Choosing to see the extraordinary of "ordinary"

Monthly Archives: June 2013

I love to bake.  Actually, I love to eat; therefore, I love to bake.  I have not baked cookies in a very long time though.  Caleb doesn’t eat desserts very often, aaaaaand I do.  So, I try to limit the baking because  But I wanted to make cookies for someone’s birthday, and I told dad and Matthew H. I would make them cookies, so there was an excuse!!!  DSC00015

So I made cookies, and I ate the dough and baked cookies and tested the cookies and froze some dough for later and sat down with a cookie and milk (because previously “testing” the cookies doesn’t count as “eating” them).


That is all I will write for blessings today.  That is enough.  They’re cookies, after all!




Another Saturday, another book signing.  This one began like the others.  Get there early; set up; wait for people…  It was a little after the start time, and there was one person there.  This is going to be awkward.  Then Tracey and her family show up.  Yay!  People!  I told mom I was going to go ahead and start.  She replied, “No, let’s wait a little bit.”

About a minute later, another person came in.  I could hear them asking where the signing was.  I look up and see a guy in a doo-rag and sun glasses.  Good, more people!  Wait a minute, I know that guy!


“Well, hi!  How are you?! What are you DOING here?”  (Don’t beat around the bush, after all.)  It was my Uncle Don, my dear, sweet Uncle Don.  I like him.  I had just emailed him the day before saying it had been too long, and he needed to come down again.  It was my Uncle Don who made a special trip from Manhattan just to be there for my book signing.  He laughed.  I like to hear his laugh.


He couldn’t stay long, but he was there.  And my sister and nephews and niece and brother-in-law were there (even though Tim hadn’t known he was going to a  library bwahahaha).  And my mom was there.  And Megan came later to be there for me.  What would life be without family and friends???


Actually, once it got going, the book signing turned out to be one of the better ones…but even if it hadn’t, my peeps showed up.


Rush, rush, rush.  Hurry, hurry, hurry.  This week has been CRrraaaaAAAzy – at work, at home, yada, yada, yada.  I don’t know why it’s all at once, but it is, which is fine…until I start twitching.

So, I ran home after work to fix supper before we left again.  I pulled in the drive and then walked over to the side of the house to see how My Man was doing on the whole roofing thing.

Me:  “Hi.”


“Looks nice, babe.”

Him:  “Thanks.  You going to the gym?”

Me:  “No, I’m not going to the gym!  I’d like to go in and stay in one place for a few minutes!!!”

Poor guy, simple question, that’s all it was.  And I usually do try to go to the gym after work.  Yeah, this was not the day.  I need to work on my attitude, I know.  In my defense (though being snippy should have no defense), I calculated that the longest stretch of non-sleeping time that I had been home that week was two hours – and the two hours occurred only once, most of the time it was one hour segments, which would include getting ready in the mornings, or getting supper or (sometimes) doing dishes.  And, no, I didn’t sleep in either.

Ok, so this evening, I was in a huff.  Went inside.  He came in as I was banging around the kitchen.  He led me in a decision…let’s skip the event that night, ’cause it really could be skipped.  Let’s stay home.  And then he grilled supper for me.  And we cooked together and cleaned the kitchen together, and it was wonderful.  No, I can’t say my attitude improved right away, but the evening and the cooking supper together and the home time was wonderful all the same.




I couldn’t decide between the title above and a title more like, “A Morning in the Garden.”  Both are drastically different in sound; both are true.

I love mornings.  ‘Twas not always so, but it kind of was always so.  (Did that make any sense?)  Anyway, the mornings I can step outside and water the flowers and garden are especially, aaaahhhhhhh.   So I watered, and checked my rose sticks – the bare root roses I ordered and planted exactly according to the instructions are not looking promising.  I am worried.  And then I moved to the back vegetable garden to soak things there.  These are not pictures taken in the morning, but they are pictures nonetheless…

I have tomatoes!!!!!!

I have tomatoes!!!!!!


Ok, so see the white things in the picture below?


