Mogs and mistakes

It seems that posting even twice a week will be over my head at times. I will write when I can. “Just enough to stay sane,” a wise friend told me, and I will be taking her advice. It will help if both you and I forget about my little Mondays and Fridays idea. Pretend that didn’t happen.


Confession: I burned the first batch of caramel good and hard to the bottom of the saucepan, because I was washing supper dishes and singing I Stand Amazed in the Presence, and I forgot to stir even once.

With guests due to arrive within the hour for an apple dipping party, my knight-of-twelve-years-and-counting-who-has-gotten-me-out-of-worse-scrapes-than-this-one offered to make the emergency run for more caramels. {You know the Dr. Laura definition of true love? Swimming through shark-infested waters to bring her a glass of lemonade.}

I turned to drying the dishes, but the kiddos were wild and needy and hyper. Abruptly, I set my tea towel on the counter to rescue one who appeared in danger of sudden death from starvation or sibling attack or something perilous—and when I snatched up the towel again two minutes later, I forgot it was wrapped around my favorite of favorite mugs, the one my best friend gave me for my birthday, hand-crafted by her other best friend.

There was a rather dreadful smash. Continue reading