April 2013

This morning, I didn't have to go to work. First morning in a week. So I was downstairs with my children as they ate breakfast (like every morning) but today we had an extra half-hour. We pulled up my blog and looked at pictures of them as babies.

Remember Baby Annaliese? I barely do. I remember, but wow. I have to reach back through time and it seems like such a very long time ago.

And then there's Caspian: my crusty fat pimply little baby sure has gotten handsome in the last 3+ years.

Since we moved here in 2007, amazing things have happened. We've moved house three times now. We have two children, one of whom starts full-time school in the fall. I have a job now. (The store turned 3 yesterday :) ). K. doesn't have a job now (although he works all the damn time).

I find it immensely comforting to look back. Because sometimes I get a little overwhelmed with all that's to come, but on the other hand, look at everything that's happened. Amazing things. Unbelievable things. And K and I get to hold hands and go to sleep together through all of it.

So, to wind up this trip down nostalgia lane, I need to keep this blog going. Because so much is constantly happening that it's hard to remember it all. I want to look at these pages in 10 years and remember what it felt like in spring of 2013.

We had our cookbook photoshoot.

Dad and Eliza visited and it was really, really nice.

K. and I went to art gallery openings, music, and the Chamber of Commerce banquet.

The store made money.

The a/c of the tenants broke. A lot. There was a bad storm. The van caught on fire.

No one quit.

I cooked more breakfast last Saturday morning than we've ever done before.

The kids ran wild all over this farm. I came home last week to both of them nekkid, covered in jam, with Annaliese's right nipple colored green.

A chicken died.

The banty started laying.

I planted my tomatoes too early.

The runner beans budded out.

I rarely travel anymore. I rarely eat anywhere besides home or the store. I rarely shop. I see the same people often and travel the same route daily. It's a small life, in a small town, but it seems bigger than I ever dreamed life could be.