I like to celebrate whenever I can. I’ve even been known to create my own holidays!
Today, I celebrate (in words, anyway) a shift in women’s fashion, particularly catching on with my middle school girls. Now, the female species of the pre-ad homosapien is particularly vulnerable to whatever is coming down the pipe from the Big Apple or Hollywood.
I find this unfortunate…
I have three fashionista rules: Cleanliness, Comfort, and Coverage. So thankfully, the trend tends to be moving to the longer tunics, and get this—“mom jeans” are making a comeback! (Pick me up off the floor!) Mom jeans were Continue reading “Modern-day Molech”
I seriously love trees. In fact, forested landscapes are on the top of the list of my favorites. I remember the thrill of exploring the woods as a youngster at Girl Scout camp, and conquering that amazing (although not altogether safe) tree house in our neighborhood. At this writing (July), the leaves are fully out and lush green, and our eldest just did a preschool unit on trees with our two-year-old granddaughter. The sooner she learns that trees are our friends, the better!
This is what one of my daughters got me for Mother’s Day this year! She donated to this site–how wonderfully practical! (She knows her mom…) So I’m sharing it here, in the hope that it may touch other hearts also. Happy MOMs day to all!! ~~dawnlizjones
For the past six months, we’ve been basking in the truest joy of our new boy, River. Long nights, bright mornings, deep winter snuggles, toes in the spring grass, and the most beautiful season of big-and-little brotherhood.
We’ve also spent half a year working through long, contradictory conversations with our insurance provider regarding why they won’t cover his birth or my prenatal care. Despite being an in-network provider and our paying large monthly premiums for coverage, our midwife was paid less than 10% of her fee by the insurance company. Less than we pay for one month of insurance coverage. We are disappointed with the system and we’ve worked hard attempting to navigate it in order to alleviate this financial burden and get our midwife the payment she deserves. Still, we are left with a large bill, one that stretches us beyond our carefully budgeted capacity to pay. And so I’m offering a Helping Quilt. A quilt that will help us pay our incredible midwife for her necessary, competent, and loving services, and a quilt for one of you to love and keep warm with and pass on in your own family. But that’s not the only prize.
A second winner will be randomly selected to receive a year-long subscription to our Seasonal Silk Club, and THREE more winners will be chosen to receive a naturally dyed, heirloom bunting from our summer collection.
And finally, everyone who purchases a raffle ticket will receive a link to download a printable PDF file of the four seasonal illustrations featured in the Sugar House recipe books, drawn by artist Emily Halbardier, in gratitude for your support and contribution. The illustration can be printed on nice, heavy paper and framed or hung as a special print, as many times as you’d like!
Until 9 am EST on Sunday May 14, you can purchase raffle tickets in my shop. Five winners will be randomly chosen on May 14, with the winning order numbers announced on this post Sunday evening. Winners will be contacted directly by email.
First Prize (one winner): a custom handmade throw or child-sized quilt – including natural colors and a pattern we design together, made from 100% organic fibers, hand-stitched with a little bit of extra love. The quilt will take approximately 8-10 weeks to complete, and will ship toward the end of summer 2017.
Second Prize (one winner): a year-long subscription to the Seasonal Silk Club, a total of eight naturally dyed play silks delivered seasonally. The spring silks will be mailed the week of May 15 with the remaining seasons to be shipped seasonally in June, September, and December 2017.
Third Prize (three winners): one heirloom-quality, naturally dyed, 100% cotton bunting in summer-inspired, plant-based shades, mailed before the end of June 2017.
All raffle entrants will receive the PDF mentioned above automatically, delivered to your inbox.
Thank you for your support, your help, and your love. Tickets are available here.
And to inspire your custom quilt daydreams, visit my Archive of selected previous work.
(PS–even if you’re reading this after the raffle, I’m sure she would still love a donation. Mom’s could usually use some help. ~~DLJ)
Several years ago we finally went the way of modern innovation by disconnecting our land line in preference to our cell phones. That was a big step when you consider my children themselves actually bought us an answering machine for the old phone prior to that since they “could never get a hold of” us. Of course, Bob’s cell is of little use since he leaves it lying on the dresser in the front room…all the time.
Yes, technology comes slowly to my home.
The challenge I have with cells phones is the inconsistency. Depending on “the service area” and “the carrier”, calls get dropped, or can be really hard to hear. Our eldest daughter used to live in a part of L.A. notorious for bad cell reception. During one wild fire season, (akin to our Midwestern tornado season I am told), I received something like this:
“Hi Mom….(crzhrhhhrzzz)….fires close…(zxsssssgrrrrccrr)….heard on news, ok for now….(chrrrrrsszzarckkkkk)…..
Naturally, when something important like that is coming through, one tends to strain a little more to get the message. I think that’s also an old teacher trick to quiet down some unruly kids; i.e., start talking more softly, and curiosity gets the best of them if nothing else. With all the newer brain studies and neuro-imagining (talk about technology!), I’d love to see what the brain looks like when it’s really focused on something.
I figure God knew something about this magnificent piece of organic technology we call the brain (since He created it) when Jesus said this:
“To those who listen to my teaching, more understanding will be given, and they will have an abundance of knowledge. But for those who are not listening, even what little understanding they have will be taken away from them.”
Interestingly, He’s not just talking about more knowledge, but more understanding. That is, application, and how it all fits together in the context of the larger picture. A.K.A., wisdom. The challenge,…no, the danger comes when I don’t discipline myself to listen, even strain if you will, because we all know in our work-a-day world of noise both external and internal, real listening is a lost art.
