Surgery
People say you don’t have to worry at all, just trust, but I have never found that secret.
Regan
An open letter to Bill Gates
I wrote about Heinz Gaugel, German artist by way of Holmes County, and his daughter and great-granddaughter showed up to leave a comment. I wrote about Anthony Kleem, painter of our favorite puzzles, and he stopped by the blog to say hello. At that point, I decided I would write only about people I admire.
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Rumpelstiltskin Reloaded
Some time ago I complained heartily about the fault lines running thickly through the story of Rumpelstiltskin. Remember? “If anyone can hand me a better version that actually makes sense of the key elements in the story, be it a paragraph or a page, I will publish it here. Put on your thinking cap; ask
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The mayhem and the macabre
We had a lot of drama this summer. You wouldn’t think it, since the walls are still standing and the sunlight is slanting gently down on the goats’ pen. But we did, in our small way. Once in our yard we found an unfortunate starling—as Dickens would say, dead as a doornail. We trust he
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King of the wild cards
This post is an inside window into what it’s like sending my sensory-driven son Regan to first grade. He is blessed: with an amazing school, a small classroom, and a wonderful teacher who loves him–Miss Yvonne Yoder. Though I wrote the post as if to her, she knows every bit of it already. And more.
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Preschool training
Confession: All I wanted was to raise kids who were polite and well-mannered; intelligent kids who knew how to think. Well. *cough* They know how to think. You may well say it was a trifling goal, a sideline aspiration. (Most of mine are.) I agree with you, but I still wouldn’t have chosen this Regan-path
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Fluff and unbreakable habits
Confession: I have outgrown many things, but never my love of kittens. I found these in my shed last week… …four darling balls of fluff! I can hear my father groaning in the background. Ryan too. Neither of them has been successful in breaking me of this habit of cats. I love cats. They are
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On sanctification and night driving
Confession: Sometimes I hate what I am doing. Yesterday was one of those days for me. By the kids’ bedtime I was frazzled and ready to snap. Here is one of the holy escapes I have found: I head for the road. I call it a holy escape, though the sins that lead to it
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