Most of the time I eat healthy. I really do. We try hard to follow a nutritarian diet: get as many nutrients as you can for every calorie you eat. There are lots of junk foods we forego and I think nothing of it.  

But if you know me, you also know I have a sweet tooth. For super dark chocolates, first and foremost.

But I also love to bake.

Especially at Christmas.

So I won't waste any time telling you why you shouldn't partake of any seasonal sweets right now, because the point of this post is to share with you an amazing recipe I just found for peanut butter fudge.

How nutritarian is that? Well, not at all. 

And I'm not caring right at this moment.

Yesterday, my mail contained a Penzeys Spices catalog. Are you familiar with Penzeys? I've been buying spices from them ever since my friend Lynnie made me aware of them several years ago. Aside from the enormous variety of spices they offer at what I consider to be fairly reasonable prices, they are a small, family-owned and operated company with very positive values. And every catalog they send out is filled with recipes submitted by Penzeys spice users. It just gives you a cozy feeling every time you flip through it.

And lo and behold, this issue's cover had a plate of Christmas baking items on it. Including my all-time Christmas favorite: Peanut Butter Fudge.

Why in the world this is only a Christmas treat to me, I couldn't say. It could be perfectly delicious year-round, but for some reason, I only really want to make it during this season!

But I've had trouble finding a really good recipe. One that tastes great and doesn't get too dry. And I'd prefer one that didn't require me to stir boiling liquids while simultaneously checking the temperature for a "soft ball" stage. Nor do I want to take the easy route and come up with something less than perfect...

On a whim, I made this recipe in all of 20 minutes and can honestly say I've never had any better than this.

I take no credit for it - it was submitted by a Julie Eesley from Omaha, NE. Hats off to you, Julie!

Without further ado, here is it. If you're a fan of PB Fudge, get to work. It's worth it!

Peanut Butter Fudge

3/4 cup evaporated milk

2 cups sugar

2 TB butter

1 1/8 cups creamy peanut butter

2 cups marshmallow cream (I used a small tub without measuring)

1 tsp. pure vanilla extract

Grease an 8x8 inch pan and set aside.

Over a medium heat, heat the milk, sugar and butter to a rolling boil, stirring often (it takes about 6-8 minutes to get here). Boil for 5 minutes, stirring often. Remove from the heat and blend in the peanut butter, marshmallow cream and vanilla.

Spread in the pan and let cool in the fridge for several hours before cutting.

Prep time: 5 minutes

Cooking time: 15 minutes

Yield: 36 pieces

You know how there are days when it seems that everything that can fall apart does exactly that? 

We've had several of those days in a row. And they make life quite interesting.

Not to say that we haven't managed to enjoy our Thanksgiving holiday immensely, because we really have...but circumstances have done their best to try to prevent that.

Long story short, we picked up a  3 day stomach bug last Tuesday that started with Dorien and ran through August and finally, Brooklyn.  We managed to spend a few days at our Farm with the rest of my family (when we thought we were all in the clear as far as viruses) that was thoroughly enjoyable...

until the rest of the family began falling victim to assorted bugs as well.  By this morning, just about every other person at the Farm was throwing up and running a fever or experiencing some other unpleasant symptom indicative of a virus. Dorien even had something hit him (again) so hard we almost took him to the ER! Fortunately, it didn't come to that.

Suffice it to say, early this morning, everyone abandoned ship at the Farm hours earlier than planned and returned to our respective houses. Right now, Brooklyn is nauseous and moaning. She doesn't handle sickness well. AT. ALL.

And to top it all off, today is Kyle's birthday!!! And to celebrate it, everything that can go wrong, has. 

Just about.

Returning Renee to Hendricks, Kyle unexpectedly got stuck in a random traffic snarl adding half an hour to his trip.  He was in line to return a movie at RedBox and as soon as he got up to the box, the whole machine shut down - out of order.  I managed to somehow knock off an antique flower planter in my bathroom, shattering it and spilling dirt absolutely everywhere. I made dinner for our family and Kyle and I were the only ones who ate it.  We piled in the car to go pick out our Christmas tree at Home Depot, only to find that they closed 10 minutes before we got there.  And we tried another choice which was, of course, also closed.   To make matters worse, Kyle is about to go out of town for 2 nights, making Wednesday the earliest we can get a tree. He's then out of town again the next two nights, leaving the decorating of our tree to next weekend! Once my kids realized this, they were so upset, as were Kyle and I.  

