Many Slices: my stories and photos

used books, bursting blooms, & rummage sales

OK all you children of the '90s:

Can I see a show of hands?

Who else remembers The Sweet Valley Twins?

Jessica and Elizabeth Wakefield. I loved them!

They made about a million of these short chapter books.

And a bunch of unfortunate spin-offs.

I think I read all of the original series.

Then several weeks ago at the Ithaca Library Book Sale I spotted a bunch of them and  just had to buy the primo first one in the series on Amazon, of course.

I love library sales.

We hit up this monster one on the last weekend, and picked up over 80 books for 9 bucks!

A portion of the titles purchased.

We are jump starting our 2nd annual books for ice cream Summer reading incentive. It's a way to get my girl excited about reading, not turning into couch potatoes, and keep me nominally sane during the Summer vacation coming up.

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Another reason to love book sales.

I absolutely love those circa 1950-1970s picture book that you can always find at these sales at the end, since most people have never heard of them, and they are worn.

But I just love finding and flipping through them.

The aged sepia color of often turned pages.

The old book smell.

In my collection of picture books I have noticed that, much like my home decorating, and wardrobe, I unconsciously am drawn to certain colors, prints, and styles.

The illustrator of the above book, Adrienne Adams, is a favorite.  It was not until I came home that I realized I had one of her books.  While tossing 10 cent books into our bulging sack I just grabbed whatever book's illustrations and plots immediately grabbed me. She wrote and illustrated in the 60s and 70s.  A favorite series is the Orson Bunny books, along with others here is her page on Amazon.

Charlotte Zolotow's books are favorites too.

Oh, What a Busy Day by Gyo Fujikawa being our all time favorite picture book.  Each one of my girls loved this one. We wore out the first copy and had to buy another when The Babe came along.

All these authors and artists have beautiful water colors, pencil sketches, and sweet story lines that beautifully capture and stick with a child's widening mind as she delves into the wonderful world of book.

And as Kathleen Kelly, owner of Shop around the Corner once said,

                   "No other reading in your life effects you the way reading does as a child.  It becomes as part of you and then determines who it is you are going to be...and I've...I've gotten carried away"

                                                                            ~You've Got Mail

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Speaking of getting carried away, I was supposed to just reminisce about Sweet Valley Twins....

Anyway,

After our early, early spring, and then really cold April my garden was green, green, green for about 3 weeks.  And I am not talking about good for the environment kinda green.  I'm taking boring bloom-less leafy and weedy green.

But all that changed as temperatures soared and warm rains fell just this past week:

Wild clover springing up in front of my "te jardin" sign.

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Rich spikes of royal purple Russian Sage

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Delicate lavender pin cushions

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Dapples of cheery shades of pink against lush greens and white metal. One of my favorite color contrasts.

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Some old metal garden art.

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And then there are my bending peonies poking through my porch rails.  Such a lovely sight to see as I step out first thing in the morning.

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This does not even showcase my roses.

That will be for another post.

I know, I know.  Clearly more pictures of my garden are needed...these 17 were not enough!

 

Moving along, following the outline of my handy title above....

One cannot put ones house on the market without one cleaning out junk, basements, and attics, and then having a rummage sale:

The big girls could not get enough of this joke.

The selling of lemon-aide and bouquets of flowers simply must accompany any sale.

All in all these books and flowers are a jolly good start to Summer.

Here's to blogging way  too late at night... pretending using words like "jolly good" is normal.

Cheers.

Negative growth

I have been hearing "No" quite regularly for quite awhile.

Not from my contentious children.

From my Heavenly Father.

It came sure, but with relief, but still with pain last month.

It came in early May, when we realized that if we wanted to change the way we handled our finances and get out of debt, we could not get the house and apple farm we fell in love with.

Its resounding again as our house sits, with no perspective buyers browsing through our house, and the next school year looms up. We were so ready to leave our city school district and happily put our kids into a smaller country school.

Summer vacation starts in 4 weeks.

Summer vacation lasts only ten.

A closing on a house takes six to eight.

We don't want to pull our kids out of school once it starts.

Our local school district is in a messy flutter with proposals of cuts, re-locating of students, shutting down of schools, slashing of jobs and programs.  Rumors changing daily.

And I do not know what to do about it.

Uncertainty- it's flying thicker than the Spring pollen in the air.

I am choking on it.