To only hear the first part of that phone call from California might have set off a small panic, but focused attention to get the FULL message, even though some of the words were muffled, gave me what I needed to know. The rest was verifiable later in a follow up phone call.
God is speaking, albeit sometimes in a “still, small voice”, that strategic teacher voice. It’s just a matter of if I’m in a place of adequate reception.
Still being a bit of a novice at this grandparenting thing, I’m told that grandchildren generally chose their own monikers for their grandparents, something easy to say, at times comical and endearing little things that stick like glue: Mimi, Nana, Papoo…so I was curious what the first of this new generation was going to choose for us.
As I begin this post, our youngest daughter is in the birthing process with their first child. She called last night around 1:30AM (their time) to say that the dam had broken, but were home from the hospital with the injunction to “try and get some sleep”.
Yeah, right. A separate human being is trying to push her way into the world through your body, and you’re supposed to “get some sleep”.
Last report is that the contractions are getting more regular. Of course, their bags are packed, and my son-in-law has been the one “nesting” by changing all the lights in their small apartment so that they can be turned on and off by a phone app, by rotating the tires on the car, etc…we love him.
I don’t have a home and hearth “lifestyle” site like my bloggin’ buddy, Lindsey. Case in point: I grew up calling all eating utensils “silverware, yet I somehow doubt that we ate off of silver. I have since learned the differentiations between silverware, stainless, and simply flatware. Now, Lindsey might be able to tell you more precisely what those are are (and how to use them correctly!) One thing I have learned, however, (Lindsey, dear, please correct me if I’m wrong), is that the more you use silver, the less you have to keep it polished. Otherwise, just stuffing it away for special occasions means you had better budget a fair amount of time in the preparation of the event for the wearisome task of polishing, cleaning, and wiping.
For someone who rarely gets around to dusting my furniture, no thanks.
Not that I would allow my granddaughter to dig in the dirt with the silver serving spoon I got as a wedding gift lo, these many years ago, but why stuff that little treasure away just for dipping out the mashed potatoes at Thanksgiving?
So I wonder how much I fall prey to that attitude in other areas of my life; that is, putting something away for “safe keeping”, afraid it might get broken, stolen, or at the very least misused or disregarded, instead of using it for Continue reading “Silverware, or flatware?”
Bob loves intelligent sci-fi, you know, the kind where you dare not walk out of the room or you might miss an important piece of the mental puzzle. (But then, he also likes big stupid scary monsters, like Godzilla, so I’ll just him “eclectic”.) He wanted to watch the movie Inception…again. Now, I’ve been vying for the old Jimmy Stewart black and white You Can’t Take It With You, so you can see our differences in taste. But he’s working on some of his own writing and he was doing some, shall we say, research. Because that’s what college professors do.
Best dating story: Bob and I were coming home from an evening out. As I was still in college, I lived with my parents in the summer, and my dad, as a stickler for protecting his family, always had the door locked if I got home late enough and they had gone to bed. Naturally, I also always had a key to get in when my soon-to-be finance would deposit me at the front step.
The key, however, only fit the main entrance, not the outer screen door…
What happened next was almost something out of Ferris Beuller’s Day Off. Bob, being the practical science-guy he is, couldn’t understand why I didn’t just ring the door bell, (which, to this day, seems like the most sagacious option), but in deference to my objections, he pulled his little Pinto (remember those?) around to the driveway and helped me go from the big wooden storage box, to the top of his car, and onto the garage roof which led to my own second story window. Thankfully, I had left the window open, but DRAT! There was that locked screen window (what is it with screens??) that I had to poke my fingers through to raise, hoping that the family dog wasn’t currently my room ready to sound the intruder alarm.
Having successfully deposited his future bride safely, albeit not conveniently, within her home, Bob took off and I went to bed, thinking I would relate the incident to my folks…someday. Until I got up that morning and they asked me how I had gotten in last night, as Dad noticed he had locked the screen door, and Mom was wondering what my shoes were doing in the garage.
At what point in a young person’s life does she realize that her parents are not stupid?
Now, Dad is a fixer; property is something that must be improved and/or maintained, so my screen window didn’t stay impaled for long, allowing for mosquitoes, bees, and other pests equal access to my room, (geewhiz, hadn’t thought of that one). And thankfully, I didn’t dent Bob’s car, pull off the guttering or slip and break my neck scampering up the shingles. In retrospect (sigh) I should have just rung the doorbell!
Which is kinda the point the writer of Hebrews is making when he says:
“So let us come boldly to the throne of our gracious God. There we will receive his mercy, and we will find grace to help us when we need it most.”
I wonder how much wasted time, energy, and (gulp!) destruction I have caused by not first coming boldly to my Father’s presence. What fears have stolen my peace, what anxieties have poked holes in my power, and what kind of hellacious peril I have put myself (and others) in due to my lack of faith in God’s most holy acceptance of me because of His Son!
After all, I’m one of the family. If I’m feeling locked out, I just have to ring the bell.
Well, the old frig finally gave up the ghost. It was, after all, 25 years old, which might make some of my contemporary homemakers gasp with awe. Bob really came through yet again—
I had noticed the night before that things were a little squishy in the freezer, cold, but not hard like normal. Checking the temp, it looked like it had been accidentally turned down, just a little, and besides, sometimes the door doesn’t shut all the way unless I push on it, so okay. Done. Went to bed.
Next morning, almost time to head out the door, I go to make our daily smoothies to take to our offices and notice that things are not just squishy, but thawing out! Uh-oh. Thankfully, at this writing, my husband’s work schedule is more flexible than mine, and he was able to take measurements and make all the necessary decisions and contacts (including the contractor who had to come out and pull down some cabinets in my very small kitchen so the new appliance would fit!)