So to ease the disappointment, we drove through a frozen custard place (a rare treat for us) and placed our orders only to discover, as the lady was making them, that they only take cash or checks. 

We had a grand total of $6 cash on our persons and no checks.

At this realization, Kyle and I promptly burst into hysterical laughter, much to the dismay of the cashier. 

"Of course you only take cash or checks! It's just that kind of day!!!" 

She promptly quirked her eyebrow at us, closed her window and started making our custards. To which Kyle and I immediately began yelling and honking to get her attention - "Stop! Cancel the order!!! Or at least part of it!!!" She either didn't hear or ignored us. 

And when she opened her window next, she said, "Tell you what, do you live around here?" 

"Yes," we replied.

"Ok, give me the cash you have and come back in the next few days with the difference."

And she wrote the amount and our names on a card and gave us our order in full.

This little unexpected kindness was so huge to us, given the domino effect of unlucky events that have comprised this holiday week, that I almost cried. And hugged her. And offered to cook her a four course dinner. Or knit her a hat. Anything.

I doubt she expects us to return to pay her back, but you better believe I'm going to. That little bit of kindness was just what we needed today. And it possibly salvaged Kyle's birthday. 

In case you've had the same kinds of days, or things seem to just fall apart left and right...hang in there.  There is always a bright spot somewhere.  Something worth being thankful for. It could always be worse.

And there's always plenty of blue sky.

And here is my backyard, with Singer waiting patiently to come in. 

And a carpet of yellow leaves that positively GLOWS all day long. Just looking out this door makes me joyful, which is good because lately I have been sick with pneumonia and felt extremely cruddy. It's nice to have things that infuse you with joy even as you cough up your left lung.

 Happy Weekend!

I'm beginning to think I see a light at the end of this tunnel.

 

Just maybe.

For the past month, it seems we have been battling bugs and viruses and colds and icks. I shouldn't complain, really, because it hasn't happened to us in a long time. I think our recent succumbing to illness could be directly related to our not eating quite as many salads and veggies as we should be. And instead, eating candy that we collected on Halloween that we probably should NOT be eating. Even though we're eating it sparingly, like, 2 pieces per day. 

It's just a theory.

It started with Dorien coming down with a cough/fever/sinus infection. I went as long as I could without taking him to the doctor when it just became clear that he was losing the battle against his many inflictions. His cough sounded like wet gravel, his nose was raw from running and being wiped, he moaned and whined and clung to my leg like Dorien-shaped leggings. He was the picture of misery. Our doc took a look at his ears and oh, yes, double ear infections. And his nose - ok, pretty bad up there too. And his throat...yep, that looks horrid.  And promptly prescribed us antibiotics. 

I hate antibiotics for so many reasons, although realistically I am also grateful for their existence when it nips prolonged agony in the bud. But of course, nothing is ever that easy, and Dorien immediately exhibited an allergic reaction to his antibiotics and broke out in a rash head to toe. And it drove him crazy.

So, our doc switched him from that one to two others. I was even more reluctant to take two at a time, but my alternatives were less attractive. I gave him the meds and he immediately began to feel better and his rash is slowly going away.

Just in time for church on Sunday where, as a Classroom Support Leader for the nursery hallway, I witnessed two kids in the 4 year old hallway puking on said hallway. My August was in a class with one of the pukers.  Great...

And sure enough, on the way home from church, Brooklyn (strangely, not August) began throwing up. It lasted a delightful 24 hours. She does not do sick gracefully. She moans like she's giving birth. Come to think of it, maybe she was practicing. She tends to be rather dramatic. And just as she began to perk up, August started running a fever and had the same rash in his mouth that Dorien had. I think he's beginning to feel better, and without the aid of anything other than Motrin for his high fevers. Crossing my fingers and saying extra long prayers for my kiddos.

And now I have a cold and have blown my nose more times than seems possible and yet I'm still stuffy. 

On the positive side, though, the trees around my house are gloriously on fire right now. Just looking out my windows brings me great joy and peace.  And Singer, our Golden, is finally mature enough to sleep on the foot of our bed and keep my feet warm at night. I love that about having a big dog. 

I have also made tremendous progress on several hand-made Christmas gifts and have read several good books and seen God's grace in my life over and over.  

So, even when fevers rise, coughs persist, tummies ache, fingers crack and noses run...I can be joyful in the midst of it.  His grace is sufficient for me every moment of every day.

