somethings

as they come to me, so no particular order ~

Bender is old. Bender has lumps. Bender has what I'm nearly certain is skin cancer on her belly. I google-imaged to be sure, but quickly wanted to barf (don't ever, ever google-image that term, I mean it). And it breaks my heart, but brings me immediately back to the first point and the way all old dogs break all our hearts.

Every day the old Bender and the Sophie puppy chase tennis balls and run together and I adore the way their soft-black-ears flop in tandem.

It's a day early, but I've surreptitiously acquired The New Album from The Contentious Band (the one connected with that a-mazing continent quote I sent you last week), and so my brief-ish road trip down the what lately is becoming a very-well-traveled road will be a better one. Although I do wish it were a better destination this time than lying in a brain-scanning claustrophobic tunnel for 12 minutes, but maybe that will lead to some answers about my scattered-ness, or not.

I've never loved summer, as the blog-audience surely well knows, and again it occurred to me that it's another thing rooted in control. I can't control being too effing hot, to the point of stifle. I can't control the outcome of the garden, whether it will be high-yield or lagging, whether the tomatoes will like the way we tied and staked them (this year, not so much - #pinterestfail). And I especially can't control the insane weed-growth taking over the flower beds. I mean I could, if I had enough funds and/or stamina to haul in 2 tons of mulch redo the whole thing. Which will in fact happen at some point I imagine, but not anytime soon? And so that continues to vex me as I throw the ball and adore the floppy ears. Adore-seethe, adore-seethe, is how it goes.

The preschool room will be painted Pineapple Delight, which isn't nearly as manic as it sounds, and even though it was my third choice color (the other two were blues and greens and so much calmer...), at least it was a choice of mine? I mean, let it go Penelope. How many people get to all but dictate the entire look of their classrooms from the start? My lovely third choice is better than like, Schoolbus Spectacular, or some other imagined horror.

We finished Orange is the New Black (SO. good. brills.) and also through some luck reinstated direcTV - something about, well, football is starting, and we have a credit, and oh now there's another ginormous credit through the referral program. Like we won't even have to pay for it all for 2 more months? I waffle on the "need" for any extra forms of entertainment - it's not a need at all, what am I saying - but as far as luxuries go. We by no means have the Cadillac package, more like the Ford Focus. And now I can still watch Survivor.

Well anyway, my love - it's time to go. adieu adieu, til next time.
p.s. did we both order ravioli then? Because I seem to distinctly remember also having that. And, we were not given a very good table. By the wall, definitively out of the action, all but squirreled away. I expect the shoe baron to land us a better spot, to see and be seen, dammit! when the day comes.
xoxox

lao-tang,

The puppy sleeps next to me; the pool is being refilled. It's relatively cooler today than usual from storms. Which I love, because the heat can suck it. Yesterday I spent the day cleaning out a craft supply room for church and discussing my new THREE'S classroom, which is going to be completely overhauled before I start in Sept. Which is a good thing: currently, think dingy white paint, old awful yellow trim, out-of-date circus curtains. Lots of clutter. It will be: no curtains, all white trim, wall color TBD. And organized however we say, at least in accordance to the Big Honking Manual I also took home yesterday. Which is simultaneously completely overwhelming to the point of maniacal laughter - all these nitpicky regulations to establish "quality!" Geez. But also kind of helpful to someone such as myself starting completely from scratch. It's a giant Book O' Parameters, with which I can totally deal. And welcome in a lot of ways, because a direction is good, very very good. And later when I've gotten a handle on it all, I'll totally mock its nitpickiness as begged.

I don't know if you're still mad at me, or wounded, or _____. I will say that intent is completely important to me and shouldn't be disregarded. Certainly you must express your hurt feelings and so you have. I take listening prayer and your practice of it seriously enough that I wouldn't pretend to love it or connect with it just to spare your feelings. I appreciate the freedom to not love something and express that, too. My apologies if that manner of expression was hurtful, although it was more a self-mockery or commentary on my own lack of connection. But maybe too flip. I will also put out there as an intending-to-be objective observation that with ministry, perhaps it's important to meet a person on their level, considering personal style, personality type, etc. There is the element of challenging a person to stretch themselves, too. But then, how fine a line is that, particularly when the person is already stretched to the point of snapping anyminutenow. I know you're looking at a different side of the elephant and seeing your own version of truth while I see mine. Maybe yours is more about sharing and opening up when mine is that it's shutting me down. I suppose we either inch toward each other's truths to at least see what the other sees, or we move on to a different creature.

