatever I set my mind to. I’d like to have a goal, like write a novel, and have no doubts that one day will it not only be finished but published.

For me, confidence is staring in the mirror and seeing all the flaws and insecurities and using them to push myself forward. If I am to be confident I know that those flaws and insecurities I have must be addressed. I know I have a weakness for being disorganized and scatterbrained at times(I like to think of it as multi-tasking). So I know the more organized I get the more confident I will become.

When I was in high school I took on a weekly after school babysitting job of a 2 year old and a 6 week old. The first time I looked down in the crib at that precious little baby I was terrified. She was tiny and I had never taken care of one so small. I began to have all sorts of doubts about caring for this baby along with her sister. I was afraid I might not hold her right, might not be able to get her to stop crying, I might not be able to change the cloth diapers and on and on. Quickly, I realized that dwelling on my insecurities was not going to get the job done. So I focused on everything I did know about babies and addressed those I did not. I read about newborns, I practiced with cloth diapers and I got to a point where I felt confident in my skills.

I may not be able to pick the round, but I’m confident that I can “knock them out” (goals that is) as long as I stare down my insecurities.

How do you gain confidence at something?

Finally, I’m Making Some Lists!

2011-01-17T12:52:00.001-06:00

So I’m making lists galore around here this year. I’ve always known that when I make a list I’m not only better organized, but better prepared. But, I’m afraid many times I neglect making one. Maybe it is fear of seeing all I need to do lined out in front of me. Sometimes it is me refusing to spend the time physically making one up. I’m not sure why, but I can be really good at throwing roadblocks up in front of my success and ignoring the call to make a list is just that.

My first list is a grocery list for the week, followed by a menu plan. A written menu plan, not a bunch of thoughts floating around in my head and rushing to the pantry each night to see what’s for dinner. So far it is working wonderfully.

Next is a list of what I want to accomplish with homeschool for the remainder of this year. I totally stress myself out thinking I am ruining my children’s education on a daily basis because I’m afraid we are not covering it all.

Then is the list for chores I’d like to get done for the day, and for the week. When it is staring me in the face, it is very hard to ignore that yes, I do need to clean all the baseboards today.

And the list I am the most excited about is my writing list. I finally have one! No longer am I wallowing in my excuses of what I might do if I have time. Now, because of all my above lists, I actually have the time for my writing. Go figure. And yes, I am a slow learner. All my blogging writing friends have written many a post about organizing, time management, goad setting etc. Well, it took awhile but it has finally pushed me to get it together. Thank you!

Just to make sure you understand my lists I need to clarify. They start off neat and then become a mess with crossed out lines, check-marks, and arrows moving things around. I’m constantly reminded that my plans need to align with God’s plan and I need to be flexible. The good news is that when I plan, being flexible is easier.

On another front I just want you to know my physical blogging facelift is still in the works. But I’ve already started switching up my posts here to include all aspects of my life, not just writing. Thanks for reading along.

Now, tell me, what about a list do you find the most daunting?

Dear Daughters, It’s Me Mom

2011-01-14T10:15:00.001-06:00

I’ve often found myself wondering about how sad it would be if I don’t get a chance to tell my daughters all I need too. I’ve thought of writing a journal, Notes to My Daughters, it would be titled. But I’ve never started it. Maybe I have a fear that if I write it all down then something terrible will happen to me and I won’t be around to see them grow up. Sort of like the thinking of not making a will, because if you do you are sure to need it. But the fact is we will all leave this Earth sometime, and my faith in God tells me He has a plan for me and writing or not writing this journal is not going to alter that course:)

So I’ve decided to start my journal and to share some of the entries here. Because, after all, Motherhood is a universal language of sorts. I think all mother’s share certain fears, hopes, and dreams for their children. Maybe your mother didn’t get a chance to tell you all she needed to, maybe you’re a mother who struggles to find the words to share with your daughters. Maybe my letters to my daughters will help you, or maybe they will just entertain. And maybe you will have words to share that will help me along the way!

Dear Daughters,

Today I am reminded of how easily we place our value on the image we see in the mirror. Our world seems to be on a quest for the “perfect” body, face and hair. The magazine covers, the television shows, the never-ending stream of talk about a person’s physical features. It can become overwhelming and cause doubt about your own body to creep in.

First, I want to remind you of a scripture:

So God created mankind in his own image,in the image of God he created them;male and female he created them. Genesis 1:27

It does not say that man created man in the image he thought was perfect. Which is what happens when plastic surgeons create a woman in the image of what the media has deemed beautiful.

So this is what I say to you. When you look in the mirror see all the beautiful traits that make you you. I learned to dislike my freckles, being told one too many times they were “cute”. Or some boy would comment, “You mean the girl with all the freckles?” I read historical novels that commented that freckles were considered a flaw, and women who had these were homely. Ouch, really. I thought of covering them up, getting rid of them with lemon juice, but in the end I decided I wouldn’t be me without them. Thank goodness too, because one of the first things your Dad noticed about me were my freckles. He loved them:)

Next, I want you to realize that your value does not have anything to do with your physical appearance. And I realize that now and for the next several years that won’t seem the case. But what I hope for you is that when you look in the mirror and doubt or dislike what you see that you think of this:

Do not let your adorning be external—the braiding of hair and the putting on of gold jewelry, or the clothing you wear— but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God's sight is very precious. Peter 3:3-4

Girls, you will just have to trust me that inner beauty is what is truly precious. It might not get you a modeling contract, or voted Most Beautiful, or even Homecoming Queen, but it will make you a most amazing person. One precious to those that love you, and trust me, many will love you.

We can’t all be 6 feet tall, blond and blue eyes and I’m sorry to say that you won’t be either, because it’s just not in your genes. But what I do know is that you ARE beautiful. Walk with the knowledge that God created you in His image. He believes you are truly beautiful, and as for perfect, well none of us are. Don’t ever give the power of your worth or your beauty over to someone else. Remember the saying, “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder”. Well, you are the most important beholder. So look in that mirror and celebrate who you are.

Love you bunches,

Mom

Sprinting To The Finish

2011-01-11T07:58:00.001-06:00

Do you have feel like you are sprinting to the finish of some project? It might be a 50 yard dash or it could be the last leg of a marathon. No matter what the distance when you see the end in sight you seem to pick up momentum.

Right now I have several writing projects that I can’t wait for that last sprint to the finish. I’m working on a cookbook with my girls that includes short stories with the recipes. It’s a fundraiser for their Dad’s MS 150 bike ride that is coming up soon. We need to race hard to get it finished and published in time.

Every other week my article for my family column seems to be a sprint. It’s always done that way. I think of the topic for a week, make notes, do some research and then the week it is due I find myself writing fast and furious to get it in by the deadline.

I seem to work better in the 50 yard dash mode. My marathons are my novels. Most days I feel I will never finish the race. I will never get that finish line in sight, or feel the exhilaration of that final leg. Maybe I’m just a sprinter, not a marathoner. Or maybe, in this time of my life sprints fit my lifestyle better. I’m not sure. But I do know I’m not ready to give up the dream of the marathon, even if for now my training just consists of the sprints.

Where are you in the race? Which do you prefer the sprints or the marathons?

To Make A Resolution or Not…

2011-01-06T08:42:00.001-06:00

I’ve never liked New Year resolutions. Why? Because they always seem to take flight about 2 months into the year. I usually make big plans to start some intense work-out regime, run a 5K, write a novel or something along those lines. And I always fail. So this year I took a really good look at why my resolutions always took a nosedive.

I was reminded of a saying that is repeated over and over in groups like AA. Take it one day at a time. This phrase came to me again yesterday at my doctor’s appointment at MD Anderson. Once again I was humbled by the challenges of those I encountered. Isn’t living with cancer a day to day challenge? My doctors appointment was fine, after all I’m not facing the big “C”, but the news I got wasn’t all good. But it wasn’t all bad. I felt down, but then I decided all I can do is live today and deal with tomorrow when it comes.

So all this brings me to the New Year Resolution. I thought I was just not going to make any, but I decided I would after all. My resolution is to live each day to the fullest. When my head hits my pillow each night I’ll look back over the day and celebrate my accomplishments and lament over my short-comings. I’ll say my prayers and ask for the strength to make the next day even better. To get done what I didn’t accomplish that day or to at least get one step closer.

And I’m making a list of things I want to accomplish:

1. Give acts of service by focusing on the small things.

2. Continue to get better organized with homeschool and household chores..

3. Start my days early, which helps with number 2.

4. To engage in some form of exercise each day, this includes playing hide and seek with my kids.

5. Write a little each day, even if it’s just a blogpost.

6. Deepen my faith through reading, prayer, and appreciation.

I’m leaving some of my numbers blank, because if there is one thing I have learned it’s that God has a list too. And sometimes we have no idea what is on His list, so this year I’m going to make sure and leave room for Him to work on me:)

Do you have a list? If so what is on it, I could always use some more ideas!

Happy New Year!

Soaring Through The Clouds

2011-01-04T09:27:00.001-06:00

Sixteen and a half years ago a boyishly cute, brown-eyed young man caught my eye. I’ve written about our love story before. How we met, why I call him WB, etc. But today, after 14 years of marriage I am reminded of a plane ride he took me on.

We’d only been dating a couple of weeks when he called and asked if I wanted to go for a ride.

“Sure, where are we going?”

“Up” was his reply.

After a short ride in his Jeep I found myself at a little community airport. I quickly took in the tiny, two-seater plane we parked in front of. My mind processed the small frame, not so strong looking wings, and the front propeller, that resembled the model planes people liked to fly at the park.

WB jumped out of the car with his black flight bag and a huge grin on his face. He promptly led me through the pre-flight check as we inspected the outside of the plane. Next, we hopped inside, where I immediately noticed that there was just enough room for the two of us to sit. He handed me a headset which covered my ears and had a little microphone to talk into. The engine roared to life and through my headset I heard his deep voice ask, “Ready?”

