Dec.24

Merry Christmas to all of my friends, online or off.
We are bustling happily here, eating lots of cookies and candy, hot chocolate for the boy, and coffee for these tired and content parents.
We've been wining and dining with friends and, soon enough, family. Making forts and pillow landing-pads for the boy who wants to be a cannonball. We're sleeping in (sort of) and are in our pajama's until at least lunch time. We're enjoying ourselves.
I hope you are too. <3

Dec. 15

1 and 2: I made a snowflake-curtain for the front window, which I think looks quite fetching.
3: waffle making
4: Darth Vader playing wise man. I wonder if that box has frankincense or myrrh?
5: gorgeous (and handmade) decorative plate I found at the thrift store

I'd like to note that doing these activities and documenting them is, for the moment, the only way of distracting myself and my loved ones from the horrific events yesterday. My husband and I found out around 1pm and went into utter disbelief. Then we held each other and sobbed. Neither of us understands how we're supposed to raise our son in this world. Neither of us can stop thinking about it.

I think we'll be making some nice cards to send to the school. It isn't much, but it's something. If you'd like to do the same, mail them to this address:

Sandy Hook Elementary School
12 Dickenson Drive
Sandy Hook, CT 06482

God bless you friends. xo

the slowest days.

Useful tools for handling pain and boredom: amazing coffee, my favorite Pho soup, and a magical book.

Days around here are incredibly long and incredibly slow, mostly because I'm constantly uncomfortable, but also because I'm living in a haze of pain-killers and muscle-relaxers. I was musing yesterday, amazed that there are people who want to be on this stuff all the time. That's something I'll never understand. To me it feels...well, it feels like shit.

There is surgery on my horizon. (yay) It will probably be along the lines of this, if you want to read about it. But it won't be happening anytime very soon, due to all the appointments and test I'll have to have prior to the actual procedure. I'm scared, but oh well. I want to feel better. I'm sick of feeling like half a person.

In the meantime, there is much cutting of paper snowflakes. I recovered a lampshade with book paper and it looks mighty pretty. Oh, and I gave my mother a manicure today for her birthday. I'm managing a 30 minute walk each day. I'm getting better. Now the real work comes in: figuring out how to stay that way.

Dec. 10

It's amazing all a bed bears witness to. Love, pain, sorrow, lust, laughter, wrestling, grief, and rest.

Unfortunately, this is where I'll be for the rest of the week. The neck thing again--which I'll explain more about later. To make a long story very short, I'll be needing surgery at some point.

Pray for my family, if you're moved to do so. <3

bedecking.

we did our best hermiting today, and stayed indoors, eating and decorating, lounging and reading. a good sunday.

new curtains.

New curtains for the studio, made of vintage sheets. In the late afternoon light, my studio looks like the inside of a rose.

belated thankfulness.

Though my thoughts are swirling and sleepless, I can still manage a little belated thankfulness:

My husband, who sits up in bed with me watching television, looks at his ancient, graying socks and says, "What the hell am I wearing?!"

My son, that incredibly intelligent being, who knows more than I can guess, and needs my help only sparingly. Oh, and when he clarifies that "I didn't say 'shit' Momma, I said 'sit'." Good to know.

This house we live in, and the beautiful rooms we've created out of nothing but a little moxy and some recycling. I admittedly get a little bummed at the disheveled state of things, that our televisions aren't flat-screen's, that we can't afford Iphones and Ipads, etc., because we really are a bit on the poor side. But then I feel a sort of sweet relief when I look around and realize that or house looks like a home, not a Radio Shack, and that makes me happy.

Good food, always. God consistently gives us enough to eat. We've never gone hungry.

My Pinterest boards and the never-ending rotation of inspiration I find there.

I have a studio. It's a tiny room, and I keep it sparse so that I can spread out fabric and canvas on the floor. It has two windows that let in a huge amount of light. It's cold, placed right over the garage, but it's mine, just mine.

My family, a host of wonky characters, who always keep me laughing no matter how dismal conditions might seem. Our gatherings see me heading home with an aching belly, and not because of the food.

And as always, I'm thankful for the rows and rows of 99cent books at the thrift store, letting me zone out and hunt for treasure, all in one place.