Like books. Did I dust you? When I posted notes for chapter 3, it wasn't to leave anyone out; I sort of just did it to do it and figured there'd be email catchup whenever each person had finished the chapter. Kind of like when we watch ProRun and say okay - read this email full of my commentary after you've watched, too.

Anyway I'm glad it's a Friday with nowhere to be. Tomorrow, earring shopping with K.Lo, who is at her milestone 6 weeks. And an oil change, yawn. Monday, some travel. Which I suppose means Sunday, some packing. Oof. But onto the most pressing item du jour, which is cleaning up the disaster pit down the hall, also known as K.Lo's room.

xoxox

allo allo

Welcome to the summery days of little peace. Last night K.Lo had a sleepover and I was smart this time about ending it early today on a good note, rather than dragging it out to the point of (my) insanity. They always wake up a little off-kilter and before you know it, not only is the puppy across the street with her eff-you-I-can't-hear-you ears on, but one child is being bopped by another with an inner tube and screaming ensues. Be kind, people, be kind. And wear shoes while bike-riding, and a helmet too. 

I feel like it's been forever since my last correspondence, although I continue to write you letters in my mind and wonder why you don't receive them. Have we not worked out all the bugs in our telepathy program yet? They keep landing in your eyes, I think! The dead ant was horrifying, by the way, and the whole peach-picking attack. What an insult! Kind of like the epic battle with fruit flies I've been fighting in both the kitchen and my car, not to mention the miniscule ants and that terrible winged thing I saw by the sink this morning. Oh, July. 

I'd say it's my least favorite month, and maybe it is, but not really. There' are always silver linings, such as an almost anonymous ninja's visit! Which rocked. Although I hope we weren't too grumpy for her. J.Lo's sciatic nerve is fully pinched and its pain and inconvenience continue to radiate through all of us. However, we all enjoyed a lot of downtime and some driveway fireworks along with water balloon target practice. And some mini-tours through town. 

The white and purple calla lilies are blooming and the brown-eyed susans have unfurled. But don't clip those and arrange in a pitcher, as they will soon become wilty and sad. Not unlike myself in the humid-blanket-like heat. We're drawing straws on who gets to mow the front yard (I think I lost). I'll be taking care of that at dusk. 

Also my shipment of succulents (THANK YOUUUUU!!!) has taken up temporary home on the back pork, where they're growing roots before planting. I have a location all picked out, on the previously overlooked side-porch, although I might have to play puppy police there for awhile. Because some furry creatures have destructive agendas toward new plantings. Their names rhyme with Loafie, even though she is anything but. 

I haven't been Listening. I know. I'm not sure it's for me, like I can't help feeling like I'm playing on a Ouija board, though I know you'd completely disagree. But my mind just can't accommodate its possibilities at the moment. Too full. Too worried. To which you'd say, duh, it's the perfect time then. But I have to go about it in my own way, right now. (Uh-oh, I can already hear you railing in response!) 

But I do feel like, in spite of my resistance to the marriage book, I'm learning some things or absorbing some ideas anyway, about love. The daily work of love-as-action, in spite of what you're feeling. Important not only as a spouse, but as parent, friend, teacher. And yet sometimes so hard to execute... 

I hope you spot your fish soon, little pelican. Let's phone-chat soon! 

xoxox

pen

poor smurfy,

Talk about a mental fog. Today is the first day in a long while (as far as I know, snarf) that mine feels relatively lifted. And like my body is my own again, not some drained, feeble, tingling thing. So. Weird. Why all of a sudden, why today. Will it return? What did it all mean. I barely feel like overanalyzing it (for now).