I'm choking on it, it seems, in just about every aspect of my life. I feel it in the big stuff and the not so big stuff. But, any fool knows it is usually the "not so big stuff" that gathers into a big scary problem.

Really, I am not a worrier.

Rare for a mother of young child I know.

Everything balances out however, including vices.

I am a controller.

An un-certain future, equates in my mind, as a vanishing path, well laid for my family's well being. A cast aside game plan I planned on to roll my sleeves up and charge into.

The bi-product is heavy.

Constant tension.  An un-named and hazy weight so heavy on my shoulders and upon mind some days I cannot even concentrate.  To accompany my inward whirling- the faithful companion of a critical spirit and a sharp tongue.

Earlier this week I knew I had a choice to make.

The psychological, physical, spiritual discomfort WILL build and build to something ugly.  I don't want to be forced to pick up the broken pieces of ugly till I finally get a grip and do what I have to do.

 

For starters, I cut way back (though not cold turkey, cuz who is that disciplined? or wants to be?) on caffeine, sugar and alcohol consumption.  What we slosh down our gullet, effects how crazy we act, especially during times of stress.  Of that I am certain.

Also, every morning I have been reading and reading.  Praying and praying.

Not some warm fuzzy uplifting anecdotes, and not to some unknown cosmic universal force.

I read straight from the source, the bottle of God's Word.  Hold the diluting ice please.  No sugar-laden syrup-y additives, and don't even think about adding one of those stupid pink umbrellas in it.

I called upon Jesus.

I asked helped from someone who knows about suffering.  About brokenness.  About just how ugly the ugly stuff is.

The only One strong enough and pure enough to alleviate the heaviness and wash away the ugly.

This verse stood at full attention as I opened up and sought out on Sunday morning.

Psalm 106: 15

And He gave them their request; but sent leanness into their soul.

And the re-joiner was found on Monday morning.  In a completely different book, based on a chapter my Pastor quoted speaking about something completely different:

Jeremiah 31:12b, 14b & 25

and they shall flow together in the goodness of the Lord, for wheat, and for wine, and for oil...and their soul shall be a watered garden.

My people shall be satisfied with my goodness.

For I have satiated the weary soul and I have replenished every sorrowful soul.

 

All week I could not get this out of my mind. 

And sure, lots and lots of other thoughts fought and wrestled for prominence as I found myself dazing out while wiping counters, cutting up food, and folding laundry.

I had to ask my family for forgiveness more than once.

Chances are high I will have to ask again; maybe even by tonight.

I had to humbly take advice I often had given.

But I keep seeking The Word, I kept telling Christ "I can't handle it".

I said the Words I read, out loud.  I said, out loud, that Jesus could handle it.  Wants to handle it.

So now it's Wednesday. I like Wednesdays. 

My laundry is caught up.  My house is no longer disgusting from a weekend of no cleaning. Mr. MS usually cooks on Wednesdays.

The image of "the lean soul" the "satiated soul" the image of "the wheat, the wine, the oil" culminating to that "watered garden" were so striking in my mind's eye.  I have always seen everything in images.  It is why I suppose I love photography and good descriptive writing so much. To me it solidifies those abstract ideas of truth, no matter what the subject, you are trying to get a hold of and say "Yes, that's it!  That is what I am setting my sights on".

This is what I wrote down in my journal after writing down those above verses yesterday, and then I promise I will be quiet.

"It seems God deprives our Earthly wants to feed and fatten up our spiritual man.  If only I could be satisfied with His spiritual Manna, while being thankful and mindful of the earthly Manna of my needs He faithfully provides every day. And believe He will continue to do so today and forever more"  

It smarts-this negative growth.  This not getting what you wanted, but then getting what you needed.    

Here's to divine metaphors to keep "the crazies" away.

Cheers.      

 

the boss man's birthday

 

Here's my contribution to what has become my favorite photo link up sites:

Shadow Shot Sunday 2

When you are not into buying presents:

When you were NOT blessed with being born with at least one sentimental bone is your body:

When romantic over-nites are not in the ole' budget:

You answer the oft asked question of:

"so whatcha' doing for Tim's birthday?"

with one word:

"EATING"

We love food.

Good food.

And this entire weekend starting with last nite's dinner, is gonna be a smorgasbord of good eats.