“Yes”, was my amazingly steady reply.

The deceptively fragile-looking plane gently lifted off the ground and slowly gained altitude. I stared in awe at the tiny people we left behind at the airport and the fields of cotton that were just beginning to grow looking like etched lines in the dirt fields. Blue sky stretched in front of us for miles, with just a tinge of clouds gliding along the horizon.

I had no idea then, but that ride would mimic our life together in many ways. I literally was swept off my feet by WB. His quiet, calm ways let me step into that plane without any fear. Later, in our marriage those traits would help to guide us through some turbulent times. Confident and steady hands, flicked through the instrument panel as we prepared for take-off. Those same hands would steady mine as my confidence waned in the years to come. WB’s ability to assess a situation and then plot a course would navigate us through life’s many adventures.

And that feeling you get when you first take-off, that stomach dropping thrill, it doesn’t really go away. It will reappear at times, sometimes when you least expect it. But the most wonderful thing is that that part of the ride is no longer the most thrilling. After 14 years I’ve come to realize that just soaring through the calm skies, as we navigate through the turbulence, is really the best part of the ride.

I love you WB, thanks for sweeping me off my feet!

Christmas and the Epiphany

2010-12-27T11:15:00.001-06:00

Our Christmas was wonderful, I hope yours was as well. We celebrated by going to mass and eating lots of yummy foods during the four days my husband was home. It was just my little family, as our relatives live at least 9 hours away. Even though we miss all our relatives, we kind of like our cozy little Christmases. It gives us plenty of time to enjoy each other, relax, and really concentrate on the reason for the holiday.

And the exciting part is it is not over! My Christmas decorations are still up and will be for at least another week, until we celebrate the Epiphany. It wasn’t until adulthood that I realized not all faiths celebrate the Epiphany, so I thought I could share some traditions that surround this feast day with you.

First of all, the Epiphany is when we celebrate the arrival of the Magi to the Christ Child. Most have heard of the 12 days of Christmas, or at least you’ve heard the song. Well, the Epiphany falls on the 12th day of Christmas, Jan. 6th. For us Catholics, Epiphany is celebrated on the Sunday between the 2nd and the 6th. So we are still celebrating Christmas at my house as we patiently await the arrival of the Magi.

⁹ After they had heard the king, they went on their way, and the star they had seen when it rose went ahead of them until it stopped over the place where the child was. ¹⁰ When they saw the star, they were overjoyed. ¹¹ On coming to the house, they saw the child with his mother Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped him. Then they opened their treasures and presented him with gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. ¹² And having been warned in a dream not to go back to Herod, they returned to their country by another route.

-Matthew 2: 9-12

Some fun ways to celebrate the Epiphany is by waiting to place the Magi in the nativity scene until this day. At the end of the day the family can formally put the nativity away for the next year. Of course at our house any excuse to cook and eat is celebrated. Traditionally a lamb roast is served . A Texas Epiphany celebration includes a smoked brisket. I’m not sure how traditional that is, but for my family it works wonderfully. Many serve a 3 Kings cake, which we have never done, but I’m thinking this year we will try it. So stay tuned, I’ll try to share our 3 King cake with you next week:)

After the arrival of the Magi, we can take down our Christmas decorations and put them away for another year. But the story of Christ’s birth will stay with us throughout the year.

Do you have any traditions in your family that you celebrate after Christmas to continue to reflect on the birth of Jesus?

Christmas Story – We All Have One

2010-12-20T08:20:00.001-06:00

Last year as WB and I were driving around finishing up our Christmas shopping this song by Capital Lights came on the radio. It was a song that stopped our conversation and had us listening to hear what the ending would be. It was a song that made you sigh and one that has a writer’s heart envisioning the story in novel form.

We all have a Christmas story to share. Doesn’t matter if you sing it, write it, or act it out, as long as you share it. You can even share it here if you want.

Raising Eyebrows To Raise Awareness

2010-12-12T19:43:00.001-06:00

*This post contains adult subject matter.

This weekend I stepped outside of my comfort zone, really more like a leap. I posted the above picture as a profile picture of myself on Facebook. My husband will be the first to say nothing is wrong with that picture, but it’s not something I would normally share. It wasn’t profane, or ugly, or weird. Some would say it was beautiful, some would say it was immodest, and others would say it was a bit inappropriate for a Christian mother of 3. But whatever people would say, it definitely got some eyebrows raising. And THAT was my point. Actually, it was my hook. Because I wanted your attention:

1 out of 4 women will experience domestic violence in their lifetime.
Approximately 1.3 million women are physically assaulted by an intimate partner annually in the United States.
And every day an average of 3 women will be killed in an act of domestic violence.

A few months ago 2 women in my town lost their lives due to domestic violence. I didn’t know them well, but I knew who they were. One was a friend and assistant of photographer Amber Wallace, who took the above photo. One was a woman that lived in my neighborhood. She walked down my street daily, her kids used to go to school with mine, we ran in the same circles. I looked at their smiling faces and had no idea of the inner turmoil they must have been suffering.

I’ve tried to put myself in their shoes. To feel the pain, embarrassment, and shame they must have suffered at their partners hands. To feel afraid and vulnerable. But it is difficult.

My home is my haven, and my husband is my protector. I have never been afraid to be in my house. Never feared for my safety or that of my children from the man I love. He cherishes us as gifts given to him by God, just as every woman deserves. Just as these women deserved.

I wish I could turn back the clocks of time and offer understanding and a place of safety for these women. I mourn for the children they have left behind. I mourn for all the women that we, as a society, can so easily turn a blind eye upon, because it is none of our business.

So sharing my picture with the world makes me a little uncomfortable. What if we all took one step out of our comfort zone and extended a hand to a woman who needs our support? Can we demand an end to domestic violence? What do you say to Raising Eyebrows so we can Raise Awareness?

For more information on domestic violence and what you can do to help check out these links:

Helpguide.org

USDA Domestic Violence Awareness Handbook

Domestic Violence Resource Center

Red In The Flower Bed by Andrea Nepa- Book Review

2010-12-07T07:50:00.001-06:00

Red in the Flower Bed is a sweet children’s book about a seed that finally finds its home in a garden far away. The colorful illustrations and rhyming verses make this book not only fun to read, but capture the audiences of both young and old.

The simplicity of the story opens up the door to discussions on how the seed felt being so far from home, but so loved by its new garden family. Which can then lead to the topic of Interracial adoption, which is what the author Andrea Nepa wrote the story about.

Andrea Nepa is the mother of an adopted Vietnamese daughter named Leah. In 2001, Adoptions from the Heart assisted with the international adoption. Andrea dedicated her book to her daughter: "For my dear Leah, whose journey in her young life has already taken her to far away and unexpected places." In 2006, Leah was diagnosed with cancer. She is currently in remission. Andrea lives with Leah and her husband, David, in Haddonfield, New Jersey. She is a registered dietitian for the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia.

Theirs is a beautiful story, one that is shared by many families across the country. I believe the story of Red in the Flower Bed is a beautiful way to introduce children to adoption, as well as a meaningful story for those families who find themselves like the garden in the story.

It would also make a great Christmas gift! You can look here to see about purchasing it.

Thank you to Andrea Nepa and Tribute Books for giving me the opportunity to read and review this book!

Little Star by Anthony DeStefano Review

2010-12-03T07:09:00.001-06:00

I was recently contacted by Anthony DeStefano about reviewing his children’s book titled Little Star. I was thrilled to have the opportunity because sometimes I feel Christmas books with a Christian theme are in short supply. I was anxious to read it and see if my children would like it.

When it arrived my 10 year old daughter Em carried it off immediately and read it. She came back a few minutes later with a smile on her face and said she loved it. So later that day I sat down with all three of my girls and we read about Little Star. The littlest star in the sky, unnoticed by all, until Baby Jesus is born. Then boy, does he shine. It is a beautiful story of faith and sacrifice. Not to mention the illustrations are wonderful!

A little back story on Anthony DeStefano, that as a writer I found inspiring. He wrote this book when he was 15 years old and a student in Frank McCourt’s class. Thirty years later it was published. How’s that for perseverance?

The following picture is from his blog:

If you have children, or children to give gifts to, I highly recommend this sweet Christmas story!

Some Changes In The Wind

2010-12-01T07:39:00.001-06:00

I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving! We travelled many miles of roads, saw all of our Texas family, and ate way too much. But that is what the holidays are for.

I haven’t posted recently because I’ve been reflecting on my blog. I feel change in the wind. You’ll remember a while back I divided my blog up into three different blogs. One to cover writing, one to cover my homeschooling and one to cover life at Cotton-Top Hills. Well, I’ve come to realize that I can’t keep up with all three. I’ve done a lot of praying about the direction of my blog and I’ve come to the conclusion that I am ready for my own domain. In doing this, all my blogs will be in one place. The details are still in the working, but I realize that my blog needs to represent my entire life. Not just parts of it. So soon you will get the whole kit and caboodle. I know many of you that read here are writers and I plan to continue discussing my writing journey, but my writing is influenced by my faith, family, and passions. And I want to share all of that.

So stay tuned for my new blog, coming soon. And in the meantime I will continue to post here. Hope I don’t scare any of you away!

Happy December 1st.

Howling At The Moon

2010-11-15T17:17:00.001-06:00

For months I found myself howling at the moon. Okay, maybe I wasn’t actually howling, but I found myself staring at it for nights on end. A little clock seemed to be ticking in my head, warning me that the minutes were flying by and there I sat too tired to do anything. Least of all sleep.

Being tired came from my 3 year old who still has not learned to sleep through the night. Not sleeping came after my surgery, where my body cycled on about 3 hours of sleep to an hour of wakefulness, then back to sleep. Then came the worries, the expectation of changes that are coming, but not quite here yet. My husband and I took turns jumping out of bed in the middle of the night, rarely both in it at the same time.