I forgot to mention that the other day I was stuck in a K.Lo closet, the book-nook one, while she cleaned her room (overseeing is sometimes required) and I decided to read the 50 States book. Put together in '96, it listed the Oklahoma City bombings as the worst terrorist act on record and then for NY, there was the WTC, still intact. Aside from that surreality, it was like ah, fact book. I mean obviously it only gives you the bare-bones basics of each state and it's a kids' thing, but at the same time it was kind of nice to present one's brain with a finite amount of information. Like I could go on a webpage and traverse ads and fact after fact after fact, not to mention a million rabbit holes I would surely fall into, as this fact made me think of that fact, and what else could I look up. It's an awesome thing. But then, ah, fact book. So nice and simple. And possibly much more memorable, and therefore meaningful.

Does Lifetime really stream? I must investigate. Bravo does not, so I just assumed I'd be sol for ProRun, just like Top Chef, which is attainable by J.Lo for sure, but it does require reminding and prodding and transferring of files - so labor intensive! is all I'm saying. Not that it's not worth it, for those few elusive but adored shows.

Today was more crafty assistance; I really like this years' decorations. Not that I didn't last year, it's just somehow they're coming together better this year, with less turmoil, and are so bright and almost splashy. A faux marble wall lined with paper torches! An entryway sign shaped like the Parthenon! And things like that.

Here is the type of thing Sophie does. Wii Remote on Back Porch, a still life.

This was from last week on a day when it was wicked hot. I felt very melty that day; so did the dogs. 

The garden snack bar fare. I think the peas will be done soon, but total success for them! Last year we literally had two peapods. This year we had plenty for snacking and enough for a stirfry. Next up, cucumbers and some okra, which I still have to replant after the puppy attack. (Notice the theme here.)

This is how the planterbox looks lately! The morning glories are creeping up a trellis, as well as a hummingbird plant of some sort. Notorious fungus gnats (result of initial overwatering) have been slayed by cinnamon. Also nearby, cilantro has sprouted. 

Lastly, Sophie the rainbow-sword warrior. 

dear melter of smurfs,

Really, what on earth was that gak-like substance melted in your stove? Bet it smelled awesome!

Well so here I am. Right eye twitching and occasionally leaking out the far corner. It's Set Up for Vacation Bible School week. Which does tap into my crafty spirit, although the marble wall did thwart me. Yesterday we made a well out of a table wrapped in last year's paper brick wall, and I rimmed the top edge in sand and thinned-out glue.

I'm in that phase of feeling like Facebook is impossibly stupid, full of inconsequential drivel, so I either need to change whoever's showing up in my feed or stick to the short-short list (because I don't want to miss out on gak, that's the good stuff) or just not check it so much at all.

There's a very good chance I'll finish the book I'm reading, which is not even the usual fluff-fare. Amazing. I feel all bookish again. And I'm excited that we've picked another book to read together!

Three weeks without satellite dish and I miss it not at all. Hulu and Netflix together are more than adequate (I say until ProRun premieres. How did you access that??)

I've painted my toes two weeks in a row and have been wearing borderline cute clothes, maybe to make up for my complete lack of chutzpah. It's raining a lot, so as to invite children's loudness and puppy's boredom and also garden soil's fungus gnats. J.Lo is having an especially bullshit time at work, fixing an impossibly long list of broken things. And let's not forget that terrible daily puzzle of tingling limbs and lost words and whether or not I'm actually losing my mind. That'd be nice to solve. But right now I could really use some pretzels.

good morning,

It's cold. My hand(s)/arm(s) are still intermittently asleep. And sometimes my right foot toes? And this morning it occurred to me that I've been wearing the night arm brace thingy upside down for five days. Egad, penelope - brilliant! Not the only ridiculous mistake I"ve made this week however. Am fighting the urge to close the porch door and turn on the heat already. Not that I'm really complaining, because this is spring! I'm glad we haven't jumped with both feet straight into summer. I need time, transition.

Five or six library books are inexplicably overdue - why am I not getting timely notices of impending doom? Although it wasn't just me, with the blog-service shutdown. Their Facebook page is in an uproar, bloggers lamenting and railing over the thoughtless approach to disbandment. Like when Picnic shut down? They sent warning emails for six months. I wanted to pull my hair out by the end of - I KNOW. I GET IT. YOU'RE SHUTTING DOWN. But at least they gave ample warning. As they should!

Anyway, the blog about the children has been transferred. To the second choice platform, WP, but whatever. I've wasted enough time with tech hoops and other obstacles, and am sticking to it.

