Bam! Cuteness. Don’t you love how I put a picture of my adorable little girl right up front so as to influence your perception of this post?
Ok, that wasn’t really my intention, but it works (maybe).
My little one seems to have a fondness for books already, and I couldn’t be more proud. Her favorite thing to do is to get into her closet and throw out all of her board books. Then, she’ll splay them out all over her bedroom floor, and give each one a little nibble.
I hope that this enthusiasm for the printed word sticks with her. My dream is that one day, she’ll be “hungover” from an all-nighter with her favorite piece of fiction, unable to tear herself away from the pages.
I was lucky enough to grow up …
I have a confession to make. I am terrified of flying. I love to travel, I love airports, I even love rolling my suitcase around like I’m somewhat important.
I just hate the actual flying part. Takeoff is probably the worst, but then there’s that moment mid-flight when you’ve finally calmed down and you realize, “Crap!,” I’m suspended thousands of feet above the ground with no way out. Maybe that’s what I don’t like, the lack of control.
I have a trip to Chicago on Tuesday, and while I’m excited to go where “nobody knows my name,” my stomach has been turning in knots ever since I booked our trip on Expedia.
So, any suggestions for making the skies a little friendlier?
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not “anti-tolerance.” I just think it’s time we move beyond it. We teach and preach tolerance, when really, we need to extend ourselves to love.
The Googleictionary has three definitions for tolerance:
1. Tolerance is the quality of allowing other people to say and do as they like, even if you do not agree or approve of it.
2. Tolerance is the ability to bear something painful or unpleasant.
3. If someone or something has a tolerance to a substance, they are exposed to it so often that it does not have very much effect on them.
Does that really sound like the way we want to live? I understand they underlying premise, that we need to better understand our fellow man/woman and not …
A good man does the dishes
A great man does them without being asked
A good man tells you he loves you
A great man shows you he loves you
A good man changes the baby’s diaper
A great man sings to her and makes her laugh while doing it
A good man asks you to dance at a wedding
A great man twirls you around the kitchen when there’s no music playing
Thank God I’ve found a great man.
“Look what y’all are missing,” said the e-mail from my sister yesterday. Attached were six or seven pictures of the bluebonnets in bloom in Texas, and I’ll admit, they were very beautiful. She said this jokingly, I assume, because she lived in Arlington, TX for several years after she was first married, and my husband and I moved to Salado, TX three weeks after we tied the knot. Our stay was short-lived, but I’m glad we went.
I miss my husband’s family in the Austin area, and we miss the easily-found live country music halls, but other than that, there’s no place I would rather call home than Kansas. I find the flatness truly calming, and the sunsets cannot be beat. Although I’m terrified of tornadoes, and dream of dying in one nearly every …
Long story short, my husband and I bought 82 acres near my hometown a little more than two years ago. We have 30 acres of trees with a creek running through it, and 52 tillable acres that we lease to an old farmer named “Cleets” (aka Cletus). We moved a farmhouse 11 miles and paid through the nose to have electric lines brought in (if you ever want to know how much it is for a mile’s worth of power lines, I’m your woman). We plopped the house down in the middle of the field and called it home.
We’ve endured eyelid-peeling winds from every direction, with no mature trees nearby to buffer the constant beating. It wasn’t uncommon to have snow blow in through our patio door, and my Swiffer cowers in the corner underneath …