They are egg shells.  We eat A-LOT of eggs, actually, Caleb eats a lot.  I eat a “normal” amount.  hahaha.  You think I’m exaggerating.  Well, just ask the lady I saw in Dillons the other day who looked at the twelve dozen eggs in my cart and said, “Oh! Oh myYYY!”  They’ll last us an entire month, ok?  It’s not like we eat them in a week.

Aaaaaanyway, we save the shells and put them in the garden because I read some organic gardening article that said plants like whatever’s in eggshells.  Normally, I crunch them up in pieces, but this time I just dumped ’em.

Why am I saying all this?  Because of THIS that I found this perfectly beautiful morning…



He’s EATING my EGGSHELLS.  I don’t like snakes, ok?  Call me a sissy, call me a wimp.  I. Don’t. Care.  They ain’t fur me.  I think it’s linked to the childhood experience of having a nest of black snakes hatch around our chicken house one summer.  Try gathering eggs when you walk in and meet one of these lovelies hanging down from the rafters in front of your face or curled in the corner…Blech.  I hate them.

So, I go in the house to grab the camera, of course, and to call Caleb.  (He should have been awake at 6:30 anyway.)  “Do we prefer to have mice running around or snakes?”  “Huh?” groans he.  “Mice or snakes! Mice or snakes!”  Can’t he understand?  “I hate, hate, hate snakes and don’t want to run into them as I am gardening, but I know they eat mice, so which do we want?”  The Man logically replies, “If you don’t like snakes then kill it.”  Ok.  That’s simple.  (Why can’t I come up with these decisions on my own?)

I go back to the garden armed with shovel and camera.  The snake was too busy eating, so he wouldn’t mind me getting a couple good ‘n’ close shots, right?  I considered calling Tracey so she could wake her four children at 6:30 am so they could see this kind of cool nature thing.  Then I thought she just might come after me with a shovel if I did call.  (Your loss, Tracey.)  And then…

…the stupid thing decides I’m too close, and be backs up and slithers under the garage.  Nuh uh!  I grab the shovel and pin his tail. (Do snakes have tails?)   “I got his tail!  I got his tail!”  says me to myself.  Now what do I do with it?  Next came a tug of war between me and the beastly thing.  They must have pretty good traction.  I tried to drag him back; he refused to come.  I twisted and turned; he stayed.  I start whimpering…and wondering if a tailless snake will die just as good as a headless snake.  I carefully put down my camera whilst keeping the pressure on the shovel.  Then I jump on that there shovel.  He may live, but I’m NOT going to give him the satisfaction of living whole.  I jump again…and again.  Was it my dull, old shovel or just a tough ol’ snake?  I thought they chopped easily???  I kind of sawed; I jumped; I ground it into the dirt.  The tail would not come off.  In my last desperate attempt, I lifted the shovel to get a good swinging chop at it.  Yeah, well, snakes are fast.

Needless to say after this struggle with nature, I didn’t win.  And I’ll forever be scanning, searching, scared of a snake who has a crooked tail in my garden.

I hate snakes, but the adventure was a blessing!  (I think.)

Well, we finally made it to Aaron’s baseball and Glorie’s softball games this evening.  We sort of made it to Aaron’s game.  I attempted to make supper in record time; supper refused to be made in record time; the first attempt of pizza flopped; a second attempt had to be made.  (Really, how can you mess up pizza?  It’s supposed to be easy!)  Anyway, we got to the game halfway in, in time to see him play but not bat.  😦  Oh well.  We had fun anyway, and, hopefully, we’ll see him bat another day.


I sat there watching, and after 20 minutes or so, I said, “Is that Matthew?!”  Yep, the coach out there running the pitching machine was Mattman.  I’m very observant, obviously.  He just looked so…grown up!  *sigh*  I remember when…haha, ok, I’ll stop.  I didn’t get a picture of him though.  I tried, but my camera kept dying, so I kept licking the battery to maybe extend the life.  It tasted gross, so I stopped, therefore, my battery didn’t work no more.

Glorie’s game was much shadier.  Thank you, Glorie!  I like that park better.  She did great. We had fun.  The end.