A Birthday and Rebirth Day

Easter is such a sweet reminder of the promise of renewal all around us.

Sometimes it's easy to feel as though life is just a slow progression from birth to death, and that each passing day adds to the patina of nicks and bumps we acquire along the way. Every morning I wake up older: this is a fact. In this world the laws of physics dictate that things wear out, wind down and fall apart.

But oh, Easter! Oh, Spring! Out of death comes rebirth in a cycle as old as life itself, a cycle into which we are all inextricably tied. Winter ends and ice melts. Seeds germinate and bulbs sprout. Yes, every Easter I am one year older, but inside... I am reborn.




Our celebration this year was small and lovely. No big fanfare, no egg hunt, no sunrise service... just the Zoglmans and Nana and Jordan, enjoying a lovely breakfast and spending some time in what I call the Church of Outdoors.
















Every Spring I get excited about new life, but this year I got to celebrate one new life in particular: Maya Rose, our dear little baby friend, turned one on April 9th! It has been such a privilege to watch her learn and grow over the last year. We love you, Rosey.

Our wonderful friends-- and Maya's lucky parents-- hosted a party for the birthday girl, complete with cupcakes, bubbles, and a horde of babies.

Perhaps for Geneva's first juice-box experience I should have picked something less extreme than JUICE BLAST! It's kind of blowing her mind...

We've all experienced this: your child learns some new trick, something that is sure to impress your friends and cement in their minds that your child is a genius. So you say "okay, kid, show us your new trick!"
...and this is the face you get:

Arg, I hate this. I'm sitting at the computer, practically in tears because despite having been working on this blog post for two hours-- and typing shockingly few words during that time-- I still haven't been able to convey how truly special these days were to me. World, I wish you knew what a blessing it is, deep down in my very core, to see the seasons turn and babies grow. I guess words will never be enough.

Passionate Loafer

I have boundless admiration for people who work hard at whatever they do, whether it's a career or a hobby or an art. I've always wanted to be one of those people who never seemed to sit still, who blaze through the house like a tornado in reverse and leave a trail of organization and creative genius in their wake. My personality seems to fit the role-- I'm passionate to an extreme degree, I see my home as my own personal blank canvas, and I like waking up fairly early. But you know what, folks?

I am lazy.

There, after two decades of being in denial, I'm finally committing it to print. Laugh if you like; this is not easy. Seriously. At every turn in my life, I try to make the choice that a hardworking person would make, and I've been telling myself that this means I'm a hard worker, too. I've been hauling around two decades' worth of guilt over silly things that it turns out I really enjoy doing:

staring out of the window and watching the neighbors
taking two hours to finish a cup of tea
extending my shower by a good ten minutes after I've finished washing
poking around on the internet and reading cheesy advice columns
looking at my own photo albums ad nauseum
hemming and hawing about what shoes to wear
eating food because I'm bored

Without getting too introspective, here's the conclusion I've reached: somewhere along the line I seem to have decided that lazy activities have less value than hardworking activities, when in truth I think I need a good helping of both in my life. I'll still try my very best to be an industrious person, but I have decided to stop flagellating myself for those moments when I realize I've just been blissfully spacing out. With those moments occurring less and less frequently anyway, I'll chalk it up to a quality of life issue and just enjoy it. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to ignore the laundry while eating ice cream and staring at the TV.

Nothing says white "trash" quite like...

... keeping a chicken brooder in the guest bedroom!

Mobility: a photo essay

One girl's journey across the nursery...

A Project

It's on the internet, so it must be official: my yard sale to benefit Partners in Health is becoming reality! I have the massive pile of donations in my basement and my advertisement on Craigslist to prove it (http://yakima.craigslist.org/gms/1671181115.html).

I'm actually terrified-- terrified of thugs stealing all of my merchandise in the night, or maybe terrified of crazy garage sale shoppers stampeding across my yard and leaving a swath of destruction in their wake. But beneath the terror is a queasy, stage-fright feeling that's something like excitement. I feel like this project is somehow bigger or more important than I even realized it would be.

I hope people show up.