Then came the dreaded time change. “What nonsense”, is the common phrase you hear uttered about this event in our house. But guess what, it has been glorious. Suddenly my 3 year old is going to bed by 7:30, not 9:00 or 10:00. And I find myself with a little me time before I go to bed. Time to relax and unwind and talk with the hubby.

I find myself sleeping for at least a little while before my youngest wakes me asking for her sippy or some snuggles. But I’m feeling more rested and calm. Somehow this seems to set the tone for my family. My oldest are going to bed earlier and my husband seems to be enjoying the fact that he is not the first one to bed.

And the best part is I wake up early and still see the moon, but I’m no longer howling. I’m wide awake and ready to take on the day. I make my coffee and actually have the energy to do some work, not just sit bleary-eyed waiting for the caffeine to kick in.

I watch the moon disappear as I smile in greeting at the first wisps of light that streak across the sky. It’s a new day, and I’m ready!

How do you combat restless nights or mornings that come to early?

Cotton-Top Hills – Part 2

2010-11-04T17:55:00.002-05:00

On Tuesday I introduced you to some of the resident characters around here. But our place seems to be a tourist trap of sorts, because depending on the time of year, we always have lots of visitors. Some stay for the season and some are just passing through.

This is Leggs. He appears in the early months of fall along with many of his friends. Leggs is very shy and although he looks a little scary, he means no harm. In fact, he’s rather delicate in disposition. He’s looking for his lady love, so he never has time to stop and chat.

Oh, here is Mitzy. She appeared one day as I was working in the office. She popped up out of a gopher hole and frantically looked around. Obviously, she had taken a wrong turn in the underground tunnel system. I believe Prairie Dogs to be directionally impaired, but shhh don’t tell her that!

Of course we have our own live-in border patrol and they do their job very well. This is Blue Jean, Blue for short. She is 15 years old and still tough as nails.

Blue is super smart and likes to work. She patrols the property well and keeps us humans safe. A couple of years ago she had a run in with Momma from the diamondback gang. Momma was doing some early morning prowling close to the house. Close to where Blue knew my 6 year old daughter would soon be stepping out in the early morning darkness to feed her. Blue took a bite to the face, but sent Momma into hiding. *WB later found Momma out by the barn and made sure she wouldn’t cause any more problems.

This is Thunder. Thunder rolls with the punches. He quietly puts up with all of Blue’s bossiness and is content to sit outside of the limelight. He’s gotten along with Blue for 14 years and he’s jut a good ole boy.

When the coyotes start howling in the canyon, he answers them with a call to stay away. He uses that same call on the toads he encounters. No danger too big or small for this guy.

And really I could go on and on. But those are our main characters. Oh wait, I forgot one of my very favorites. This little guy is the sweetest, don’t let his horns fool you.

This is T. He loves to pose for pictures and is a very loving guy who is perfectly happy to be held. He keeps the ant population to a minimum around here, which is nice.

Do you have a favorite character of the animal variety?

I’m beginning to understand how Beatrix Potter felt

2010-11-02T09:39:00.002-05:00

Beatrix Potter spent a great deal of her life isolated and in the country, so it is not too much of a surprise that the object of her stories were animals. Some days I feel a kinship with Beatrix, and not just because she eventually lived at Hill Top Farm and I at Cotton-Top Hills. It’s because the longer I live here, on the verge of civilization, I realize that wildlife can take on its on personality.

Now Beatrix could draw, not me, but I can take pictures. Beatrix could write stories, and I’d like to think I can churn out a few of those myself. I’m not as isolated as Beatrix because I usually have my posse with me, my three children. And occasionally my sweet husband shows up, when work isn’t demanding his attention 24/7. But there are some similarities, because we tend to name our critters around here too.

Let me introduce you to my cast of characters:

This is George the roadrunner. He is very curious in nature, which made naming him easy. When I was pregnant with Little One he would visit almost daily and rap on my front door with his beak. He is a very gregarious fellow and always on the move. He is the head of the welcome wagon around these parts.

Red is a lofty guy. He spends many afternoon soaring above, but sometimes he’ll find a perch on one of the dead trees by the dried river bed. He always knows what is going on and is known as the town gossip.

This is Bunny, she isn’t really a resident of Cotton-Top Hills, but she shows up with her friends every once in awhile. She likes to throw her weight around and make sure she is seen.

Moose, he’s a dear fellow. He’s quiet, stately, and considered our patriarch.

But every town has it’s outlaws. Here is one of ours, he’s wanted around these parts.

That’s Fang, and she’s the youngest member of the Diamondback gang.

But luckily for us we have a Sheriff here, and he is always on the lookout for Fang and her gang.

That’s just an introduction to my cast of characters. There are many more citizens of Cotton-Top Hills I’d like for you to meet. I’ll have to arrange some sort of meet and greet for you all to get to know them. Check back on Thursday and I’ll see what I can do.

Until then, you might want to check out the series by Susan Albert titled The Cottage Tales of Beatrix Potter. I met Susan through my mother-in-law and have attended many writing conferences and workshops with her. She’s a wonderful writer and I think you would enjoy her books.

Do you have any favorite characters that hang around your place?

Keep Your Eye On The Target

2010-10-29T08:28:00.003-05:00

Around here we believe in teaching them at a young age to focus.

First we give them all the proper lessons and tools they need to ensure that acquiring their target is done in the safest and most efficient way. And it’s never too early to learn about these tools, even when you're not quite ready to go after the target.

It is much easier to keep your eye on your target if you know what it is. We need to be specific with what we are aiming at, so we don’t miss. When we first learn to focus, our targets are clearly defined and often don’t move out of our sights.

Later our targets may not be as clearly defined and might move in and out of our range requiring our focus to be even more steadfast.

If it isn’t, we may find ourselves distracted. It is easy to forget the task at hand when we see something else that grabs our attention.

Something that has nothing to do with with our target, but may be just as interesting. It can be difficult to focus for many hours on just one thing.

And sometimes we realize that no matter how hard we try to attain our target, we just can’t seem to do it through traditional methods. We need help zeroing in and getting it within our sights.

Even if we look a little foolish doing it, we know that we will do whatever it takes to get the job done. Even if there is some snickering going on behind your back.

Because if we stay focused, don’t give up, and keep our eye on the target we will nail it. But it might just take several tries, so don’t give up!

How do you keep your eye on the target?

A Fantastic Read- Jody Hedlund’s The Preacher’s Bride

2010-10-26T17:04:00.001-05:00

I’ve been slow to post recently, but I hope to get back on track. I am once again home and in the whirlwind of getting my house back in order and ready for the holidays! I can’t believe it is already the end of October, where did my summer go? No matter, because fall is my favorite time of year and I will enjoy the cooler temps and autumn colors.

I have to brag now on a fantastic book I read by debut author Jody Hedlund, The Preacher’s Bride. Most of you know her, but those who don’t let me tell you something,she is one amazing lady. She inspires me as she is also a homeschooling mom and yet makes sure she has the time to write. And write well.

First a confession. I haven’t read too many books in which the plot and characters are centered around a Christian theme, especially historical. In fact, even though I tend to write from a Christian angle, I have been worried that a book considered Christian fiction might not hold my attention. I thought the romance would not be steamy enough, the plots too boring. I have no idea where I came up with these theories because Jody’s book is NONE of these. I knew she was a fantastic writer, I just thought maybe it wouldn’t be my type of book. Wrong again!

I’ve picked up a lot of books over the years from new authors and many times the first few books they write are good, but lacking. The talent is there, but it’s not quite honed. So imagine my surprise when from the very first sentence of Jody’s book she had me hooked. I read without any of the “writer” thoughts going through my head of , “Well, the wording could be better” or “The plot is going a little slow” or “Hmm, that character is a little weak”. I just kept reading Preacher’s Bride and my “writers” brain was in awe.

The characters come alive, the plot keeps you turning the page and well, lets just say that the romance between the two main characters is anything but boring. It’s a beautiful story of faith and love, one that left me up way past my bedtime to finish.

The back cover sums it up wonderfully:

No matter the sacrifice, Elizabeth Whitbread would serve a wounded family.
No matter the danger, John Costin was determined to speak God's word.
Neither expected to fall in love.

It’s a book you won’t want to miss reading and it leaves me waiting for her next one.

A Special Night at the Movies watching Secretariat

2010-10-08T16:18:00.001-05:00

Thanks to BlogHer and Disney, my two oldest daughters and parents were able to go to a special screening of Secretariat. It was a special night for my kids as my parent’s were raised in Kentucky and grew up with the Kentucky Derby . I was only a few months old when Secretariat won the Kentucky Derby, then went on to win the Triple Crown. But his name was one I grew up with, and now my children know his amazing story.

The following is a review written by my 10 year old, Em.

Secretariat was a great movie! You’ll laugh, you’ll want to cry at some parts, but it still is a great movie. A lot of people clapped in the movie theater because it was just that good. I am so glad that Disney gave us those tickets for three reasons: number 1 it was an outstanding movie, number 2 we got great seats, and number 3 we didn’t have to wait in the huge line. We got to go ahead of everyone and be ushered to our seats.

Secretariat was a race horse in the 70’s. It was cool because they showed real footage of the race in some parts of the movie. It was extra special because I went with my Grandparents and they’re from Kentucky and some parts of the movie were in Kentucky. Go see Secretariat!

So if you get a chance this weekend go see Secretariat in action!

I’ve Got It!!

2010-09-29T12:57:00.002-05:00

It just came in the mail. Actually, it came in my parent’s mail as I am in Houston for my 1 month check-up after surgery. It was waiting for me on my bedside table when I arrived. I’m so excited!

