Motto

And sings my soul...these pretty happy things to me. 

 

Why I emptied my kitchen counters to my dining room table at 11:30 on a Wednesday night I'm not sure, but I did.  I blame it on The Lumineers album which has kept me bopping and mopping and rearranging tonight.  I also blame it on my need for inspiration in my environment.  Tomorrow morning, there will be excitement because I know I will be greeted by freshly arranged pretties as I walk out to find first cup of coffee. 

It's technically tomorrow right now but let's ignore that fact.  I'm in denial of the late night factor right now. 

And sings my soul...these pretty happy things to me. 

 

I do believe I came up with my life motto, with the clarification of things meaning not simply objects but moments which make happy.  More so than pesky things even.  Because those moments.  The small moments.  Are where it's at. 

 

And sings my soul...

 

While being surrounded by my four favorite little people after not seeing their faces for a couple weeks.  None of us could get enough squeezing.  Oh how I love them. 

 

Right down to their toes. 

 

...these pretty happy things to me. 

 



The First Afternoon

The Super Bowl game is happening in the other room right now and I'm sitting here.  In the little nook in my bedroom going through pictures from the Chicago trip I was able to be a part of last spring with a fellow teacher who is also a forever friend for our work with the reading council.  We attended the International Reading Association Spring 2012 Conference and it happened to be in Chicago, lucky for us.  That time in my life was such a whirlwind with events that stepped off the plane, came home, backed up the pictures to my computer, smiled to myself about the magical trip, and walked away.  On with busy spring life. 

 

And now here I sit.  Pretty near one year later.  Reliving the wonderful times we had and I'm smiling even more.  Loving those memories, almost stupefied at conversations and events which happened behind the pictures.  I don't know where to start...but start I must because this is my space to remember. 

 

The first afternoon.  Throwing our clothes on the bed to be swifly unpacked while in awe of how fitting to our personalities the room at the Palmer House Hilton was, cue sparkles in the counters.  And the hotel lobby's grandness just made me want to give the city a squeeze hug before I even settled.  Then on to enjoy the walk to the Italian House while taking in the downtown streets in the city, oh the city!  Once at the Italian House, we ate up bread with oil and drank down deep red wine while twinkly lights did their thing overhead.  And the best part, the part which made me know way down in my soul this Chicago and I were going to get along just fine, was having an elderly matradee who spoke with a rich Italian accent accost me after our meal.  I let him kiss me on the cheek and I let his hand wander down further than I should have because you know what?  I was in Chicago and I was going to love it up.  After all, I'd been there a whole two hours.   

 





Not a Whine Fest

We made it to February folks.  

I am aware it's just another day on the calendar, but can I get an AMEN that this morning maybe, possibly, just might have felt like one step closer to some springy spring?  

Like I had a moment of wanting to wear my heels without socks.  But then I remembered I live in North Dakota and the temperature outside was negative eight.  

So socks I put on and instead wore four shirts. 



But February!  It's here.  

And in years past, February has not been my best friend.  It tends to be the month when I question my entire existence.  Why do I teach?  Why do I live here?  Why do I have curly hair?  Why are my fingernails always breaking in the winter?  Why can I not for the life of me remember to buy light bulbs?  Or decaffeinated tea?  Why do I have to wake up and get dressed every single day?  Why is my middle name Beth?  

I mean really.  February has a nasty little track record in my book.  

But I'm making a vow.  Right here and right now.  This February will not be the whine fest of Februaries past.  There will be no calling Whine-1-1 going on over here.   

Side note.  When turning a month into a plural and it ends in a 'y' does one change the 'y' to an 'i' and add 'es' or does one use an apostrophe even though it doesn't show ownership but because it's a proper noun and probably should be pluralized in the first place does it break all rules then?  Again, this month shows lots of complexities!  

Here's to me figuring out some way to make February fun.  Right now I'm envisioning sewing red and pink and white felt hearts into a garland.  I think that's my first step.

 

Oh and then next I think I'll get me some of those felt balls I see flying around everywhere and make a wreath!  A wreath in February.  Yes that is the ticket.   

Pretty fixes things for me.  I can't fight it.  Instead, I roll.

Another side note.  I'm fairly certain whimsy might be favorite word ever.  Ever.  

 

 

And my grandma's locket.  Also my favorite.  Ever.  I have a lot of favorite evers I've noticed.