And this little clip was taken right before lights out in our room and Dorien grabbed my contact case and showed me that he knew EXACTLY how the contact removal process works. Amazing. He's obviously seen me do it enough times. 

A few months ago, a co-worker of Kyle's told him about a British mystery show that he really liked: Foyle's War. It was interesting, historically accurate and best of all, available at our public library. Kyle thought it was something I might like and he checked out one.


We were hooked, big-time.
The show is set in Hastings, England during early WWII, a time period which Kyle and I both found fascinating and extremely educational.

The main character is Detective Chief Superintendent Christopher Foyle, (played by Michael Kitchen). He has a team of two others who are incredibly likeable, but of all characters I have ever seen on TV, DCS Foyle has to be my favorite. He's handsome, intelligent, classy, droll...he's classic. He pauses in a certain way when speaking...he quirks his mouth...he tilts his head...he always wears great suits...he is Christopher Foyle. And he has an amazing way of putting bad guys in their place in a way that Kyle and I call "getting Foyled." Although if Foyle isn't around and his Sergeant Milner has to take care of business, you run a more than fair chance of "Getting Milnered." Which is just as fun.

It turns out there were 6 seasons with about 3 episodes per season. But each episode is movie length - an hour and a half.  Kyle and I would put the kids to bed, grab our laptop and sit in bed and watch Foyle until, sadly, we watched all the seasons and were feeling very sad and missing British accents and British detectives and British countryside scenes and mostly, Michael Kitchens.

But then we discovered another British investigator,  Inspector Morse. Slightly less likeable as a character, but brilliant in his own way, we transferred our loyalty to him. He's grumbly, grouchy, but highly cultured. Once again, movie length episodes, set in beautiful England (mostly in Oxford) with clever plots and interesting personal quirks.


Then, we got sidetracked briefly with another British series, Prime Suspect, starring a favorite actress, Helen Mirren. I love her. It's gritty, raw, much more urban than the other two. It never left me feeling uplifted like Foyle and Morse. And truthfully, Kyle and I only made it through Season 1 of the British version of Prime Suspect before searching for more uplifting, cleverly written episodes that transported us to British countryside rather than cheap London flats. The initial season was set in 1991, so obviously that's quite different from the mid-30's.


After abandoning Prime Suspect (which has since been made into a US version), we switched back to more pleasant murder mysteries in the form of Agatha Christie!
Specifically, Jane Marple.
Or, as we refer to her around here...

Marple.

My kids ask us all the time, "Momma, Daddy, are you gonna Marple it tonight?" Marple has become a verb much in the same way that Foyle did in our house.


Oh, I can't tell you how much I love these Marples....Geraldine McEwan as Jane Marple is sublime. I kid you not, she is brilliant. She hobbles around like she's 90 years old, then outwits every detective she comes across. She has a Foyle-like tendency to put people in their places without so much as losing a hint of the twinkle in her eye. She is awesome. (And also, feature length episodes...Yeah!!!)

So, imagine our surprise when we work our way through the Series to suddenly find ourselves watching a different Jane Marple! Who was this imposter??

Julia McKenzie is who she is. After several seasons, Geraldine McEwan handed over the Marple mantel and ok, after a few episodes of McKenzie as Marple, I'm getting used to her. She's different and slightly less quirky, but she does the job justice and brings her own special charm to the picture.


As it stands now, Kyle and I have practically exhausted the library's holdings of British murder mysteries, which is a crying shame as they are fantastic! I think there may be a few more jewels out there we have yet to discover. At least I hope so.

I don't know what I'll do when I run out of British countrysides, thatched-roof houses, ancient manor houses, British accents, rambling gardens, tea, knitting old ladies, and death in the lanes. I realize that sounds kind of morbid, but it's just the truth. We're hooked and can't get enough!

And for those of you who happen to also love Foyle, supposedly they are going to film another season in 2013. I can't wait!

I confess that I'm not very good at planning surprises. 

I don't plan them often enough. 

But for some reason, a few months ago, well before our anniversary, I got the idea to plan a surprise "get away" with Kyle.  I did some research and picked a local Bed and Breakfast, The Rosement, that sounded just right, and made a reservation. And then tried very very hard not to give away my surprise to Kyle!

I know people do this kind of thing all the time, but I do not like to leave my kids overnight. And neither does Kyle. It isn't that I don't think they can't function without me, I just miss them terribly when they're not with me. As does Kyle.  It may have something to do with attachment parenting, but in any case, our kids are with us constantly and we like it that way. We have the most fun when they're with us and never want them to be away.