I’m so glad the weather is perfect and the grandparents are nearby because I’m off to the hammock to read my blogging friend’s just released first book, The Preacher’s Bride, by Jody Hedlund.

I’ll catch up with you all just as soon as I can tear myself away!

Have you read any good books lately?

The Day The World Cried

2010-09-10T20:35:00.001-05:00

Sept. 11, 2001
Today is a horrific day. Hard to believe when you wake up to such brilliant blue skies and such peace only to discover others were in the midst of terror. We are visiting my parents in Houston and as I turn on the TV, just as my Dad is walking out the door the sight of the WTC towers on fire fills the screen. My Dad and I watched horrified as the second plane was caught on video and sharply careened into the tower.

"That is a passenger plane!" my Dad shouts as he watches the video.

We would find out later it was, both planes, full of innocent people. The anguish just about brings me to my knees. I can't help but think the world as I've known it is gone and tomorrow will bring us into a new era...

Sept.17th, 2001
I can't understand this tragedy. I can't wrap my brain around it to sort it all out. But who can? Such a senseless act, causing so much death and despair. And yet almost a week later I realize how many life lessons will come out of this shroud of death. That even in death there is life. Those gone from this world will be deeply missed and yet we will continue to learn from them. They will not be forgotten. And faith comforts us by telling us they are at eternal peace. After their terrible suffering they no longer feel the pain. That will be the burden we must carry.

These two entries came from my journal from 2001. I remember that day vividly. I was over ten hours away from my husband while visiting my parents. Holding my 1 1/2 year old daughter I turned on the morning news. The house was eerily quiet as my Mom and Dad had already left for work. Suddenly the room was filled with sirens and the sight of a building on fire as the screen came to life. I stared blankly, not understanding what I was seeing. The first plane had already hit one Twin Tower. The plane that crashed into it, I immediately assumed had suffered some terrible malfunction that allowed in to careen so off course. I picked up the phone to call my Dad and tell him what had happened. Then another plane crashes into the other tower. My Dad is asking me questions that I don’t have the answers to and I suddenly feel as if ice water is running through my veins. He tells me he’s close to home and he’s coming back.

The rest of the morning passes in a blur as the words passenger planes, hijackers, and terrorists are repeated over and over. My Dad and I scramble to get in touch with family. My sister’s building downtown is being evacuated along with all the others. My mother is at the hospital safe, but wishing she were home. My husband’s parents are in Prague and we worry about them being so far away. My Aunt and Uncle live right by the Pentagon, but are fine.

The skies go silent over my parent’s house and the only sounds from the air are the F-16’s that are patrolling the skies over the next few days. I hug my child a little closer as we watch them streak across the sky. I never imagined that some day I’d be walking through my parent’s neighborhood while fighters flew over, making sure we were safe.

Nor did I ever imagine life would ever be the same, and in a lot of respects it isn’t. But life does go on. Almost a month to the day I find out I’m pregnant with my second daughter. The planes eventually took to the airways again as the fighters disappeared from the clouds above. And I’m left with the feeling that I’m responsible for telling my daughters the story of 9/11, just like my parents’ told of Vietnam, and my grandparents’ WWII.

Just like the quote on my 7th grade teacher’s wall, “Those who don’t know history are destined to repeat it.”

Where were you on 9/11?

*I shared my story along with many others a year after 9/11 on a webpage dedicated to sharing memories about this event. You can find it at http://www.storycircle.org/sorrow.html

The State Of Censored Books or Authors

2010-09-08T20:20:00.001-05:00

While I was in Houston I came across an article in the Houston paper about an upcoming book fair/author signings at a school being cancelled. It was an annual event that was to include kids in the 6th through the 12th grades. The reason for the cancellation is that they supposedly withdrew an invitation from an author who wrote teen books dealing with drug abuse, sex, and drinking. When the other authors found out she had been “banned” they withdrew from the fair as well, causing the school district to cancel.

Writer are a tight lot and I wasn’t at all surprised that the other authors should their support and withdrew from the event. I understand that. But I think it is sad that all those children are now not going to have that all important exposure to literature. They won’t get to browse through the aisles of books, meet the authors, and fall deeply in love with reading or even maybe writing.

The banned author stated that she wrote about things teens face today. That nothing she wrote wasn’t something that many of those students weren’t faced with each and everyday. The school coordinators stood firm, believing it was subject matter that would not be appropriate for all the ages included.

I find myself understanding each argument. But I wish they could have come to some sort of agreement. Maybe divided the seminar into two ages groups. That is a wide range of ages to try to find subject matter that will interest and be appropriate for all involved. But instead it is cancelled and I feel that is such a shame.

What do you think about censoring or banning authors or their subject matter? Would you support another author that was banned?

On My Table Today

2010-09-01T16:29:00.001-05:00

I’m in Houston at my parent’s house trying to heal from my surgery and trying to take my mind off things. If I stay busy it is easier to ignore the twinges of pain, the incessant pounding in my ear as it tries to heal. I seek refuge in one of my favorite rooms in my parent’s house.

This room used to be the back porch, but a remodel several years ago turned it into a sunroom. The big windows let in lots of light and offer views of my mom’s flower beds. The room is furnished in antiques. Like this light that used to hang in my Grandmother’s house. The room also holds all my mother’s sewing tools and inspirations.

In this room I can imagine the beautiful fabrics and threads weaving into anything my mind can conjure.

I’m better at imaging then creating, but I try. Under my mom’s guidance I’m able to sew dresses, drapes, and whatever project catches my eye at the fabric store. By myself, I tend to be a disaster. I know just enough to get myself into trouble, but not out of it.

Today I busy myself with the beautiful advent count-down wall hanging I saw at the store yesterday.

All these figures will complete the nativity.

Today I am cutting each one out with a felt backing.

And as I work with my hands, I am comforted. I’m wrapped in the warm glow of my Grandmother Nano’s light. And here I find a few moments peace.

Do you have a favorite room to be creative in?

Recovering, With Some Grace From God

2010-08-21T21:35:00.001-05:00

If I were to write a story about my time at MD Anderson as I prepared for my ear surgery it would have been full of descriptions of the people I encountered. People young and old, their homes near and far, all converging on a place known for its breakthrough cancer treatments and world renowned doctors.

My journey to this place occurred 3 years ago when my ear specialist left his practice to treat patients at MD Anderson. With my ongoing problems, I’ve had doctors up and down the east coast, all over Texas and this doctor is hands down the best. So I moved along with him, even though I did not have cancer, I had my own set of problems, so I was welcomed.

God has humbled me in the presence of a type of suffering I might not otherwise have experienced. Because every few months when I go for a check-up, I see pain etched in the faces of the patients that surround me in the waiting room. I watch the nervous anticipation in the clasped hands of their loved ones. I smile as I see patients visiting with one another and making new friends in such an unseemly place.

There is also hope. Hope for a cure, hope for just a few more months, hope that miracles do in fact happen here.

At first I felt like an intruder in this special place. I knew those around me thought I too had cancer. I was an imposter. But slowly I recognized that I had a purpose here as well. When I came with my newborn child, I brought smiles to these faces. As she grew she interacted with everyone and I’d like to think took their minds off their situation, even if just for a moment. One smile from my 1 year old had the man in front of me suddenly quit his nervous shuffling and pacing. He was reminded of his now teenage children, back home in Ohio. I listened as he told me he had a tumor and been given just weeks to live. As a last hope he came here to Houston to see a specialist. He wasn’t asking for a cure, just a few more months to have with his family. I told him he’d be in our prayers and he thanked me.

He thanked me when it was I who should have been thanking him. He helped open my eyes to the really important things in this world, things that are so easy to take for granted.

I’m thankful for my time at MD Anderson, for the sea of faces that have become imprinted in my mind and heart and especially my prayers.

*I am recovering from my surgery. Next week I will be back at MD Anderson for a follow-up and to remove the bandages inside my ear. I’m praying the eardrum is healing nicely and the surgery did its job:)

Vacation Days…

2010-08-11T16:44:00.001-05:00

I can’t believe I’ve once again been away from blogging for 2 weeks! I have been visiting with family and having a blast. Unfortunately, we didn’t have working internet access for most of last week. So I fell behind once again.

I’m preparing to have my eardrum restructured and the surgery is scheduled for Monday. So my blogging may still be inconsistent for a little while longer. Sometimes the obstacles in our path can’t be dodged or ignored, so we must bulldoze right on through. I feel like that bulldozer right now. I’m just moving full steam ahead. Soon I hope things will slow and I will be able to look back and pick up some of the loose ends I cruised right by in all my haste.

I hope you all are enjoying the last days of summer. I must admit I am ready for fall to come. I will welcome the cooler weather with open arms!

Do you have plans for your last days of summer?

Art on the Go – BusPainting

2010-07-20T11:12:00.001-05:00

I posted this last week on my Home and Garden blog, but wanted to repost here. I love Kathleen’s work and it is just another example of artistry inspired by our surroundings. I believe she paints peoples stories, just as writers write them. The medium is different, but the passion the same. I hope you check out her work:)

I was so excited when my mother-in-law Pat introduced me over the internet to artist Kathleen McElwaine from Leander Texas. Kathleen does beautiful watercolors and on the bus!

She commutes on the bus into Austin twice a day and began a series of watercolors entitled BusPaintings. She says, “Early on when I began taking the bus, I did do some character studies of people riding the # 983 Express. But then I became hesitant, thinking that perhaps I might be imposing on a near stranger's personal space -- one's mobile sanctum. As a representational artist I constantly look for character … What are the distinguishing characteristics of people … plants and animals… skies or, landscapes?"

She now has an Etsy store and besides selling her beautiful artwork, she will create a watercolor profile picture for you to use on Facebook. She did my profile and I love it. Better yet my husband loves it. He thinks she captured my friendliness in the painting. That was sweet of him to say, I’ll have to bake him some brownies. Anyway, I want to share my picture with you.