I made Panzanella (an italian bread and tomato salad) with cut up turkey sausage.  I used the recipe from Ellie Krieger's book So Easy. the full step by step recipe is right here 

last night I added  to it: 

 *cut up peeled zucchinis, slivered carrots, fresh basil pan grilled in butter then threw the sausage in.

 *Also added spinach cuz I like leafy greens in my salad (and the kids won't touch tomatoes, just like every other child living in the Western hemisphere)

*Awesome with chilled white wine

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I ran and got bagels at a favorite local bakery early this morning and grilled up the birthday boy's into an egg, cheese, n basil bagel sandwich.

We took ours to the front porch swing. Balancing mugs of steaming starbucks coffee and our bagels. The early morning shadows falling behind us and birds singing for us is my favorite part about Saturday.

The big girls are busy mixing, measuring, pouring and sampling his decadent birthday dessert-

involving but not limited to:

*cookie dough

*ghirardelli dark chocolate brownies

*fudge frosting

*peanut butter frosting

*drizzled carmel

*a sprinkling of Reese's cups

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Tonight's big birthday meal is our favorite Surf n' Turf meal:

*shrimp

*crab legs

*sirloin steak

*with a side of twice baked potatoes

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Sunday after church we are heading to one of our favorite places to drive- (its like the state of Vermont condensed into one town) Ithaca, NY.

We will again be eating good fattening stuff at one of Mr.MS's favorite eateries-

Moe's Mexican Restaurant (its like a subway with cilantro and salsa on a burrito) but tastes way better.

Then, come Monday, we will try to roll out of bed and go jogging to burn off all the birthday gluttony.

Here's to finding any excuse to pig out.

Cheers.

a child in the summer months

Nothing brings back a slice of nostalgia from my childhood quite like the smell of warm evenings in the Summer months.

The first hot days. 

The first sun burned shoulders. 

The first evening shower taken; turned mostly to cold.

Last weekend we had a shoulder of Cayuga Lake pretty much to ourselves on a perfect seventy degree, breezy, big blue sky Saturday.

That evening tucking in tuckered kids, I was hit with the forcible memory of that happy- clean- tuckered -feeling.  The comfort of clean civilization after a day of wild wanderings.

Here are the pictures I took that afternoon and string of sentences I jotted down the following day in my writing journal.

(as started earlier...)

Nothing brings back a slice of nostalgia from my childhood  quite like the smell of warm evenings in the Summer months.

Those were it.

The pinnacle of carefree childhood.

Hide and go seek at night looms up from the banks of my murky memory bank. Crickets humming so loud  as you crouch along tall clingy grass you feel like you're hiding near an unseen orchestra pit. And later, when the Moms really, really mean it, and everyone has to go home, you reluctantly go inside,  The bright yellow of inside lights rear up at you.  You blink. The tame orderly walled inside, just for an instant,  strikes you as foreign, contrary, and you wish you could be wild and roaming again. 

Mom demands a shower.

You debate and fiddle with the shower setting.  Not too warm; your skin's  still sticky with sweat.  You  hesitate, not daring to do ice cold, wanting the comfort of warm and clean.

And finally,  the barefoot walk down the upstairs hallway.  Did you know that varnished wood has a different smell in the Summer months?  It has to be something to do with the heat and humidity.  A swelling that releases the natural native scents of the wood.  Trapped before is was sawed and forced to confine itself to a neat purposeful house.  It is a good whispered scent of sweetness, like the kitchen hours after the cake has been pulled from the oven.

    But, the sensation of cool sheets on your warm crispy shoulders is the best.  The subtle after-heat of  sunburn on high thread count.  And I would sleep the sleep only known to a child in the Summer months.

Here's May and the glory of Summer stretched out long and wide before us.

Cheers

the ultimate question

I have asked myself on more than one occasion:

"How did my Mother raise five children, who grew into responsible adults, keep large a house amazing clean and organized (we lazy kids never helped) and stay in love with the same man all these years...

...and never drank wine?

 

 

But I think I know:

Yes, I often answer my own questions.

She loved the simple good life.

Loved God's Word.

She had a husband who came home every night, and he stayed in love with her too.

And every Thursday night she would put down us rowdy kids early and watch her favorite television show, The Waltons

And that was enough for her.

Happy Mother's Day.

Linking up this weekend with

pink saturaday at How Sweet the Sound

and

Shadow Shot Sunday 2

Good night John Boy

start of the weekend

For me the start of the weekend starts Friday morning when I cross the thresh hold of our door at about 8:10am; big girls secured away at school with their Friday faces of relief.