BUT, I really wanted to surprise Kyle with something unexpected and romantic and I decided it would involve an overnight treat. And he had no clue. I only told him to take off work Friday, October 25 and to leave work a little early Thursday afternoon. He knew we were going to do something, obviously, but he had no clue what it would be.

I had arranged for my mom to keep the kids at our house (which made me more comfortable with the idea of leaving them for a night) and had already packed a bag for me and Kyle. When he showed up at the house, he was surprised to find my mom there and even more surprised when I had him get in the car without changing clothes or putting anything together. 

And boy, was he was stunned when we pulled in the driveway of the B&B. He never dreamed I'd plan something away from our kids!

I had everything planned out. We would change clothes and go play tennis for an hour on a court I had rented. Which was so much fun! We used to play tennis all the time before we had kids and we both miss it, so it was great to really play together. Then, after changing clothes at our B&B, we went out to dinner together at one of our favorite restaurants, Lilly's Dim Sum and Then Some, and then came back to our cozy room for a romantic evening. It was pure bliss.

I had picked a room that was actually a cottage and was separate from the main house. Which meant that we never had to see another single soul. It was divine! 

The other perfect thing about our room was that it felt like an English cottage.  Hardwood floors, a fireplace, a little kitchen, a huge jacuzzi tub...it was seriously the coziest place ever. Not to mention that it stormed during the night and we woke up to a 30 degree temperature drop outside! And the inn delivered breakfast to our room! 

For our Friday together, I had to include the kids because I had had a great idea! We borrowed a huge canoe from some friends of ours, picked up a picnic lunch from Boulevard Bread Company and then went canoeing on Two Rivers Park. It was beautiful with the changing colors of the trees, the stillness of the water and the brisk air. We had such a great time. 

And yes, I was so excited to see my kids when we picked them up that morning, but also, YES, I loved the mini-break with just me and my beloved. I'm not sure nights away are something I can handle with frequency, but it just may be something worth doing every now and then. 

Twelve years.

How quickly it goes by and how strangely slow at the same time. 

Twelve years ago, Kyle and I stood at an altar before our friends and family and pledged our lives to each other. And not a moment has passed - not a second - in which I questioned that decision. I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Kyle is the man God made for me. And I for him.

I can't begin to tell you how much fun I've had with Kyle over the past 12 years. Truthfully, every year since I've known him. And I met him at UofA's freshman orientation, summer of 1995. I was 17, about to turn 18 in a month and a half. And I was not expecting to meet my future husband during a weekend orientation event. But I did.

I remember when my little sister Rachel turned 17 and I thought, "Wow, that's the age I met Kyle. It seems so YOUNG! How could I possibly have felt as absolutely SURE as I did?" And yet I did. It's just one of those things you know deep down in your bones and there's no getting over it. He was for me and I for him.

Kyle captivated me from the first moment - with his good looks, his beautiful smile, his gorgeous brown eyes, his wit, his humor, his artistic gifts and creativity, his understanding and compassion, his strength and leadership, his love for the Lord, his steadiness, his intelligence...I could fill pages with his amazing attributes.  And twelve years later, he continues to captivate me. For all those reasons and then some.

He has been patient and steady to my fire and drive. He is thoughtful and considered when I would flare up and act. He is wise. He is unselfish and generous. God has done amazing things in our lives together...we've both grown so much spiritually, for starters. We've both learned even more fully how to surrender the course of our lives to the Lord and been so fantastically blessed as we've done so.

We have been blessed with three amazing, beautiful children who delight us continually.  We are blessed with lots and lots of laughter and joy, even though life is not always easy.  We have been blessed with wonderful jobs and bosses and so many amazing friends that it is utterly humbling. We are fortunate to have found a church full of like-minded believers who have become our family and our friends as we strive together to walk closer to the Lord. We have been blessed with beloved family members and sisters-in-laws and nieces and nephews who've stolen our hearts and become the friends of our children. 

We have learned to wait on the Lord together and seek His will together. We have learned that marriage is wonderful. Especially when you marry your best friend and fall more in love with them every single day.

I love you, Kyle. More than you can fathom.

I'm honored to be your wife of 12 years and your soul-mate. 

Happy 12th Anniversary!

Is there any obvious connection between those two, you might be asking yourself.

And that is a good question. And a very distinct possibility. One that just emerged into my consciousness as I wrote the words.