I love it! The picture I sent her was one of me with no make-up, wearing the John Deere sweatshirt my father-in-law gave me. I think she captured my spirit wonderfully.

Please stop by her Etsy store or her website to look at her work. I’m already thinking of some Christmas gifts and maybe a few profile surprises for a couple of friends.

Thanks Kathleen!

Getting Sucked In

2010-07-15T14:31:00.001-05:00

So on Thursday I showed you this picture and asked you what you think happened. I loved your responses.

T. Anne thinks the black hole originated here. Definite possibility.

W Wendy Paine Miller’s theory of a golf cart full of javelin throwing fighters crashing through the house brings stories of time travel to mind.

Rebecca @ Diary of a Virgin Novelist story is priceless: “So, the wall of the house was being remodeled and it was covered in a temporary plastic sheet. Then some neighborhood kids got the idea to use it as sling shot, right? They loaded up everything they could find into the plastic and pulled it back deep into the depths of the house. Except, turns out the temporary wall was not made of plastic and made instead from a magical rubbery substance that was in the process of drying. BY the the time the kids pulled it back to launch all their stuff in the sling shot, it had frozen into place!

You all did great. When I first saw this house I imagined some sort of horizontal tornado that tore through the building. It is in Houston after all. Maybe a tornado spawned from a hurricane that spun onto land, bounced itself sideways and took off.

But the real story is in 2005 the Art League of Houston used these two houses to teach classes in. They were going to demolish them to build a new center, but first handed them over to two artists to make them into a piece of art. Pretty cool, huh? You can read more about this project here.

Sometimes we just need to get sucked into a new place, whether it is through pictures, artwork, or reading, and when we do our creative juices get flowing. Your ideas may never form a novel, but they do allow you to open up to new possibilities.

Thanks everyone who participated!

What Happened Here?

2010-07-13T13:16:00.001-05:00

Sometimes a place or event can inspire a story.

Tell me, what happened here?

On Thursday I’ll tell you what I think and where WB took the picture.

Are You Watching Me?

2010-07-08T08:19:00.003-05:00

I don't hate going to the gym because I don't like exercise, I don't like to go because there are people watching me! There is something very vulnerable about walking up to a new machine and trying to figure it out while sweaty men wander around flexing their muscles. The women don't bother me, I feel a sort of kinship with them. Most of them. Not the ones that look like they have been sculpted from marble and never birthed any children. Those I try to avoid.

My husband looks at me kind of strange when I tell him why I hate the gym.

Nobody is watching you, he assures me.

Really? But I watch everyone. Like that guy over there that every few minutes whips his towel in the air with one hand to quickly wrap it around his palm so he can wipe the sweat from his face. He must have grown up lassoing cows on his family's ranch. His parents sold the land to a developer to retire to Tahiti leaving their son to find a boring job sitting in an office. He no longer gets his exercise on the range so he must come to the gym during lunchtime to stay in shape. The towel roping is his only reminder of what used to be.

Husband shakes his head. Where do you come up with this stuff? No one is watching you.

Really, because everyone here has a story. Like that 80 year old man over there on the weight machine. See how he is working the circuit. He does a machine for a few reps, then stops and rests. Then does a few more. He spends about 10 minutes on each machine then slowly moves to the next and sits for 5 more minutes before beginning the new one.

And why is that? My husband looks at me skeptically.

Because he is a widow and lives by himself. His wife had a long battle with cancer and he spent nearly every penny of their retirement savings paying for her medical treatment. In desperation he made some risky investments and when the stock market crashed he was left with very little.

So he comes to the gym to drown his sorrows?

No, no. Because this is the hottest time of day. He can't afford to run the AC during the day, so he comes here. It is air conditioned and he can stay cool. Oh, and his shower is broken too. Don't ask, that's another sad story. So when he is done in here he goes to the showers in the locker room. Then he heads home in the late afternoon when his house will begin to cool off. But not before stopping by the grocery for a free cup of coffee that seniors get and to check out the samples for a little snack.

It's a wonder you even have time to worry if people are watching you? I promise people are not watching you!

Your wrong. See that guy in the very back corner on the treadmill?

Yes.

He's a writer.

How do you know?

Because he has positioned himself in a place where he can see everyone in this gym. He's not walking very fast and looks more bookey then bulky.

I don't think bookey, in that sense, is a word?

Whatever. He is a writer and right now he is trying to figure out our story. It's probably along the lines of Beauty and the Beast...

People watching, it's what we writers do. Where is your favorite place to people watch?

Passionate Pen

2010-07-06T17:06:00.001-05:00

This weekend our priest gave a rousing homily. He felt the need for the first time in 30 years to preach politics at the pulpit. The passion could be heard in the deep timbre of his voice and the empathetic gesturing of his robed arms. He ended with a heartfelt cry of “God Bless America”. Maybe not everyone agreed with his homily, but no one sitting in the pews listening doubted the passion he had for his topic.

It got me to thinking about how I write. I want to write with a passionate pen. My hopes is that people will read my writing and feel. Feel happy, motivated, sad, inspired, or maybe angry. I just want them to read my words and feel the passion for which they were written.

Have you ever read a book that was just words on paper? It might have had a plot and some decent characters, but when you put the book down you never thought of it again. I don’t want to write a book that is forgotten on the shelf. I’d like to write a story that moves the reader to laughter or tears. One that will stay with them long after they’ve finished.

What kind of pen would you like to write with?

Summer Break

2010-07-02T07:36:00.001-05:00

The summer is flying by and I find myself enjoying all the small moments that surround me. In the evenings I gaze at the storm clouds building on the horizon as the setting sun paints the clouds with vibrant colors.

I’ve been cheering on not only my husband, but my oldest daughter, as they compete in Triathlons.

I’ve been dreaming of baby booties, since my little sister is expecting her first baby around Christmas.

I’ve been writing and reading in the car, in the doctor’s offices, and during bath time.

But I’ve been absent from my blog and from visiting yours. I’m hoping to catch up after the 4th of July holidays. Sorry for my absence, but life is trying to fly by. And I’ve been trying to catch and hang on to every little moment before it gets away.

Happy 4th of July everyone!

Heart Matters

2010-06-11T16:27:00.001-05:00

Matters of the heart were on my list of priorities this week. Little One had her six month check-up with the cardiologist this week. She sat quietly through an EKG, an echocardiogram, and being hooked up to her heart monitor that she’d wear for 24 hours. It looks like we’ll be good for another 6 months as long as the monitor tests come back without anything new. God has blessed as with such watchful doctors, I know we are in good hands. Little One commented, “My heart doesn’t hurt Mom, does yours?”

The question made me think of things that does make my heart hurt. The list is longer than I’d like it to be, but we don’t live in a perfect world, so there will always be something that pains us. Something that gets our tempers riled or saddens us.

James Scott Bell wrote in his book Plot & Structure that one way to write a “story packed with emotion and dramatic possibilities” is to find issues that you care about, that press our “hot buttons”.

This led me to look over my current plot outline and see if there was anything that caused my blood to boil. There wasn’t anything too dramatic so I started playing with ideas. Sure enough I came up with a new element that I could put into my story to help bring out the drama.

So how about you, do you like to write about things that press your buttons or do you stay clear of issues that might seem too controversial?

Sweet Rewards and an Award

2010-06-02T17:11:00.001-05:00

I’m all about rewarding oneself for accomplishments and good behavior. We try to work on a reward system around the house for tasks completed. Whether it be schoolwork or housework, it always seems a little more fun if we know when we are finished we have something to look forward too.

Now, don’t get me wrong I strongly believe in being intrinsically motivated to finish a task as well. Giving yourself a high five for finishing that last chapter or revising it yet again. But I have to admit it isn’t bad to know that when you finish that chapter you’re going to indulge, in say, some chocolate dipped strawberries.

Right now I am plodding my way through several craft writing books and doing some exercises they suggest along the way. It can be tedious, especially when I am trying to keep my kids busy, stay on top of housework and entertain guests. I’ve found that if I put in several hours of domestic duties during the day I can reward myself with writing/reading time in the evening. So sometimes my reward IS writing.

What are some ways you like to reward yourself for tasks completed, especially writing ones?

Getting an award is just as fun as getting rewards. So I was thrilled when blogging buddy Jill Kemerer gave me this award!

Thank you very much Jill. I love reading Jill’s blog, so I’m happy to think we are soulmates:)

Instead of passing this on to just a few of you I’d like to give it to all of my blogging friends. I think since we are all on this writing journey together we share many common goals and interests, like soulmates.

So please accept this award and go eat some chocolate covered strawberries as a reward for being such a great writer!

Writing Craft Book Suggestions

2010-05-24T07:05:00.002-05:00

Happy Monday!

I have a question for you today. What is your favorite book about the craft of writing?

I’ve been reading the The Art of War For Writers by James Scott Bell. Several of my writing blogging buddies had recommended it, so I ordered it. I’m loving it. It’s simple and straightforward, yet packed with information.

So what writing book would you recommend to other writers?

Just a little story about mice and a crazy nursing woman....

2010-05-19T11:05:00.005-05:00

I planned on writing some very informative post about the writing process today, but I got distracted by three little words my husband uttered to me last night.

"Mouse in garage."

I shook my head, "What?"

"Oh, I saw a mouse in the garage this morning. Guess, I need to find the traps."

My heart began to beat a little faster and I felt the beginnings of a cold sweat. It's ridiculous really. As a science teacher I led dissections, held cockroaches, snakes and all sorts of critters. So why this thing with mice?

