Man, I can't believe I was sick on Christmas.

It made for a less whimsical fun time than I was hoping. All the ingredients were there-- my family, a frickin' GREAT Christmas dinner, even snow! A white Christmas in MISSISSIPPI!-- except good health. A lesson to appreciate the rude good health I usually have.

Pictures to follow.

This weekend

Adter the day of illness for me and between the morning and evening illness of K, we burnt leaves.

It was fun.

LIFE IN A NUTSHELL

K was gone and now he is home. The difference is that life is sweet when he's around; when he's gone, it's more of a drudge. (It must be love!) (Ya think?)

Some difficult store things going on that have resulted in me losing /firing a vendor. It makes me a little sick, really. I want to help people's businesses, not hurt them. But, of course, I had my reasons, and they're pretty compelling. But still.

Running my own business has been like a personal improvement course: I can't procrastinate, I can't let things slide, I have to have difficult conversations. For someone like me who hates it when people don't like me... it's been an education.

And Christmas is coming. My family is coming. The third year my mama and sister have trekked down to Mississippi, and I'm so glad. It wouldn't be Christmas without them. And this year, for the first time, we have TWO little kids who know what's going on. We're excited. They're excited. Annaliese has been going around saying, "Jesus's birthday is coming!"

So. We're doing. And vacation, our first-EVER, in 2+ weeks.

So much excitement.

Thank Goodness for Family Day.

I haven't been such a fan of these past three weeks. K's been traveling-- every week (in fact, he's gone again, until late Wednesday night.) I have had to work late at the store more than I like. I have a stomach bug. It's really cold. I found out today one of my main highlight vendors has begun selling her bread at the PigglyWiggly.

So thank goodness for Family Day, otherwise known as No-Work Day.

We take naps in shifts. We eat pancakes. K. makes dinner. We watch a movie, paint, stay in our pjs, have a dance party, read books, take mutiple baths.

It acts as a balm for the week that came before and a brace for the week to come.

And it's important to my little family, so we keep it as sacred as we can.

Happy Monday!

so what did y'all do?

we had lots of maple-syrup-sodden crabs (TYPO! BUT heh!) for breakfast.

decorated.

goofed around.

(they don't make $6 strollers in blue.)

lit our christmas tree, hung it with round ginger cookies, our small precious pile of ornaments, some lights.

goofed around some more, then took a nap.

lots of fun. this is going to be the best Christmas ever. I can feel it in my bones.

It's Wednesday

And K was home for a whole day before departing to Chicago, which means

1. I have to do all the dishes

2. I have to do things like get up early and lay clothes out and forego showers to leave the house only 20 minutes late

3. I don't have anyone to give me kisses and build fires

and 4.

I have to wash all the dishes.

I am officially TIRED. Busy, in a good way, but TIRED. I'd like a day off in an empty house to plant the rest of my bulbs and putter a little. Take a nap. But it ain't happening.

But! December 1st! In a little over a month I am going to both have a three-year-old AND be on vacation with my sweetie husband! How seriously rad is that?

It's nice to have such a full life.

Now I'm going to make a cup of coffee.

thanksgiving at bg

We went north and saw Caspian's godfather and my cousin.

My seester and Caspian's godmother.

My good-looking cousins.

And Annaliese, aka Uncle Ted, caught a huge brown trout.

Sometimes life is really nice.

These chickens.

I am pretty sure the kids are spreading dog food (dry) across the floor, but at least they are being quiet.

Where Ya Been?

I dunno. Dance class, farting around the house, feeding the babies special treat (they split half a piece of chocolate buttermilk cake the other night cos Mama loves them.)

Now a weekend is almost gone, and Auntie Caitlin is here and Dad and Eli were visiting and somehow, shockingly, it is late Sunday afternoon and I can't believe the Day Of Rest is almost over and it's another work week tomorrow.

Sigh.

November First, 2010

I can't believe it's November. I can't believe we've been married five years. I can't believe we have two kids, who are more and more decidedly kids and not infants.

It has gotten so much easier.

It's not easy all the time.

But it is so much easier.

We sleep. We play. We cuddle and read books and I can see how soon we'll be able to go on walks that are more fun and less exhausting.

We smile at each other.

We say thank you and give hugs and say I love yous and I'm sorry's and sleep tight.

One, two, three, four, Annaliese says, counting her family. That's right. We are a family of four. Her best friend is Addy Clair on Monday and Maddie BrockBrock (?) on Tuesday and Grayson and Braden on Wednesday but never Reese (she does not care for Reese). Caspian two weeks ago could say Mommy and Daddy and now he can say thank you and buh-bye and uht-oh and this weekend K swears he said pancake and medicine (in context, thank you).

Time is alflyin'.

Happy Halloween

Meet Monkey.

Princess Butterfly Faerie.

Thomas the Train, Princess Buterfly Faerie, romping during adults' beer-and-potty break (best idea ever).

It was fun.

Such A Nice Weekend With the Fam

Despite the incredibly juvenile pillow fight that K and I had last night which ended with him pulling a hair out of my temple and me headbanging him in the nose...

It was a really nice weekend.

Lots of waffles. We spent some time working outside. Annaliese taking breaks from her obsessive balloon-blowing to help K on the car, one or two or no kids riding the wheelbarrow of mulch I was carting around. We went to the library and to the best park we've ever gone to and watched Caillou and took a loooonnng Sunday nap that was in fact so long that BOTH of our children were awake and blowing raspberries at 10pm last night. (A first!).