Rosetta Stone is a program to learn a foreign language. As of yesterday, I began the Rosetta Stone program to learn Spanish. Brooklyn, August and Dorien sat with me and we went through 3 lessons. We enjoyed it.

My brother Michael is fluent in Spanish and loaned me the program. He actually didn't become fluent using the program, but he was curious about whether it would work for us.

Interestingly, Michael is also the thread connecting both Rosetta Stone and wounds, in my world.

A few days ago, Michael and I were on the phone and in the way that the Holy Spirit has, things fell into place in such a way that my younger brother unknowingly, touched on some very sensitive spots in my heart and spoke straight to them. I know the Holy Spirit was speaking through him, and it was a very humbling, precious moment.

Michael is currently involved in the Thirty3 Bible study at our church, which is a variation of Men's Fraternity (written by Robert Lewis) that Kyle went through several years ago. As part of the process to help men become the MEN God designed for them to become, he has them analyze wounds in their lives. I don't know all the points of the study, but I do know he specifically discusses at least two types of wounds:

The Mother Wound

and 

The Father Wound.

No matter how well-adjusted you are, or how great your family is, there are always wounds, he says. Maybe just a splinter, maybe a huge gash. It's best to identify and deal with all of them in order to be healthy and free from bitterness. Many people have big wounds that have been left untended for years, resulting in bitterness, depression, lack of responsibility, blame-shifting, you name it. They can become gangrene to a person's soul. It's a serious thing.

Robert Lewis was the first person to write a study addressing these wounds and their significance in a man's life and what to do with them.  What I don't believe has ever been addressed is the impact Mother Wounds and Father Wounds have on the lives of women. As profoundly as I know they impact men, I believe their impact on women is equal.

And very possibly, unaddressed.

I've seen and participated in studies on strongholds, but I believe this is a very different thing.

A wound is not the same thing as a stronghold. It can be inflicted as the by-product of a generational stronghold, but I don't think it is dealt with the same way. Spiritually-speaking.

In spite of the fact that I know I was raised in an incredible family by two incredible parents, there is no doubt in my mind that I have wounds that affect who I am today. Affect my interactions with those in my life and affect my role as a wife and mother. Dealing with those wounds is something I'm not sure I've ever done.

And as Michael and I spoke the other day and tears welled up in my eyes, it occurred to me that it was perhaps time to begin that process.  Not even sure where it was to lead. But knowing that it would be good for me, for Kyle, for my kids and my relationship with my family.

So that leads me to the language connection.

When interacting with an individual who doesn't speak your language, you compensate. Possibly with hand motions, facial expressions, the VOLUME with which you speak (oddly enough), or most practically, with translators.

Languages are tricky, complicated beasts. Full of nuances, exceptions, slang, facial cues and body language. Nothing simple about them. Even a language that is your own can be complicated to navigate. Put two people together who speak different languages and come from different cultures and you are on tenuous ground. Who knows what will be unwittingly said or implied? What offenses innocently committed? Wars have been fought over misunderstandings exacerbated due to language barriers and cultural barriers. Wars both globally and perhaps within the four walls of the house in which you were raised. 

This is where I find myself in a state of contemplation.

To what extent are the wounds I bear the result of not speaking the same language with those around me? And I don't mean English.  

We speak and act out of the core of who we are. And that core is shaped by experiences, our upbringing, certain social norms, the time period in which we grow up, our socio-economic class, our education, our faith, our expectations, our perception of the world, our insecurities, the strongholds we are affected by, and in turn, adopt, as well as wounds inflicted on us by others. 

In short, we each bring a language to the table. 

We too often assume the language spoken by our parents or our siblings is the same as the one we are speaking. And vice versa. And this is where wounds are inflicted and wars begun.

What if, instead of just identifying the wounds and coming to terms with them, you prevent re-wounding by learning the languages around you. That seems to make sense to me. 

It seems clear to me that examining the wounds themselves will require honesty, introspection and sifting through some bad, unwanted memories. Then comes forgiveness and grace. As God is so liberal with his grace and forgiveness towards us. It needs to be said. It's too easy to cling to the injustice of the wounds without extending grace and forgiveness. And that accomplishes nothing.

The next step is identifying the reasons behind those wounds. Which brings me back to languages.

One thing that is crystal clear is that there is a Relationship Enemy. Satan. Coincidentally also God's primary enemy.  If God creates relationships and desires for them to be parallels with the relationship we can have with Him, then it makes sense that his enemy will attack and attempt to undermine, destroy and poison every relationship he can. Wife to husband. Mother to child. Father to child. Sibling to sibling. In order to bring pain to God and to those God loves. You. Me.

