I learned a trick from a book I never read, just skimmed: Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus, by John Gray. I would probably have fits at some of the things Mr. Gray teaches. But I remember only one point, and it made sense to me. He said when your husband is in his […]
And Won’t Come Out Read More »
—see previous post here— Without making too many blanket statements, let’s try this one on for size: Every man has a hobby or two that his wife finds at best, excessive—at worst, little short of completely ridiculous. (Hurray for marriage! I truly love this journey.) I call these hobbies Man Caves. I don’t mean in
What To Do When He’s In His Cave Read More »
Confession: I’ve got a lady-in-training around my house, and I’m terrified. Boys are difficult in their own way—bullheaded and rash—but they’re soft-hearted beneath, easy to get to. This girl thing of angel one day, minx the next is harder to get a hold of. And without big sisters, her only day-to-day pattern is her mother.
Sugar and spice, and snark Read More »
My post last week on Halloween sparked a series of private conversations with my friend Janelle Glick. Janelle hails from the city of Waterloo, Ontario. She’s a former school teacher, present curriculum writer, wife of a musician, mother of three, seeker of Jesus. I asked her to write a guest post, sharing her thoughts on
On Halloween, part 2 Read More »
Here is a sewing trick I learned from local pattern-maker Brenda Wenger. If you sew your own dresses (particularly cape dresses) and are not 100% happy with how they are turning out, cut yourself a practice bodice from an old sheet or piece of scrap fabric. (Yes. Unfortunately my patterns truly are cut from old
Confession: I dream prolifically. I go through dreams like some people go through Kleenex. I once suggested to Ryan that if I recorded and published my dreams, maybe I’d be famous. He replied, not unkindly, “Yeah, or locked up.” But I couldn’t help it. Just for fun, I kept notes of things I did in
Confession: I am convinced that trash cans are nothing more or less than places of concealment. The success of every great mother hinges on her surreptitious disposal of certain—er, unnecessary goods. Likewise the success of every great wife! Now I wonder what The Boss would say about that… I like calling him The Boss, though
She calls him “Ampa Eli” and he calls her “little dumplins,” though he does not understand who she is, or where she came from. Enya sings One by one my leaves fall, one by one my tales are told… She says adios, says adios, goodbye.
What we did this weekend Read More »
Confession: This time of year, I cannot go to the store without feeling ashamed for humanity. I don’t get it. I consider Americans (the ones I meet in my small city) to be humane, civil, and compassionate. What possesses us, that this one month of the year we otherwise-sane human beings suddenly find gore and
Confession: I am a fan of oven-processing. Oven-processing is an alternative to canning, in which jars are placed in a hot oven instead of in a water bath. The internet is full of loud voices in opposition to this practice. It is fraught with danger and the USDA has not approved it since 1943. And truly,
To can or not to can Read More »