This weekend started with crisp saturated blue skies.  Cloudless. Cool.

Made my tazo green tea {after picking up the third round of breakfast}.

Casting a look outside I felt an: ice- tea- on -the -deck-with-a-book kinda vision loom in my mind for the afternoon.

Can't afford the organic all natural ice tea jugs they sell at the grocery store.

{we all drink it up}

So we invested in this TAKEYA ice tea maker:

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Just boil some water in the pitcher.

Add any traditional tea bag you prefer {we like tazo honeybush} in the filter thing-y.

Screw the holder to top.

Screw top to pitcher.

Leave in fridge till the sunshine and afternoon deck start calling your name.

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Speaking of Tea:

Have to share a pic of my kindergartner's Mother's Day Tea I went to this morning at her school.

Its my third one, and the school does a fantastic job.

Like the fancy pearl?

Here's to tea and sunshine to start off a weekend in May.

Cheers.

Destination unknow

An update blog post:

The update is:

there is no update

We found a house we loved loved loved.

Its minutes from Mr.MS's work, not a near hour drive.

It has an apple orchard! 22 acres!...of trees, of shady pines, of cool splashing creeks, thousands of feet to roam and flit with bare feet and sailing imagination.

Ideas whirled, eyes lit up, papers were signed.

No one has had similar whiling thoughts, sparkling eyes over our place.

However.

No one wants sign on our dotted line.

Now we wait.

I worry:

down payments,

credit scores.

un-secured debt,

in one month there will only be ten weeks of summer vacation till the new school starts

"what do you mean it needs more work?!"  {my wrathful comments from feedback comments on our house} "women are so spoiled with their have- to- be- perfect -houses" & "men are so lazy...guess using a screwdriver is too hard when you have to make time for your two fantasy football leagues and video games!"

{I made worse comments but should not type them out}

Its really, really annoying when you have put tons of time, effort, and money making your house the nicest its ever looked...and you then read people say comments like "scared off by all the work".

Snarly worry.

That was me.

But something else kept pestering me.

Another phrase all together.

Constant like the drips off a roof on to my shoulder.

Do you really trust Me?

Do you really believe I know, and that is enough?

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Slowly, though I resisted at first.

Biting cynical comments

replaced by

Praise of Him

"Well maybe we could just...."

replaced by

"Well we will simply wait..."

Criticism

replaced by

Enjoying.

This is how I enjoyed

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the black stain of mulch on my gardener's hands, fingernails, crammed under stubby nails, mashed in knees

 

 

The sharp sensation of fresh breezes slicing through the nylon mesh above your head, and soft warm quilts padding  and nestling you.  Softening the blow between  your bum and the hard uneven ground.

(ok, ok so I didn't actually spend the night in the tent in the backyard. That was enjoyed by the three big girls and their Daddy (it was cold!), but I snuck in the following afternoon with the babe).

 

Creating mixed media art with a favorite blown up photo, some spray painted salvaged medicine cabinet doors, embroidered quotes, and then put on pretty, torn, gesso-ed paper.

taking a picture of my chicken spinach caesar salad, that I then put on my chair, then moved to the door because it got better light. I thought the raised red veins on the spinach would make an interesting picture...and I was right.  See the raised nail heads too on the old chair?

Home made wine (read the label) straight from the hand of my husband.  We can even now boast of our very own "red neck wine cellar".  And home made bread straight from the hands of the Pillsbury corporation and to our local grocer's dairy case.

Few things comfort like warm freshly baked bread and a glass of wine.The simple starches and simple natural fermentation process are proof to me that The Lord intends for us to savor and enjoy the simple satisfying things in life.

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Quite frankly, the stress and questions, worries and snarly attitudes, started to chip away at the mortar of our marriage.

We would stare at each other.

Asking polite questions, nodding when appropriate. 

We found ourselves sighing and looking off into the unfocused distance a lot.

We were not really fighting.

{strangely enough}

Just blank.

Quiet.

That scares me more.

Laying in bed I confessed that I felt not the usual heavy fierce pressure of stress, that spurs us (okay ME) to lash out.  Instead, I felt a continual piling on.  Like a shovel taking a scoop of dirt, and slowly rotating the scoop of weight onto my shoulders. 

He confessed the same.

And we slowly drift under the pressure.