Right now I'm watching the ProRun season finale. Stanley sewing models into outfits like a madman. Whaaaat happened, Stanley. And why is Michelle's runway music on barbiturates. Although I love her collection. Aw, Patricia - dedicating the collection to trees. I like it. Maybe they're truffula trees, but that's all right?

But I'm ready for the next season already.

Puppy's spay-surgery is tomorrow. I'm hoping for a quiet weekend. Is it too much to ask? Three super-busy weekends in a row and I'm ready to crash. Not that said weekends weren't filled with goodness. Much goodness with friends, family and friends again. And finally seeing Duke Gardens, which is lovely! Clearly even more charming this time of year with unobnoxious temperatures and full flora. And pondering, if you could go there all the time, what would be "your spot." In the endless nooks and crannies. By the water? Next to stones? On a quiet bench or in the zen-ish garden. Maybe in a surreptitious pocket of woods, like the old man with a book.

Omg, Jewel is going to be in a Lifetime movie...what is happening.

Also, the heavy cloud/ton of bricks has descended. Oh hormones, how I loathe thee. That's all I can say about that right now.

Tell me what's going on in your world, m! And send poor Bruckner a postcard already. Via owl post if you must. They found Harry in the cupboard under the stairs, surely they can find Bruckner on the gravel road past the giant blue cactus across from the honey badger statue, or whatever that insane address was.
lovetoyou!

and then sometimes

You buy a bag of mini powdered donuts and they're all wet. Ew.

Or you spend hours sorting through a bunch of outgrown clothes to consign online, at this place that seems really cool, and came recommended, and after setting your expectations super low (maybe I'll get a buck apiece - $20+? that'd be okay), they only give you $6.41. Man that pissed me off.

I am however SO EXCITED that Michael Kors will be judging the ProRun finale. In which I'm rooting for Michelle.

And excited to have picked up two delicious-looking YA books at the library yesterday evening. Maybe I'll even settle down enough read them.

I'm in desperate need of yoga for my ridiculous limbs. Aging is sooo overrated.

Last night of bells practice! Until the fall. Last Wed. night dinner, too. A small, only-handbells potluck.

Here are the vegetables.

And here is the puppy.

I love them both, but in different ways.

odd-ends

So it's spring break week for the children. Nothing like spring break to make you want a break? Holy shiz. I mean I'm hormonal, so life perspective is inherently skewed. But ho.ly.shiz.

Rather than one long blog-story, my recent life exists on bits of scrap paper ~

We tilled the garden-earth. Add moss and manure and it's already looking better than Year 1. Planted lettuce and peas and soon eggplant and tomatoes, courtesy of mom. Go garden go! That's my favorite day of the whole year possibly, fraught with sunshine and hope and possibility.

Directly before said gardening, the following occurred in the span of maybe 30 minutes: a tick crawled up my leg. a wasp dive-bombed my head. a black widow spider lurked in the soil. An omen of anything? Maybe the actual tick bite discovered later, which STILL ITCHES and I assume will continue to do so for three months, like they do.

No job for now. Maybe August. I mean it makes sense and I get it, but still feel whiny and tragic about the cold hard facts. Freelance filler in the meantime is just so unreliable. Friggin' ugh it stresses me out.

The Sophie has tripled in size during her 7 weeks here, weighing in at 21 pounds. Vet visit number three we took in our usual stride. Next month: last shots and spaying. At a reduced cost we hope.

Starship Lo.Co. allows us to do magical things like tote large objects places and so we finally got rid of that crappy front door sitting in our garage for a year and the stupid lawnmower that ran over a culvert last year. I don't know what that thing was thinking when it went all suicide bomber - had nothing whatsoever to do with its driver, I mean it. So anyway, we left this sign taped to its handlebars in case someone wanted to adopt it. And because we just could not help ourselves. 

On ep 2 of Jericho; it's scratching the Netflixitch for the moment. 

My hag-neighbor's husband has gone to the hospital/nursing home again. Which is a good thing as far as caretaking goes, in that she won't have to live that exhausting existence anymore and he'll have the care he needs. But also it means she's more available to suck one into a conversation, and I hate talking to her. Because as regularly mentioned and oft-noted, she is a hag. So I'm totally happy for her! but she still sucks. 