And here's where it just gets frustrating. Because not only do we end up speaking different languages than our parents and siblings, Satan interferes by further distorting the message and twisting it into outright lies. Talk about a translator with a hidden agenda. Don't believe a word he says.

And yet we do. We misunderstand due to a "language barrier" and Satan turns it into a different message ENTIRELY once it registers in our brain.

The recognition of these things is critical, I think.  What things? 

1) the wounds themselves

2) the reasons behind them

3) Satan's further interference

It isn't something that can be tackled in a 15 minute window. And it doesn't leave you feeling warm and fuzzy. Rather, vulnerable and scarred and flawed. But, I believe, if we address these wounds and begin working on learning some new languages, perhaps....just perhaps...we will find our wounds healing, fewer new wounds being inflicted (both ways), and possibly restoration between battle-weary family members.

Lucky you, my sweet reader, to be present as my brain works to make connections between wounds and language and simultaneously begin attempting to uncipher the implications in such a connection. 

It must be a Wednesday.

I sit here on the hardwood floors of my bedroom with a fan blowing (pointed at my bed, not me). On the bed, Dorien is sound asleep buried under a quilt. Periodically, I hear a sniff from him. Down the hall, Brooklyn is spending her nap time playing (mostly) quietly in her room. She sings to herself, draws, rearranges her toys and sketch pads (of which there are many). Every now and then I have to go whisper to her to please be quieter. This is because August's room is right next to hers. And even though his fan is on and he is also buried under quilts and sound asleep, enough noise generating from the direction of Brooklyn's room will wake him up.

I realize it is now 4:08 and I wonder how. The kids and I woke up at our usual 9:30, threw piles of laundry around (clean stuff onto the extra bed in August's room and dirty stuff into the washer), ate eggs and toast, got dressed and did our schoolwork.  I don't do this often, but we actually didn't get any school at all worked in yesterday, unless you count the everyday lessons of maneuvering mini grocery carts at Kroger, locating the shaving gel and scanning items at the self-checkout.

Today as we were doing school, most successfully, I might add with relief, I asked the kids what today is (for our calendar stuff) and Brooklyn chirped TUESDAY! How she knew this, I don't know. I totally thought it was Monday. My six year old is more on the ball than me. 

We worked on number bonds today and managed to do so without breaking any mason jars. Last week, Dorien gleefully smashed two empty jars (emptied of their linking cubes) together and shattered them.

Dorien is mimicking the numbers the kids say, which can only be a good thing, right? 

He has gotten so much easier to work with during the kids' schooling. 

He likes to be involved, so we just find ways that he can be. Ways that don't involve glass breakage. Or crayon eat-age.

Brooklyn has lost her first tooth and it was a big moment for our household. There was little drama. It fell out one night as she was brushing her teeth. Fortunately, Kyle managed to snag the tiny thing before it fell into the drain. I almost cried. Brooklyn was beside herself with glee. And rightly so! Big moments!! The Tooth Fairy gave her a dollar. I'm not sure what teeth go for these days, but that seemed reasonable. 

 I received a package from PurlSoho yesterday and am hoping to begin work on some Christmas presents this week! I also got the latest Ken Follett book in from the libary - Winter of the World. It's huge and probably gonna get me, emotionally, as it covers the Holocaust and that always tears me up.

 Dorien is bound and determined to feed himself. Hence the enormous bib. 

Brooklyn made the hilarious comment the other day that she might never get out of car seat because she seems to be getting skinnier. Her exact words. Kyle and I howled with laughter. This is true. She is a rail. I love it. But she may not move out of her seat anytime soon. It was a funny observation. 

I also recently finished one of Kyle's favorite books last week - Enders Game. It was fantastic! I now have the second one at hand - Speaker for the Dead. Speaking of those...there are two super cool videos I'll share with you that Kyle did from a design perspective. My husband is way talented. 

Design Project - part ONE.

Design Project  - part TWO.

I am also doing some serious introspection along the lines of wounds. More on that later.

In the meantime, it has been very cool outside which means my a/c has been given a much-needed rest. We're wearing long sleeves and jeans (yes!!!) and I made cocoa the other day. It is my absolute favorite time of the year. And I am going to try hard not to be jealous as my husband spends the next few days in Chicago where it is even cooler and more fall-ish. 

That's where I am.