Keeping it close

There are certain things you don't realize aren't the norm for everyone until you are much older.

For instance, it wasn't until I was in high school going into college, that I realized (as in, it really dawned on me) that not everyone has family close by.

For me it was never a question.  All of my Mama's brother and sisters lived on the same road (the same road I currently live off of, mind you), until Aunt Connie got high and mighty and married a man named Buzzy who lived a whopping 30 minutes away in Buzzard's Corner (yes, that is really what it is called)!

It was a big deal.

And I'm not being facetious there.

I was somewhere around 11 when all that went down.  Connie wasn't the first of Grandma's children to move out of the community, other aunts and uncles had lived in New Bern for short stints as well, but Aunt Connie was the first to settle down away from home.
She always was a trailblazer, to which I attribute it starting when she bought that motorcycle…

Anywho, when my husband, who at the time was merely my older brother's long-haired, hippie friend, first came to visit "home", he was shocked that everyone lived on the same road. We were shocked that he was so shocked.
Even though he comes from a large family with lots of aunts and uncles, they all lived a little more dispersed throughout the Minneapolis area.

Not here.  We like things nice and close. :)

It's still like that today. 

When The Hubs and I moved back to this area four years ago from Wilmington, NC, we first started looking for houses in the surrounding little towns, but then realized, what was the use?

We moved back to be closer to family. (And close was what we got in that situation--living with my parents for 2 years before moving in our own home again…but I'll save that for a later post…)

When we finally did move into our new home, it was (and is) within spitting range (okay, so maybe that's a slight exaggeration) to not only my parents, but two of my uncles homes too.

Just yesterday, Sugar and I took a walk through the woods to Grandma and Pop's. 

Here she is now (with our fat cat in the forefront).

It's not a long walk, maybe half a mile, but not quite.

It's through the same woods I spent countless hours as a child building forts, playing hide and seek (deer and dog if you're from this area) and stealing smokes (um, yeah, about that, Mom…).

I love living here. 

In the middle of the woods in the middle of nowhere. 

But close enough to what matters.

The good old days.

In the last episode of The Office,  Andy says "I wish there was a way to know you're in the good old days, before you've actually left them."

Since hearing that, The Hubs and I will half-jokingly remark this whenever we see fit, usually when Sass is being a typical teenage girl or when the dog poops on the floor, or insert any typical family drama here.

Lately, though, we have both been more aware of how accurate Andy is.

For most accounts, we don't realize we're in the "good old days", until they are long gone.

I realized recently, however, that maybe The Hubs and I are at the "good old days" stage of life.

Both our kids are still at home (barely), we are both in the middle of our careers and our parents are all still healthy.

Relatively speaking, life is pretty darn good!

We are beyond blessed.

These ARE our golden years.

And it's kind of scary.

Not that I'm disappointed in the least. In fact, I am sometimes overwhelmed at how gracious God has been.

It's scary, because I know they won't last forever. 

Not the way they are now, anyway.

One of my first blog posts was about how poorly I was handling the fact that Sass leaves for college next fall (read here).

I'm still not sure how I will handle that, although I sometimes think she is preparing me to let go by driving me absolutely crazy first…:)

But I know this stage won't last forever, just like the baby stage didn't.
And it hurts a little.

My sweet husband tells me once the kids are gone, we'll get to do all the stuff we never could before and have the money to fix the house the way we want it and other lies to try to comfort me.

And I appreciate his attempts, I truly do, but I know what it's like to look back at those baby pictures and yearn to hold that sweet baby face close to yours just once more--so what's it going to be like to have more pictures to yearn for???

I'm being ridiculous, I know.

Life is sweet, but fleeting.

Maybe it's the last glow of the Christmas tree that will come down tomorrow that is making me so nostalgic.
Or maybe it's the post-holiday blues that like to creep in when you've been awake too long.

Whatever it is, the good old days are bittersweet, even when you are in the midst of them.
I don't know the secret on how to savor every last minute of them other than to try.

This little gem has been circulating on Facebook the past few days. It has been shared from renowned children's author and illustrator, Patricia Polacco's FB page.  It sums up perfectly how these good old days Andy speaks of in The Office are gone in a flash, so you better relish them while you can!