We're on a SuperMario kick here, in which mommy conquers new worlds and N.Lo thinks I'm wicked awesome. And he has that video game brain that daydreams and devises new plans. But hell if I can't conquer the volcanic hellfire that is World 8! I secretly want to play without an audience sometimes just to make some strides. 

I love church as usual but am currently maxed with it - in accordance with hormonalness - blah. Stupid leadership and bible study - don't. wanna - any of it. But I don't know. Potluck et al tonight could be a welcome distraction from springbreaking? If the brownie fairy would come and make some for me or whatever. 

Onward to another day with library, futile-freelance, puppy-play and not-killing the children!

xoxox

pen 

pass the zyrtec

Or something? I feel like it's allergy season, officially. Or else I'm tired from camping, or allergic to DST, or... We tried to release the butterflies today, but they wouldn't go. We got all four out, but then they just looked sad and unmoving and basically cold. Butterflysicles, and I didn't want to chance their death. So we packed them back up. I did however hold one on my finger for quite awhile. And they're way prettier as butterflies! no longer in their gremlin state.

So here are my pictures from the weekend. The good parts. Puppies are photographically inspiring, of course, as are lakes and docks and abandoned houses/tobacco barns/lonely chimneys in the woods. 

Six days until 35! And two days until the anniversary of my first date with J.Lo. What! Amazing AND true. For birthday, there will be fish tacos for dinner (they are the best EVER) and turtle cupcakes. (Flavor, not form.) Chocolate, caramel, oh my. 

Tell me how you're faring over there! after that long long bus ride to the next place. Without an ipod. But also without DST. Or, I hope, seasonal allergies! You'll also have to expound again on allergies because I feel like I missed a thread - I know you can't eat pork, but you can eat biscuits again?! Does that mean you could eat fish tacos, I ponder...  

dear old-same,

Look at you with your motorbike riding self! Now if you're ever on Amazing Race, you know you can handle any challenge involving a clutch. Whereas I'd still be screwed on that (and bungee jumping and spelunking). I loved your story! And I feel like over time and with practice you'd absorb what you'd need to absorb, no longer overthink and it'd become part of you.

And the sheeple. I mean. Yes, to all of your thoughts. And I do think you captured the wild ride, I mean beyond the bike-ride, the sense of place - the clipped rooster, the van driver with questionable yet common humor, the roads just running on through.

I'm on the same page with wah - life is hard sometimes. The child sickday, the snowday, the rescheduled a thousand times interview, and then they never called back after the snowday, and I'm just over it? I mean open to the interview if it ever happens, but also sort of deflated and trying to remain hopeful rather than dispirited. Although there's nothing that's looked remotely appealing over the past week, as far as applying for more things.

And then in freelance land, the aforementioned completely messed with my schedule and I've still failed to complete my article. Suck. Post-camping, it will get done, but I'm no less antsy about it. And then I tend to get meta-antsy on top of that, pondering the epic investment of time that freelancing involves and the payoff that's probably not worth it, but maybe? The spark of hope flickers on. I don't know. I shouldn't think so much or look down at the road lest I veer off and well - you know.

That car commercial J.Lo posted on FB? Let's talk about that for a second. I mean never have I wept so copiously over a commercial. But it's like Bailey's story! The little puppy and then grown dog, her faithful presence as the guy's life progresses from single-life to relationship to family. And by the end her muzzle is gray and FOR THE LOVE OF - . I can barely handle it.

Oh, so there are butterflies! Four of them. And I didn't see any of them emerge from their cocoons, they all just appeared at intervals and I scratched my head over it, but then it's not like they cause a great noisy commotion, being lighter than air. And ew with the spots of red all over their house that I don't like to think about. But today I added some flowers, which they really, really like, as opposed to the sugar-soaked wadded-up kleenex you can use instead. Imagine. And we're going to take them camping and release them there.

I have anxiety about camping - it's like going for the first time again, with the cabin. Because in theory you know what they have there and what you don't have to pack, but in reality you're still going to forget something that's probably important. And how will the puppy do. Will she nip heels and pee all over the place? I mean more so than usual. And those damn pizzas  bought for tonight were so big they don't fit in my fridge. Unwieldy! Overall it seems like I'm bringing way too much food, but obviously I'll bring home leftovers. It's just those pizzas sending me over the edge.