All I can say is that it started three years ago, when I was beyond exhausted with a newborn who wouldn't sleep or eat and two kiddos I was carting back and forth to school each day. And as I sat bleary-eyed on the couch trying to nurse, I witnessed first one rodent, then another, scurry under the couch. Fleeing to the upstairs, one ran out at me from my daughter's room while another rounded the corner of my bedroom. I made a hysterical phone call to my Dad at 6:30 in the morning. Oh never mind that he lived ten hours away, I needed my Dad. In the midst of my tears and hysteria I heard him say "Pest man". He also said get everyone in the car and get out of the house.

Now, don't get the wrong idea. My Dad did not believe for one moment that we were in any danger, not from the mice anyway. I believe he heard in my voice the beginnings of complete meltdown. I could barely talk, my heart was racing, and my entire body felt like it had been submerged in an ice bath. I remember telling him this on the phone and that if I saw one more mouse I wasn't sure what I might do. He knew the only way I was going to get my head on straight again was if I left the house. So I did.

We drove to Sonic. Isn't that where everybody goes when their house has become infested with mice? We parked, ordered breakfast, I nursed and waited until my husband would be out of his morning meeting so I could relate the whole ugly ordeal to him. I have a confession here. I seriously wanted WB to get in his car the moment he heard the news and come home. Tell the guys at work, "Hey, sorry. I know I have half a dozen meetings today and the refinery might shut down if I don't finish this project I'm working on causing gas prices to go to 6 dollars a gallon, but my wife is having a rodent crisis at home."

When I talked to WB he thought I should call the pest man,the one who advertised in the back of our church bulletin. It became clear he thought I was much more stable then I felt. He believed I could just walk back into that mouse house and wait for the pest guy. He had no idea, unlike my Dad, that his wife was loosing it. I think I told him fine I'd call, but I wasn't going back to the house until he came. WB responded with "Okay, that's fine. Just go do some shopping." I had a newborn and it was 8 in the morning, we went to the park.

I left a message with the pest man. Poor man, I think my message went something like this. "Hi, This is Kara. I got your name from the back of the church bulletin. I have a newborn and two little girls and this morning an army of mice invaded my house. (voice cracking) They are running under my couches, up and down the stairs, and in my children's bedrooms. We just moved to this house out in the country and I can't have mice running around with a little baby in the house." ( I'd been having these vivid images of mice chewing on my babies arms and toes while she innocently lay sleeping in her crib, I told you I was loosing it.) "Would you be able to come out today? I'm in town here's my cell number."

That sweet man called me back within the hour. He had the calmest, most fatherly voice. He told me that he would be there that afternoon. He assured me that I should not have mice in the house, especially with little ones running around. I felt relieved and just a little less crazy.

I met him at the house that afternoon. He had white hair and a white short beard with kind dark eyes. I liked him instantly. We had a long discussion about all the critters that live around my house. He told me why he used live traps vs. poison or snap traps. He told me that I probably only have a couple of mice, but that they run around a lot and I more than likely was seeing the same ones. He checked out my house and determined the only way in was through the back garage door. He told me they were looking for food and water and therefore, wouldn't stay upstairs for long. I think he was at my house for over an hour. Maybe he sensed my uneasiness. I'd like to think I wasn't the first hysterical woman he came across. He set up some live traps, told me to call if I needed anything and he'd see me next month.

I'd like to pause by saying that he or his partner come to my house once a month to spray the outside and to check on things. It's been three years now and every time I see their little white van pull into my driveway I always rest easier that night. Really, I'm thinking there needs to be a special award for Pest Men everywhere!

Here's the good news, it's three years later and I haven't been locked up in a little padded room somewhere. My baby finally started to gain weight and eat, we're getting better with the sleeping, and I am no longer an exhausted, worn out momma. Well, most days I'm not. I'd like to say the mice never returned to the house, but I can't. You can read here for a post on their return. Remember how I said "live" trap, well I bet you wondered what happened to the mice once they were caught. You might be surprised by my reaction to the captured little rodents that caused me such misery. You can read about that here and here.

So that's my story. All brought on by three little words. I'm off to find the live traps and trying not to think about the fact that I'm sure one of those critters is at this very moment watching me from inside my house.

Would you like to share a mouse story with me or just an "I'm just an exhausted momma, I'm not really crazy, story"? I'd love to hear:)

A Little Sunshine...

2010-05-17T06:00:00.000-05:00

Have I told you about one of my favorite new authors? I think I have, but if you haven't checked out Emily Ann Benedict's new book "Only Angels Are Bulletproof" you need to . I picked up her book after reading a review on Warren Baldwin's blog.

And so imagine my sweet surprise when I was reading her blog the other day and realized she had given me an award. Little ole me! Actually, I read her blog saw my name, but the link wasn't working and figured she probably knew some other Kara. But later she wrote to me on facebook and told me she had an award for me! The Kara was me after all, yippee. I was so happy because the award was the "Sunshine Award". It made me happy to know that even though it was raining cats and dogs in my part of the woods I was giving a little sunshine to someone else.

This week is supposed to be rainy so I'd like to pass on the sunshine to some of my blogging friends who always brighten my day. I'm only going to name a few of my writing buddies, but you all know I love each and every one of you, right?

Head over to their blogs for a little bit of sunshine this week:)

When to change direction?

2010-05-11T17:02:00.001-05:00

Okay, all my writing friends I have a question. When do you give up on a WIP or do you never? I have one that has been ongoing for a few years now. I think I have 3 or 4 versions about halfway through. It was started when I was taking writing classes, critiquing, and had two kids that were getting more independent so I had time etc.

The different versions stems from my lack of direction and trying to write a story that fit all these expectations, sometimes not even my own. I’d like to think I’m older and wiser now. That I’m ready to morph into a new being, or at least a different kind of writer.

I’m just so torn. Should I just walk away completely or try to salvage what I have even if it means another revision? What would you do?

Being A Mom

2010-05-09T17:58:00.001-05:00

Here’s the lady that inspired me to become the mother I am today. Yep, that’s my momma. Just by looking at this picture you already know some things about her. One she is beautiful, and she is just as beautiful on the inside. Two, she dedicated her life to helping others. Third, knowing the first two you know she must be a very caring person. And she is.

She taught me life lessons with quiet affirmations, gentle nudges, and a calm demeanor. She made childhood fun with her love of learning. Whether we were taking trips to visit Gettysburg or learning to macramé or pickling cucumbers from the garden, she always kept us entertained.

She taught my sister and I that blood is indeed thicker than water. That our sisterly spats were passing, but that sisterly love would carry us through our lives. She wished us to hold on to each other, and to lift each other up. And we have.

She taught us about God through her quiet faith, gentle reminders, and never-ending patience.

I knew when I became a mom I had much to live up to. I also knew she would only be a phone call away whenever I needed her. And she is.

Happy Mother’s Day Mom! I love you!

Mom, Emma, Sophie and I taken five years ago.

Guest Post (Part 3): 2010 BP MS 150 Ride from Houston to Austin

2010-05-02T00:05:00.003-05:00

Greetings again, EKAAH followers! Once again, this is WB, finishing my story of my participation in the BP MS 150 ride from Houston to Austin. The first two parts of my story can be found here and here. When I left off on my last post, I had just finished the 84 miles from Rhodes Stadium in Katy to the fairgrounds in La Grange, TX. It was bout 2:00 in the afternoon, and I had been riding since about 7:00 that morning. I was beat. However, before I could rest, I had to find the Team Total tent, and I had to find my family! I had my cell phone with me, and I knew that my supportive family was in the area. They had driven from Houston to spend the afternoon and evening with me.

The town of La Grange has a population of about 4,600. For one night in the spring, the small town hosts over 13,000 cyclists, their families, and volunteers. In order to do this, a tent city is constructed at the Fayette County Fairgrounds.

In case you are curious, this is what 13,000 bikes look like. If you figure that each bike costs $500 (probably a low estimate), then this parking area has $6.5 million worth of bikes in it!

Large cycling teams have one or more tents, and individual tents are pitched in open spaces. I made my way to the Team Total tent, where I met Reza. Although we had lost track of each other in the last part of the ride, we finished at about the same time. I parked my bike and found my assigned cot in the tent. Soon, I was joined by Kara and the kids. I then headed off to the showers.

Kara and the girls spent some time with my camera.

After I got back from the shower, I had learned that Reza had caught up with Cheryl (from the Mattress Firm team). It turns out that they had room for a couple more people in their tent, and they had actual mattresses to sleep on! Also, the Mattress Firm tent was close to the start line for the next morning’s ride. This proximity was important since I had a time constraint for Sunday’s ride. Kara and the kids helped me transport my bike and my gear to the Mattress Firm tent. I soon discovered that the Mattress Firm team had secured the best restroom facilities in the entire fairgrounds. Most of the other teams had port-a-potties, but Mattress Firm had rented an air-conditioned bathroom trailer! It was truly a luxury.

After the move, we all piled in to the minivan for a short trek to Smithville where we met my brother and his family, and our parents for dinner. Smithville is famous for being the setting for the movie Hope Floats (for you Sandra Bullock fans). It was great getting away from the hectic crowds in La Grange to spend some relaxing time with my extended family. Plus, the cousins seemed to have a good time with each other.

Here I’m looking pretty worn down with my daughters and their cousins in Smithville.

After dinner, Kara dropped me off in La Grange, and then took the kids to a clean, comfortable, quiet Hilton hotel room in Austin. As I settled in for the night, I tried my best to get some much needed sleep. Unfortunately, despite the wonderfully comfortable mattresses, I could not sleep. The tent houses about 30 people, and it started raining heavily around midnight. Between the sounds of the rain, and people getting up to go to the restroom and other disturbances, I did not sleep well at all. I had been advised to set my alarm at around 4:30 so that I could set my bike near the start line. I woke Reza so that he could do the same.

It was important that I got an early start on Sunday, since I had a plane to catch in Austin at 5:15 pm. Of course, that meant that I had to get to the airport at 4:15, and I had to shower and change prior to that. I was faced with some critical choices on Sunday. We could either choose the Pfizer Lunch Express route, or the Bechtel Challenge route. The Lunch Express route was supposed to be quicker along the main roads, but more boring. Also, the Lunch Express route was more open and exposed to headwinds.