Caspian says Mommy and Daddy and nods yes and shakes no and goes "sssss" if you ask him to say please. This morning I crouched down and said, I've got to go to work, buddy. Give me a hug. He gave me a gooey kiss instead and then waved bye.

Annaliese calls him nothing but "Brother" these days and alternately takes everything from him/tickles, coos, and plays with him. She is obsessed with these new Zutano leggings i got her and wants to wear nothing else. She can count to twelve reliably and writes As all the time and identifies Ws and Ms. She is potty-trained. Sometimes she tells me she is a zebra and grins.

And K.-- well, I like him. He makes good waffles. He smells nice. I like to watch Castle with him. He's smart and interesting and, unless I ask him to turn off his bedside lamp or pick up his socks, very, very nice to me.

We took a few pics but I am at the store and don't have them.

Ramble officially over.

stuff i write when the store is empty

The Local Yokels

Character Sketches of The Latest Locavores

“I think,” the woman, said, “that your store is fabulous.” She picks up a glass bottle of case-sugar A&W root beer. “How do you get all these things locally?”

He looks like I am holding something dubious and smelly under his nose. Really, though, I am not holding anything, and he is fingering a package of gourmet wild mushroom ravioli. “Where were these made? Did you make them?”

I sell freshly brewed fair-trade coffee two ways: by the cup (75 cents) or by your cup (25). I do this because I don’t like spending my money on paper. So it’s fine that this frizzy-haired girl with the bike and the Black lab came in with her own mug for some coffee.

It is less fine when she sits in one of my three booths for two hours during sandwich time.

When she comes to the counter to settle up (54 cents with tax: she got a refill), she says, “I would love to get a farm, raise my own vegetables, get some chickens. Industrial agriculture is so terrible, and you know, people just don’t know. We have to support local stores like yours.”

She gives me exact change.

You know who’s fun to sell groceries to? People who love to eat.

“Try this,” I say, and the plump woman’s eyes roll back in her head as she tastes our house-made curried chicken salad.

“I love this bread,” the elderly woman says. She is holding a loaf of ciabetta. “Can’t pronounce the name, but it sure tastes good.”

“This smoked turkey,” the pest control man says with conviction, “is the best I have ever had.”

A lady buys two of our baker’s Salty Pecan cookies, pays, leaves. Three minutes later she’s back in the store. “I made the mistake of trying these,” she says. She buys eight more to take with her on her road trip north.

An elderly black woman lays three Georgia peaches on my counter. She counts out her change carefully.

Another customer comes to the counter with a sackful of local tomatoes. “I love me some tomatoes,” she says. “I’m allergic to them, but I eat ‘em anyway. That’s why God made Benedryl.”

It’s gotten fashionable to care more about where food comes from than how much it costs or how it tastes. I have my own theories on how to encourage local agriculture, but here is the one thing I know as a person managing a grocery store: food is what nourishes us. It’s what grows our children and feeds our souls and it absolutely matters where it comes from. But many of the local food purists who come in my store are missing the point: food should be eaten, enjoyed, and relished. “Mangia, Mangia!” is the saying after all-- not “Nitpick, nitpick.”

Two dAYS aGO nOW, a bOY and a Ballerina

She took her crazy "Baby Doggie" to class. They were both pink. He and the sunglasses were her idea.

Caspian isn't supposed to have a pacifier in his mouth, but he found it. It was his idea. He also likes touching his sister's candyfloss hair.

She is a little bit of a diva. And she loves her ladybug bag. Her tap shoes are in it. As well as a quarter. That was her idea.

Caspian likes the cap on the screw that holds the toilet down. This photo was not my idea. They weren't listening. We were late for class. Everyone wants a picture of his haircut.

At least you can see the back.

Several Things

My husband threw me a surprise party! After a fancy dinner at our favorite restaurant! I hate parties, but man, this one wasn't so bad, and it was incredibly sweet, no doubt about it.

Plus I got more presents. Hee!

----

Read this this morning.

Not unsympathetic-- what mama would be? But as an econ major, one thing strikes me... if you have two workers, one of whom is going to take several years off from work, miss more days, etc, you are likely going to protect yourself against the anticipated costs by paying her less.

Kids cost. They do. At the store right now, I have two choices: one, work for free and leave in the early afternoon, or 2, get a (measly) salary and work crazy hours, typical entrepeneur ship style.

I pick one because I can afford to (thanks Baby!) and because if I didn't, it would have very serious ramifications for my family.

So I don't get paid. Although I do swipe six bucks every Friday for yoga class.

It's not ideal, what's happening in France, but at least they don't both get paid less and get no maternal support from the country.

Now as to the husband-household thing... men, get off your butts! Help out! Sheeshums.

It's My Birthday!

So my sister gave me this pic behind the spoons, which I LOVE, and plan to hang above the stove. My mum has sent me gazillions of bulbs-- YES!!!- to plant under my redbud tree and where I will. My friend Megan called, which is amazing, because I have yet to remember HER birthday. My mother-in-law sent me a note and a gift certificate.

And my sweetheart made sure I came home to this today:

Bright outside which means the details of the freshly baked pound cake on the counter might be lost. But freshly baked pound cake!

I love my birthday.

And I love these 'uns too. What a lucky girl I am.

My Seester Came to Visit.

Highlights of her visit: walking into the store, making a tailgate platter, getting thrown into an apron and into the kitchen to make sandwiches for burly men with tattoos.

By Saturday she looked like this:

And then I made us all go to the garden this morning and plant a redbud tree as a fall consecration ritual.

(Photo taken after Annaliese and I dragged her back to the garden.)

Luckily she got to have some fun as well.

Cheers, Sister. We loved having you.

C