So I'm up (camping, yay!), I'm down (life anxiety, boo), I'm all over town. But floating on okay...
love to you and may you happen on more magical characters in your unfolding tale,
pen

pass the spatula

I need it to scrape my jaw off the floor re: your encounters. Casual brushes with sextrafficking! A DEAD BODY by the side of the road! I mean. Wow. Also I found the whole experience with this noncommunicative family bizarre and offputting, but then you soldiered through so well. And is that a cultural thing or maybe just a family-cultural thing to have this noninclusive approach to guests? I feel like it was just them. Because it sounds like in spite of the procedural differences abroad you've still encountered warmth and the effort to accommodate or welcome. Like that at least doesn't have to be lost in translation.

Aw, you're going home-home! It's settled! I'm sad not to see you but remain hopeful about our eventual meeting. And you'll back to your place and your people and seek a job and pack some boxes and chain yourself to the lot trees just as you should. Oh, and help aa move into her new abode!

Puppy has pretty much lost her fuzz and jelly legs, already. So, so fast it goes. But you know. Like children, you enjoy the stages and forgo lamenting the progression of time. So help me if I turn into that old lady who accosts the weary mom with the screaming toddler at Target and tells her to ENJOY EVERY SECOND of this beautiful misery. Puppy fuzz goes out the window, but so does waking up allnightlong. Squishy skin and a tiny form morph into a furry little girl who knows the drill and how awesome is she for that.

Also, at the moment, she's lying on my foot. I feel her heartbeat.

This morning I'm missing oldtestament Bible Study and a meeting because oh, K.Lo has the Death Cold. Of course she does. Just when J.Lo was getting over it. Please affix the IV of wine to my vein immediately. Yesterday she hid under a blanket on the couch all day and today it's a lot of sniffling and vocalized misery - "Mommy, I don't feel good." Um. I know. My sweet, sweet dear. And I know how much this particular virus-thing sucks, and I hate it for her. While at the same time battling my own selfishness/anxiety over the things I want/need to accomplish this week (articles, interview, agenda meeting, prep for CABIN CAMPING this weekend) and trying to trust it will all work out.

Sort of related, I'm wondering if I'm evolving into more of a morning person? - I loathe the actual waking up - so brutal, wretched and I fight it with every fiber of my being. But once over that hurdle I have this air of chutzpah over allthethings I might accomplish during the day. And then as the day wears on, I can practically see the battery/energy indicator over my head as it drains from green to red and by say, 9:30 p.m. I'm so done. Wall, hit. Battery, needs charging. Whereas in the past of my wholelife I feel like I was more productive in the afternoons, and said screw it both the morning and night. Hmm.

May you have a beautiful evening/day ahead ~
penelope

ho hey, ho hum

Good morning or evening, as the case may be,
At the moment I'm extremely restless, but this hasn't been the norm. No, it's more - wake up, J.Lo, so we can make some biscuits! and the puppy can quit clamoring for your presence already. And the coffee hasn't cooled enough to sip, and I'm too scared to open the biscuit can. And dagnabbit, the puppy keeps chewing on your shoes and my pillowcases. Oh my.

But anyway. Let's talk about madskillz in the Goodwill shopping dept. Ooo, I would so love to go to one or three of your Goodwills in LA. Because if I'm finding decent stuff here (The Loft! Old Navy! Express! J.Crew!) I can only imagine what I'd find there. So far I've added to my wardrobe for outrageously minimal expense: dress shoes, dress pants, a skirt, multiple shirts - some dressy but mostly casual, a sweater, a cardigan, a pair of cords and a pair of jeans. Some of it mildly flawed, of course (like how am I going to get the sharpie-d on price of $4.99 off the bottom of that one pair of shoes?), but some of it remarkably unworn looking. A month ago before I understood the sale system, I had tried on a bunch and wanted to walk out with it all, but then the sale items were explained, and I sighed and put most of it back. But then! I realized most of this stuff probably wasn't going anywhere, so each week I come back and pilfer the things that are currently $1. It's like a game, I admit, and I'm most amused by my take-home clothes-lotto winnings. And then - because I've done a barely adequate job of maintaining a proper wardrobe over approximately the last 10 years, I trade out - with the old. In with the new. All my shit goes back to Goodwill to possibly make someone else happy.