The Bechtel Challenge route presented another choice: take the “park route” or bypass the park to the main roads. I had been advised that the park route was extremely hilly, but beautifully scenic. However, if it was wet, the park route would pose some serious hazards to cyclists. Several people relayed accounts of horrific wrecks on the wet, hilly roads in the park in years past. As I placed my bike in the pre-dawn drizzle close to the start line Sunday, I still did not know which route I would choose.

After securing our place near the start, Reza and I set out to search for coffee. We found some at a neighboring tent, and then we returned to pack up our belongings and stretch for the ride. All the time, I was pondering if I should play it safe and get to Austin in plenty of time to catch the plane, or challenge myself with the more adventurous route. As dawn neared, I soon realized the wisdom of placing my bike early.

It’s tough to tell from this picture, but at the 7:00 am start time the line of cyclists stretched back for probably a quarter of a mile or more. I was told that those in the back would not be able to start until two or three hours after the first riders set off.

Similar to the Saturday start, the rain had fortunately stopped by the time dawn broke. The weather forecast had showed that the line of rain storms would continue to move east, and that we should be dry for the rest of the day. That also meant that there would be a headwind as we travelled west. I chose to take the Bechtel challenge route, and I would assess the road conditions and decide on the park route when I got to that point.

Since I was under a time constraint, I knew I couldn’t stop and take pictures as often as I had on Saturday. However, as we rode along in the early morning, I soon heard the sounds of a bagpipe in the distance. Once again, bagpipe man had stationed himself along the route to entertain the riders. There was a large group clustered around him, so I only got a quick snapshot.

I would have liked to have had my picture with him, but I had to press on. When I came to the entrance of Buescher State Park the roads had started to dry out. I made the quick decision to take the park route.

The park route was truly an amazing cycling adventure. It was a roller coaster ride through a dense pine forest. Since the roads were still wet in places, I rode conservatively through the park. I achieved my top speed of the day at 37.9 mph on the park route down one of the hills, but I easily could have topped 40 mph or more. The route took us through Buescher State Park and the adjacent Bastrop State Park. At the end of the park route, we emerged from the pine forest in Bastrop, TX.

There was a lunch stop in Bastrop, but I elected to skip it and press on to Austin. At the next rest stop, I called Kara and let her know that I was getting close. The hills on the last few miles into Austin were brutal, but I had to keep pace. Soon, I could recognize the familiar urban setting of downtown Austin.

The welcome sight of the state capitol loomed ahead as I rounded the last turn towards the finish line.

Thousands of people had turned out to welcome us to Austin. I was exhausted, sore, chaffed, sunburned, and wind burned, but none of that seemed to bother me much as I rode through the crowds to the finish. I had made it!

I crossed the finish line at about 1:15 pm, which left me plenty of time to get cleaned up in time for my plane. I was certainly glad to see Kara at the finish!

I even managed to get a much needed nap in after a shower but before I had to be at the airport. The ride Sunday was nearly 75 miles, but it was definitely tougher than Saturday’s ride.

I was glad that I took the park route. I know that I would definitely have regretted not taking the challenge. We are already making plans for next year's ride!

Thanks for letting me share my story!

-WB

Guest Post (Part 2): 2010 BP MS 150 Ride from Houston to Austin

2010-04-25T07:44:00.040-05:00

Greetings EKAAH hugs followers! This is WB, and this post is a continuation of the story of my participation in the 2010 BP MS 150 bike ride from Houston to Austin. In two days, I rode approximately 160 miles along with 13,000 others as part of a fundraiser for the Multiple Sclerosis Society. The first part of my story can be found here.

Like most people, I thought I knew how to ride a bike and how to ride safely (wear a helmet, ride on the right hand side, adhere to traffic laws, etc.). However, I had not participated in a large group ride before, so I still had lots to learn. Fortunately, the MS Society had published some very good information about ride safety. As we embarked from Rhodes Stadium in Katy, I learned very quickly from the experienced bikers in the group that good communication was the key to preventing accidents. In the ride, bikes were clustered within a few feet of each other, travelling at speeds of 20 mph or more. If a rider does happen to fall, then often others will not be able to stop in time, and a pile-up results. I got used to calling out, "Passing on your left!" Bikes don't have brake lights, so verbal cues of "Slowing!" or "Stopping!" are necessary when riding in a group. Dropped water bottles and other road hazards are identified to other riders along the route as well. I only witnessed one wreck during the ride, and because of the good communication it wasn't very serious; no one was hurt.

My strategy for the day was to take it easy on Saturday. I didn't want to wear myself out since I knew that I had a deadline on Sunday. I planned on stopping and taking pictures along the way to document the experience, too.

As the ride progressed, we came to rest stops that were located about every 10 miles along the way. Snacks and drinks were available at the stops. Port-a-potties were lined up for bikers' relief as well.

Here Reza is snacking during one break. At the start, I told him that he wouldn't need that rain jacket any longer, but he didn't listen to me. That's probably why he looks so grumpy.

In my previous post, I mentioned the spectators that were lined up along the way to cheer on the riders. This family provided some musical entertainment as well. Yes, that is a washtub bass. These guys were good!

Since they are a John Deere family, I had to get a picture with them :)

For the most part, the geography around the Houston area is coastal plains, which is relatively flat. On Saturday, we enjoyed a slight tailwind, which along with the 70 deg. F temperature and overcast skies made for some pleasant riding.

About mid-morning, we stopped in Bellville for lunch. Although we didn't ride past it, Bellville has its own castle, complete with moat and drawbridge.

Reza finally removed his rain jacket, so that's probably why he looks happier now. Team Total provided a nice pavilion with sandwiches for lunch. It was nice to have a break from the fray, but the clouds were dissipating, so we didn't stay long at lunch.

As we continued to ride inland towards the center of the state, we began to encounter gentle rolling hills. Here I'm riding in to Fayette County, of which La Grange is the county seat.

Spring in central and southeast Texas was unusually wet in 2010, so the wildflowers were abundant. I kept wanting to stop and get pictures along the way, but for the most part I resisted the temptation in the interest of making progress. However, I couldn't resist stopping and getting a picture in front of this field.

At about 63 miles into the ride, the citizens of Fayetteville turned out to cheer us on. We all appreciated the encouragement! I was starting to run out of steam at this point, and needed all the support I could get.

I didn't know it after leaving Fayetteville, but the hills would get steeper and more frequent. Finally, at about 2:00 in the afternoon, I made it into La Grange.

According to my trip computer, I completed 84 miles. According to my legs, I was very very tired. Although I had tried to take it easy, I was still pretty worn out. This was the longest ride I had ever done in one day, and I was glad to have it behind me. We had great weather, and I had no wrecks, no flats, and no mechanical problems with the bike. Reza and I had lost track of each other between Belleville and La Grange, but it turns out that we arrived in La Grange within minutes of each other.

This post has gone a bit longer than I expected, so the next post I will tell about the adventures of camping in La Grange, and the multiple challenges of Sunday's ride into Austin.

Guest Post: 2010 BP MS150 Ride From Houston to Austin (Part 1)

2010-04-21T04:10:00.002-05:00

Greetings, EKAAH blog followers! This is WB, and I'm going to take this opportunity to post an update on Kara's blog. She's been encouraging me to compose a post for a while now, and so I'd like to share the story of a bike ride I completed this past weekend.

Last year a consultant that I work with invited me to be on his team for the BP MS 150. The BP MS 150 is an annual bike ride from Houston to Austin held to raise funds to help those with multiple sclerosis lead better lives. Multiple sclerosis is a degenerative nerve disease that has no known cause or cure. However, with the support of fundraising from the National MS Society, advances in research give hope to those who live the the disease.

The National MS Society conducts bike rides throughout the country, but the BP MS 150 is one of the oldest and currently one of the largest events. The first ride was held 1985, and 237 cyclists participated. This year, it is expected that over 13,000 riders made the 2-day trek from Houston to Austin. In 2009, over $17 million was raised in the event.

My first exposure to the event was a few years ago when Kara's sister participated. I was inspired by the challenge of riding over 150 miles in two days, and the fact that Kara's sister completed it while she was still in high school. In the last few years, I have been becoming increasingly involved in triathlons, but I have been seeking new challenges. When Reza invited me to be on his team for the BP MS 150, I readily accepted.

Day 1: Saturday
The ride is split into 2 days. The first day has three different starting locations around Houston, and all three routes converge on the way to La Grange, TX.

Reza and I started with several thousand other cyclists at Rhodes Stadium in Katy. There was a slight drizzle Saturday morning, and we were all hoping it would clear up. Here I am with Reza and Cheryl (one of Reza's friends). Cheryl is on the Mattress Firm team (this will become important later).

Although technically I was on Reza's team, we needed to secure lodging overnight in La Grange. Reza had friends on the Team Total, so we temporarily joined their team and got their jerseys.

The rain seemed to clear up as we lined up for the start. I would like to mention that I have never participated in a ride this large. Despite the dreary weather, there was anticipation and excitement in the air.

Daylight broke, the rain abated, and we were off! I crossed the start line right at 7:00 am.

Before too long we settled down into a comfortable pace. Police, state troopers, and sheriff's deputies were positioned at intersections along the route to block traffic and ensure safe riding. Pockets of spectators waved as we rode by. At one point as we were riding out of Katy, I heard the surreal sound of bagpipes in the distance. As I got closer, I saw a gentleman through the fog playing a Great Highland bagpipe and wearing the full traditional dress (more on him later).

The miles started to tick off, but I knew it was going to be a long day.

Stay tuned for the continuation of the story of the ride, and hear what happens when over 13,000 bicyclists and their support crews converge on a town with a population of just over 4,600!