The Art of Piddling

So, Christmas is over.
Just.like.that.

And it was as beautiful as ever, minus the stomach bug, fever and chills.

Seriously, it was great.

I always ask my kids what was the favorite part of whatever we've been doing (favorite part of your weekend, favorite part of your birthday, etc.,) and I think my favorite part of this year's Christmas would either be listening as Daddy read the Christmas story from the Bible as he does every Christmas morning, or goofing off Christmas Eve night with my brother, his wife, a few cousins and the rest of my brood. It was good for the soul.

Sugar woke up this morning and her first words, I kid you not, were, "Only 364 more days 'til Christmas!"

You have to love her enthusiasm…

Since The Hubs has to work the next two days, this morning we decided to join the crazies and venture out to Target the day after the biggest holiday of the year.

Probably not the best idea, but if I'm totally honest, I agreed because I knew lunch was involved.

And I had some Christmas $$$ to spend.

Oh, and of course, to spend some quality time with my main squeeze.

This afternoon, however, has been my "favorite part" of today.

I piddled.

I did a little bit of this and a little bit of that, but not a whole lot of anything.

I made room for our new coffee maker. And then moved it somewhere else. And then moved it back.

I took a few decorations down, but decided I wasn't quite ready for that, so I stopped.

Started a box for things I plan on purging.

Cleaned out my purse.

Painted my toenails.

Looked through some old pictures.

I did all this with no agenda, no timeline and with complete ease.
It was wonderful!

It's not often we get to piddle in this house.  There is usually some kind of timeline we're dealing with that inhibits the art of piddling. We have to hurry up and get going to the next event or task in order to accomplish what needs to get done. Its a necessary evil at times, that scheduling.

However, on days when piddling is possible, piddle on baby!

Piddling is underrated and underutilized. It allows us to slow down the pace, enjoy what is ours, while still semi-accomplishing things.

Piddling can also lead to plundering, but that is a whole different post…

I can only hope in these last few days of the year, you find the time to piddle. Time to move at your own pace, get some things done (or not), time to pamper yourself or nap a little. Life will catch back up with you soon enough.

Until then, piddle on!

Merry Converse!

So, this week has been a little crazy town.

I work in my local school system as a school librarian, and not only has it been the week before Christmas vacation, we have also had a full moon.

And vomit.

A bug has been spreading through our school. My week has consisted of avoiding hallways that smell like puke, using hand sanitizer like a feen and praying I don't get sick over Christmas break.

So far I've dodged the bullet, knock on wood.

Despite the barf, I really love working in an elementary school this time of year.  Nothing puts you in the Christmas spirit like Kindergartners jacked up on Santa.  The Christmas art work alone is enough to put a smile in your heart.

Speaking of smiles in your heart, the other day ago, Sugar told me she didn't like big, fancy Christmas trees because they don't look real. She said real Christmas trees have homemade ornaments.  Good thing ours is real:)

Not that it is homemade, but one of my most beloved ornaments is a pair of old shoes that Sugar wore as a baby. I bought these at Kohl's one year after Christmas and paid less than $5 for them.  They were big when I bought them, but Lil' Sugar got 2 good years of wear out of them.

And now, we get a lifetime of Christmas memories out of them:)

Merry Christmas!

Ladies first?

I had the privilege to grow up in a large extended family.  My mama had 8 brothers and sisters and my daddy had 11 siblings.

I was rich in cousins, aunts and uncles to say the least.  Most of my treasured childhood memories revolve around time spent at Grandma's house with my cousins.

Of these memories, I would bet a great deal took place on Sundays.  Sunday dinners (that's the lunch meal in the South--evening meal is supper, FYI) have long been a tradition in my family for as long as I can remember.

Every Sunday after church, most of my extended family still meets at the "homeplace", now my Mama and Daddy's house (they bought and moved into Grandma's house once she passed), for lunch.

The house is small (1000 sq feet?) but the family is large!  Somehow, we manage to feed and entertain roughly 20 people every Sunday on a feast of your favorite country foods: collards, potato salad, butter beans, casseroles, ham, mashed potatoes, chicken, string beans, etc.

And, in old school fashioned, the men still eat first.

Yes, you read that right.

In 2013, the men are still served first at my Mama's house on Sundays.