Whatelse. My interview was rescheduled for Tuesday @ 9:30 a.m. EST so everyone think Good Thoughts during that time. I'm waiting for ANTM to start again, even though I secretly hate it. I'm ready for spring! Because it looks like spring some days, but then it's just too chilly to abide. And the other day (maybe Thursday?) was completely gray, dank and like a weather personification of these crap-ass death colds that have been incessantly circulating around our family. J.Lo is on the mend and me too, but now the children are hacking. What on earth. Die germs! already.

I've been working on an article for a digital magazine, randomly, about traversing the world of organics, and segued in my research to find a CSA that we're totally going to join. Since we can do a quarter bushel every week for 24 weeks, for slightly more than $10/week. I feel like it's an awesome plan to supplement our garden yields.

Speaking of plants, I'm still devastated by proxy about your lot being taken all apart. All the symbolism and magic that went with it falls, also. So unfair.

I still have to blog about those creepy, I mean awesome, caterpillars. They're all in full chrysalis at the moment, waiting. evolving under wraps. And totally gross looking in their crunchy, gray, unassuming state. Well, but it's' true!

Ugh, now the children are demanding to be fed. How rude.
Will e you more in a bit - xo,
your penelaotang

dearest oldsame,

Laos! The last part of your journey has arrived. Or you have arrived to it. I cannot be-lieve your long-loved knife was taken, and how vexing that its fate was due to an oh-so-simple lapse in human mindfulness, a mere glitch in the everything-is-in-its-proper-place-for-my-next-phase-of-travel rundown. Ach. Eff. It's so. unfair!

The LentenFestival-retreat-type weekend was delightful in the end. A lot of leadup, and some trepidation over it being all-too-much and worrying over the success of things like the Easter Garden. But the garden was successful, as was the decoupage, and both were displayed during Sunday service and officially dedicated in prayer. I mean. Thankfully I wasn't asked to stand or anything, but it was both mortifying and beautiful at the same time. The garden came out so. good. And not just aesthetically, but everyone old and young alike seemed to love it. It lives on in the Fellowship Hall, where I hope it will receive enough light and whateverelse it needs to stay alive or even thrive. Hopefully not die. We'll see.

All the rest - bells was a success. Our variety show portion I mean. I think people got it. And the rest of the show was a delightful blend of young and old, talent and silliness, magic shows and a keyboard performance and the tango. And then a synchronized swimming skit by a group of the older men that was totally posted on youtube, so I'm sending you a link. Saturday after gardening and birdhousing and musicalinstrument-making, I went around the hobby showcase to see the things people delve into in their ordinary lives - again, how delightful. Coins and photos and felting (like actual spinning of the material) and robots and art. And I briefly learned to knit. I think I'm officially sucked into the knitting group on occasional Thursdays, though it's doubtful how long my schedule will abide. But the older ladies in that group were just so. pleased. that I might be interested, how can I say no now. Hmm.

I miss you and hope you come to visit soon, even if it's not in March. But I hope it's in March - is that even a possibility still? I haven't tallied all the places you've been monetarily thwarted and spent to see if you can come here first before Cali, even though probably you are completely yearning to be back in your true homeland, not just stateside, and I completely understand that. If I won the scratch-off lottery and were able to buy a plane ticket, I'd visit you tomorrow. And take puppy with me.

The caterpillars, which I have yet to blog about but I'll fill in the gaps shortly I promise, lie dormant in full chrysalide mode on the dining room table. Today is rain and cold and some homemade soup I think. March holds: more jobhunting, cabincamping, consignmentsale-ing, 35thbirthday!-ing, fairtradesale-organizing, oh and Easter. And planting! Right? Some flowers and some lettuce at least.
love to you in laos-land,
penelaotang.

MORE PUPPY

How is one to resist Sophie Charms. First pic by J.Lo. Second, Sophie looks up to her larger counterpart, however dubious a role model. Last, two failed but somehow brilliant attempts at selfies w/ puppy.