I didn't like being there.  Am acutely aware that I can not afford to loose my earthly partner and comforter, whom I can touch and see,when everything else is so uncertain.

Saying "Yes" to those pestering dripping questions above:

"Do you trust me?"

"Do you really believe that I know, and is that enough?"

was the key to shaking off the shovelful of stresses and hypothetical questions, and cementing us back into our proper place of- one flesh, again.

And that is where I hope to stay.

Destination un known.

Climbing each wrung, one at a time

holding on, enjoying the ride

 

together.

Cheers

stacking up

she realizes the teetering pile of:

"don't have time to properly complete"

reflected much more

than dishes too big to load

it mirrors herself

Linking  up with  the international artistic souls at Shadow Shot Sunday 2

Cheers

keeping balance

It has been a tilting week.

Swerving to the left and the right.  Pulled in the extremes of real estate obligations, children who cannot stop injuring themselves, and some ungodly stomach/intestinal bug attacking the family that NO ONE wants to know the details of, I have felt close to crashing on the merciless pavement.

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It's the little things:

Not being able able to eat or drink anything for nearly three days makes me realize how much I LOVE TO EAT AND DRINK.

I grip a steaming cup of coffee, take a swirly milky brown sip, knowing my stomach will revolt.  I so long for the comfort. I  cast hungry glances at kitchen cupboards, desiring the comfort of salty pita chips cut with tangy salsa; despite that I am not actually hungry.  I am hungry for the self-soothing comfort to hit my belly.  And in the evening, I pour purple-red wine in our cheap wine glasses, hoping one sip will not erupt instant reflux {it does}.

Pathetic I know.

My lilac bush,  boasting only about a dozen of its sweet smelling purple spikes, thanks to our schizophrenic spring sits untouched.  No time or gumption to get a step stool and clip a few fragrant bouquets of my favorite flower.

Why?

My newly repainted, de-cluttered sewing room/studio still looks great.  Mainly because I have not gone in there for a month.  Keep saying I will slice away an hour here or there, but that hour slips away in exhaustion and/or  cleaning.

Oh yes, the cleaning.

I knew it was coming.

Having your house on the market means one thing:

You have to keep every room immaculate. {I have lots of room, lots of kids, lots of hatred for forced tidiness}

I am in that torn paradox state of wanting so badly for someone to fall in love with our house and then promptly shell out a bunch of cash for it- and desperately hoping no one sets up an appointment to go through the house so I don't have to bloody clean all day!

Can't have it both ways I know.

My Eucharisteo {or gratitude} journal?

Have not scribbled a line, jotted a sentence, or pasted-in  a photo in weeks.

And yet, I know, I KNOW, that when I write those three gifts each night in bed  and then sleepily flip through past entries as eyes grow heavy:

My Contentment Goes Up

My Grumbling Goes Down.

Yet every evening, mind cramped with to-do lists, I straight out forget, or plain am not motivated.

Who forgets to make yourself happy?

Who is not motivated to be a nicer person?

Today, however, I was able to take a few swigs of creamy coffee.  I enjoyed wheat toast with home made peach preserves.

That helps.

I build a toad house with the babe.  Her pet toad she lost in the van two days was miraculously discovered and alive.

That made me happy.

A dear friend from far away, whom I have not spoken to in so long called, and we talked without interruption for an hour- miracle number two.

And while I have have been horribly neglectful of my journaling, I thumbed through the last few weeks of pictures, still sitting in my camera.

My visual Eucharisteo of sorts.

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The old fashioned charm of reading a good book in the back yard...

{see my review of this book: The Invention of Hugo Cabret in my left margin}

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Meets our children's modern new world...

{my big girl trying out a new recipe with the help of a mac book and utube cooking video}

But...

she has on a home-made apron made from vintage fabric...so its Kosher

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playing hooky...yup, despite all my rules, I am one of those moms

fearless mountain climbers...

lovers of nature...

squashers of state funded landscaping...

This beautiful stone circle of wild violets, water fall and  stone cliffs were enjoyed by us at Buttermilk Falls State Park in Ithaca, NY.

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So despite stress, gastric-bacteria, my being forced into being Cinderella {before she meets the fairy godmother of course}, and sleep deprivation;  I look at all these good little things right here before me.

Tiny pleasure, pretty snippets, savory tidbits, quiet moments

Take a deep breathe and say "OK I can do it"

For, "No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us"

Romans 8:37

Cheers.