Now that's some deep rooted tradition.

There is a small part of me that balks at such practices--it's outdated and unnecessary now, but I also treasure it, because it was started by my Grandma Doris, who always made sure her "boys" were well fed, not necessarily on Sundays, but before working the fields, while the women would stay and work at home.

The matriarchs of my family, my Mama and Aunt Kay, continue with this practice and who am I to stop them???

They do most of the cooking:)

The men could do a dish or two every now and then though....I'm sure there would be no complaints there...

Until then, I wait my turn, look through the sales papers and catch up on the latest family happenings. Hurry up, fellows, and don't eat all the collards!

Sweet tea and....Jesus?

This weekend I had the awesome opportunity to get away with a few girlfriends and take a road trip to Stone Mountain, Georgia for The Country Living Home Fair.

It was ah-mazing!  And by amazing, I mean if you like all things rustic, country in that artisan kind of way.

I have a hard time with the term "country" when describing decor.  I have all too fond childhood memories of blue gingham curtains, hunter green and mauve wall-paper border and Holly Hobby wooden cut outs (no offense, mama).

The Country Living Home Fair, however, did an excellent job of choosing vendors that represent the passion and heart of the magazine they publish. Such as The Go Girl Shoppe.

http://www.gogirlshoppe.com

They hail right here from good ol' NC...Raleigh/Durham to be exact!  I bought the majority of my purchases from this vendor.  Here is my favorite purchase of their's this weekend:

I can't wait to find the perfect place to hang it!

This sign is perfect for me, because there aren't too many mornings that I don't run through the Bojangles drive thru for a large sweet tea. My drives to work are also my "quiet" time (Read: no kids in the car) that I meditate and pray for the day:)

I wish I had taken more pictures but that was frowned upon by many of the vendors...and let's be honest...homegirl still doesn't have a smart phone and lugging my DSLR around that place wasn't going to happen!

I hope to make this trip a tradition--it was a wonderful excuse to get out of town, recharge my batteries and discover some great finds!

The "rest" of us...

Technically, I should be sleeping right now.

Sunday afternoons have unofficially become "nap time" in our house.  And, it only seems fitting after the series at church we've been having on rest.

You know, rest?  That thing you did before you had kids. Or, when you were college. Basically, it's that thing you were able to do before you became that dreaded word called "adult".

It seems, and I'm very guilty of this, that we are a culture that is entirely "too busy".  And who isn't?  After working all day, and then taking the kids to their various after school activities and then going to church small group night, I finally get home around 9 o'clock, only to have to wash a tennis uniform for  Sass's match tomorrow and make Sugar's lunch.  By the time I fall in bed and set the alarm for 5am, who has time for rest???

We are all busy.  Busy with work. Busy with our family. Busy with life.  And busy is not an entirely bad thing.  It means we are living and loving and not just existing.

But, busy can also be a cop out.

Don't get offended, I already said I'm the guilty one here. There are times I say I'm too busy for something, only to go home, put on my fat pants and troll Pinterest for the rest of the evening....(no visuals, please).

Busy has somehow gotten glorified in our culture.  We believe the assumption that if you're busy, you're doing it right.
Don't believe me?  How many people have you ever heard say "Man, I've had so much free time lately"?

Being busy gives us an excuse.
An excuse to why we haven't reached our goals.
An excuse to why we haven't made that call we've been dreading to make.
An excuse to why we aren't reaching out to others.

I know what it's like to feel overwhelmed, that there aren't enough hours in the day to accomplish what needs to be accomplished.  I get that.  I feel that way often.

But, I also know, unless we slow down and build rest into our everyday lives, we will burn out.

We need to stop glorifying busy and actively pursue rest. 

Our pastor has described rest as a preparation, not a recovery.

So often, we use the weekends as a way to recover--from work, from a hangover, from the stress that we endured all week.
Instead, we need to change the paradigm and think of it as a preparation.
A way to prepare for the next week.  To get our minds and bodies ready for the work that lies ahead.

My hope for you, dear readers, (all 5 of you...)is that you, too, will rest.  

Take that nap without feeling guilty.

Read a book.

Lay in the hammock (not today, it's raining here in eastern NC!)

Be lazy.

And if you get any flack for it, tell them the preacher said it's good for you:)