Home again

He's back and he's fiesty. Herbie reveals short term memory loss, running away from his own master-dad. I had fractional adjustment syndrome: you get to re-know a person one piece at a time, like a slow computer that warms up in chunks of information retrieval. We're all headed to Rockport for the weekend, which means grandparents and other rauctious family, beach and Java Bay Cafe.

this one's for you

Rachel, really. http://librarianguish.blogdrive.com/

up against the fence line

Boundaries: do you know when to say "Yes" and when to say "No"? Do you know how to take control of YOUR life? Maybe, maybe not. What exactly does he mean by control? Where's the love?

I'm learning.

little darlin

The truck gets her outing today. Even without a current registration. Even without a bath. Great new idea comes to me: the newspapers will all fit perfectly in her bed. Responsibility deferred.

Reduce -Reuse -Recycle

Jack Johnson sings for us to sing along and learn how it is we should act in a global community. I love recyling. The whole process is about organization of junk, like catagorizing the weeds in one's garden, lining them up for execution. When I have a garden, I compost the weeds. When I reside near a recycling center, I recycle my trash.

A great whale of a box is beached upon our back porch. I can't lift it; Eric's not here; the box is falling apart anyway. It must be repackaged to be stowed in the car. The street dumpster is only a few steps away from our backdoor--and a wicked thought crossed my mind this afternoon: who would ever know if I simply loaded all those thousands of half-read Caller Times pages into the garbage bin? What exactly would be wasted? I would be reducing (the trash heap on my porch and in my laundry closet). One principle out of three would have been fulfilled. But Eric would have saved them all for nothing. And that I cannot let go to waste.

Herbie has a flea

It and many flea brothers set up a colony upon Herb's back, thinking they discovered a New World. Immergency baths were inflicted upon Herblets. Fleas died in the flood. Yet a Noadic family survived. Frontline liquid Marines were called upon and dispersed throughout the hills and valleys of Herbiville. Eagerly, we await the dawn, when Frontline shall have its effect and the carnage of flea carcases lie unburied on the desert of Herb's tummy.

It's a boy!

Gilbert Kirk McClelland was born this morning to Kristin and Alan at 11:18 CST, weighing 7lb plus some ounces. Grandmamma Linda was there for his birth in Jackson, Mississippi. Great delivery reported and all is well.

'Summer living is about comfort--and romance'

My romantic half is in El Centro, aspiring to fly patterns over the desert ground there. He's much better at hard work than me; he breathes jet fuel for breakfast and dines on jet logs for dinner. When it comes to siesta space, I take over to recreate the perfect playground for the weary--which may be mere rearrangement of furniture. Creativity, like muscles, must be excercised before enjoyed.

what we do with ourselves

I study Pottery Barn catalogues and avoid the newspaper. I claim no news snobbery, but seek a maximum pleasure for time spent in publicised pages, and PB offers an inspiration that borders on lust--for bedsheets and bath towels. Who could resist a company that offers subtle advice along with the product to produce an ultimately satisfying sleeping experience?

My scarred lamp perched on a little WalMart self-assemble bookshelf reminds me that I need to get black polish to cover the scrape, OR I could read my new Boundaries, OR I could calligraph the cards due to a bonnie friend, OR I could make some brownies for dinner with the girls tonight, OR I could be electrocuted. It seems wise to start with the brownies and work backwards.

John Baillie

His most popular work of writing is A Diary of Private Prayer, but he was known in his native Scotland as a professor in Edinburgh and Toronto, and moderator of the General Assembly of Church of Scotland in 1943. His Diary contains morning and evening prayers beautifully composed as if hymns of creation, echoing, "and it evening and it was morning, the first day." In his prayers, like Psalms, I find words to name the unruly feelings of my own heart and turn them out in the round pen for roping and branding.

business days

We rise up, work, eat again, lie down to sleep. The work of the day may have little to do with what we'd rather be devoted to--and what after all have we made our little gods today? Discipline and devotion are much talked about, incredibly well done sometimes, and when we sit down to consider our accomplishments, we more often berate ourselves for a job left half done than to take pleasure in the wonder of what meagre progress we realised. Because of the work of God in creation, it is Christlike to begin and finish a thing and be able to declare "it is good." We crave a sense of accomplishment, but for good to actually be done, we must find ourselves in Christ a clean conscience, worthy of praise, because he accomplished a great good work in us.
http://www.apu.edu/facultywritings/ssumner/20040615/

whimsical Canadian artist

http://itsawhimsicallife.blogspot.com/

Episcopal children's affairs

An inside view of an urban church working with children:http://sundaypaperblog.blogspot.com/

In looking for Lisbeth Zwerger's artwork, I've found some nice childrens' book artists and blogsites to share......http://community.livejournal.com/storybookland/