While I'm Away...

2010-04-20T20:46:00.003-05:00

I've been out and about and around and around the last couple of weeks. This time of year gets a little crazy! I just wanted to let everyone know I am still alive and kicking.

WB is working on a guest post for me about his 150 mile bike ride he took this last weekend. He continues to be an inspiration for me and I can't wait for him to share some of his thoughts with you.

I promise to be back soon and I can't wait to catch up with all of you!

Hugs,
Kara

Turning 3

2010-04-05T16:24:00.004-05:00

My Little One turned 3 on Good Friday. She was so very excited to finally be three! I wish I could have bottled her excitement for turning another year older and unleashed it on my next birthday. She was truly a joy to watch.

We had a party for her the week before with some of her Kindermusik friends. This is a neat class we go to each week to sing, dance, and play instruments. Ms. Celeste, her teacher, hosted the party in the church's basement where we have our classes.

"Reading" her card to her sisters.

The sweet alligator cupcake cake she asked her big sis Em to make for her!

We celebrated again on her actual birthday. In fact, she woke up early that morning to run into her sisters room to wake them up and let them know "I am finally three!".

That night as she cuddled with me before bedtime she whispered into my ear, "I hope my next birthday comes soon!" I smiled as I kissed her goodnight reminding myself to treasure the next 365 days because no doubt her birthday will come sooner than I am ready for!

This Journey...

2010-03-31T09:58:00.008-05:00

Sometimes this path we are on seems like there is no end in sight. Or our journey may put us on a path not many others are traveling. It's easy to to feel lonely. We let all our doubts and insecurities overtake us. It makes us question who we are. What our purpose is.

We see angry storm clouds ahead which fill us with fear. Looking over our shoulder the thought of fleeing is strong. But our faith keeps us pushing forward, knowing we have a purpose. That there is a plan for us, even when there are times that plan is not clear to us.

And I believe when we reach the end of the road there will be dancing and joy. The celebration will be jubilant. His purpose for us will be realized. And His promise to us will be recognized.

How do you feel about the journey you are on?

Journal Keeping For Writing Ideas

2010-03-24T18:25:00.003-05:00

I keep a notebook in my purse, my car and next to my bed. I should probably go high tech, but sense I don't own an iphone or ipod my little notebook works just fine. In fact, my ten year old had to just edit my spelling of iphone. I wanted to say i-phone, she shook her head and pushed my hands away to fix my errant ways!

Anyway, you may ask why I do this and I'll tell you. The best ideas for my writing always come to me when I'm juggling a phone, a child and the groceries. Something snaps, and I think , "Wow, that would be a great plot." I used to be able to remember what great idea came into my head until I had a pen and paper or the computer to jot it down. Not so any more my friends. These days I can barely remember where I stashed the car keys as my toddler bolts out of the car in the parking lot. I've learned to have pen and paper handy at all times.

What is my notebook full of you might ask? Well, I'll tell you:) I have favorite quotes, description of places, plot ideas, and character profiles. One night I had this amazing dream. I woke up and realized it was just the start to a story. I stared up at my ceiling for a good hour as the rest of the story came to me. I didn't dare go back to sleep until I had written down an outline of my dream story. I got up stubbed by toe on the end of the bed, hopped around in silent agony, as to not wake my husband and quietly went in search of pen and paper. Minutes later my husband awoke to the crashing sound of the kitchen drawer dropping on the floor. I learned two things. Never go wandering around your house in the dark. And keep pen and paper on the bedside table.

I love my notebooks, because they are little snippets of not just writing ideas, but of the life around me. Sometimes thumbing through them I have vivid images of the day I wrote a certain quote down. Or I recognize the sticky smudge from a lollipop on a page my daughter left as we waited at the doctors office.

Do you have a system for keeping your thoughts and ideas organized? I'd love to hear.

A Change In Direction

2010-03-17T09:18:00.002-05:00

I feel like I am sort of floundering around here at Eskimo Kisses and Air Hugs. When I started this blog almost three years ago my hope was to share stories and family life for our friends far away. Then it turned into a way for me to just share stories. Then I broke my blog off into four parts dealing with our new homeschool adventure, one for crafts, and one about home and garden. This one became dedicated to my writing.

I've met some amazing writers and friends through this blog . But here is my problem I'm running out of things to say. My writing journey is a very slow one, by choice, and I feel most of you are far ahead of me in this journey. I'm happy about that because I'm learning so much from you. You are guiding me along my path.

Right now my blogs and my family column are my writing. Very rarely do I get a chance to sit down and write like I used to. I'm finally at peace with that. God has lead me to this point in my life and I feel I need to follow the path He has given me.

So my plan for now is to blog here once a week and keep up with all your blogs as you post. My passion right now is to concentrate my writing on my Home and Garden blog and until the summer break my Homeschool blog. I'd love to have you catch up with me at one of those blogs during the times I'm not writing here. Probably won't be talking much about the art of writing over there, but I'll teach you all about driving tractors, feeding the Christmas fox, and my kids cooking adventures!

So I'll leave you with this today:

May the Irish hills caress you.
May her lakes and rivers bless you.
May the luck of the Irish enfold you.
May the blessings of Saint Patrick behold you.
~Irish Blessing

Commitment and A Winner

2010-03-12T14:49:00.005-06:00

So many times I have wanted to put the words away and just give up. I don't have the time to write. I certainly don't have hours to put into reading about the art of writing. I look at the market and tell myself there is no way that out of all these writers I will get a break and get published. So I should just stop writing.

Excuses, how easy they are to make. Commitments, how difficult they can be to keep.

WB and my sister before the Turkey Trot last fall.

My sister is visiting this weekend and she helped to remind me of commitments. She'll be competing in her first Half Iron Man competition in Orlando in May. She recently moved from sea level to the mountains of Colorado, which makes training even more difficult because she has not acclimated to the altitude change yet. But through all this she dedicates each day of her life to training. It doesn't matter if she has had a long day at work or the weather is bad, she will be pushing herself to be better. Right now she is out for a 20 mile bike ride even though the wind is gusting up to 30 mph and the wind chill is in the low 40's. She knows what it takes to get to her goal and she sticks to it. Her words are "Every tough workout I have I just tell myself how much sweeter crossing that finish line will be."

As a writer I need to use that same philosophy. Set my goals and stick to them. There will be days those goals seem impossible to achieve, but I have to at least try. When I cross that finish line I want to look back with a smile on my face. I want to know I worked hard, didn't give up, and finished the race.

Now to switch gears, the winner of the Limerick poem was difficult for WB to pick. He took his job seriously and reread each one for all sorts of technical and creative points. But the one he liked the most was Elizabeth's. That you so much to everyone who joined in. I was truly stuck on finishing that limerick and I loved each one!

Do you know what is it going to take for you to finish the race?

Limericks And A Little Fun Give Away

2010-03-09T09:16:00.007-06:00

St. Patrick's Day is next week and around here we're already going green. Green with shamrocks, little leprechauns, and all sorts of Irish fun. Over on my homeschool site we've started a whole unit on such things and I thought I might share a little bit of the fun here with you.

The girls will be learning about and writing limericks during this unit. I remember writing a book of Limericks when I was in 5th grade. I still have it, somewhere. I know one starts out like this:
There once was a rat,
He was really fat,
He went to the store,
Slipped on a wet floor
As he swat a gnat.

Very deep stuff. The poems are very silly and don't make much sense, but I did manage to learn the a a b b a rule. Where the a's all rhyme and have the same number of syllables and the b's rhyme and have the same syllables.

Okay so I've been sweating over this limerick and need your help with the last line. I thought it would be fun to see what people come up with.

Once long ago was a freckled lass who loved to write,
But nowadays she’d look at her stark blank page in fright,
Interrupted by laundry, cleaning and tots left her frazzled
Gone were the days that words came quickly and left others dazzled

???

Okay friends, could you help me finish the last line of my limerick? My girls have put together a little St. Patrick's Day basket for the most creative finishing line. My husband, WB, will be picking the winning line and I'll announce it on Thursday.

Luck of the Irish to you!

From My Heart

2010-03-05T09:28:00.005-06:00

Well friends it's been one of those weeks! I kept trying to post here and just didn't know what to say. My life has been full of homeschooling, reorganizing, and playing in the warm sunshine with the kids. My heart has also been heavy. Weighed down by hurtful attacks by others against loved ones.

I've spent many hours this week in prayer and reflection. I've rallied to remember I am a follower of Jesus and should act accordingly. Whenever feelings of anger over the situation have consumed me I have sought peace in prayer. I pray not only for my family, but for the offenders. I know that I can not change their hearts or minds, that only God can do that. So I pray.

Then early this morning yet another kick in the gut. A betrayal by someone who was considered a friend. Who we invited into our home on several occasions, celebrated the birth of their child, and brought food to when they were in need. A person who has been given every excuse in the past for their sometimes rude behavior and been given the benefit of the doubt by my loved one. Turns out they have been spreading hateful untruths about my loved one to anyone who would listen over the last year. Even as we were welcoming them into our home they were full of hatred.

I was blinded by feelings of anger and betrayal. How dare these people spew hatred, spread untruths, and hurt a good man. How dare they! Through my own haze of hate and thoughts of what I was going to say to this person when I saw them I heard a voice. It very clearly said, "Remember my walk." I sat with head bowed and felt very humbled. Did Jesus not walk a path filled with hatred, betrayal, and untruths? And yet he forgave and kept walking. He walked right to his death. To die for those same people that hurt him, so that they might have life.

During this Lenten season I am trying to remember that. I know that there is no room in my heart for anger and bitterness. I humbly ask for your prayers. I know that forgiveness must be given to lift this burden off my family. I also know that this is such a small sacrifice for an amazing gift given to me on a Friday long, long ago.