My sweetheart has been building a Christmas album for as long as I’ve known him. In fact, the first gift he ever gave me was his version of “Silent Night” delivered to my dorm room.
We are up to 22 tracks now, and I say “we” because he’s received much help from friends and family over the last two decades. Band mates, in-laws, dear friends, all six kids, and even a hesitant wife have contributed. We’d love for you to give it a listen this week! Merry Christmas.
I was nearly thirty-seven years old before an artificial Christmas tree darkened my doorstep and lit up my living room. We decorated her tonight. She’s doing the job we need her to do this year and for that, we are grateful.
I spent the same amount in pizzas tonight that I used to spend on groceries in three weeks. This is not a brag. Those pizzas were costly and I can’t be making decisions like that every week. It’s just that now, there is enough money to move around between allocated areas. There is not as much stress as there used to be. This is what I wish to remember.
Have you ever associated a single task with a single thought just one time, and then the two are inextricably linked forever?
I remember talking with a friend in elementary school, soon after learning to shave my legs (it was the end of fourth grade, when a boy called attention to my leg hair and my mom conceded). Anyway, so I’m excitedly broadcasting the news to my friend and she goes, my sister says you should shave across your knee, not up and down, so that you don’t cut yourself. I filed that tip away and to this day, I cannot touch a razor to my leg without picturing an elementary school acquaintance’s wiser older sister. Thank you for your service.
The post-pandemic cold virus is no joke. Also! Every time our family falls ill, I harbor bitterness toward my children who bounce back after a day, while I barely feel human after a week.
Nesting for winter! Every few months, I move furniture and switch out art and quiet the loudest spaces in our home to prepare for the next season. Thank you, Myquillyn.
It’s true, what they say about the unusual strength and motivation associated with women attempting to move furniture alone, but add four kids and I’ve got myself a whole home design team. Chris is out of town, so… we did some things last night.
I’ve been in a dark place for a few weeks. I have pressured and encouraged and pleased my family to consider rehoming our animals.
I have always owned animals. I have never rehomed one. I finish what I start. I don’t quit things. I barely even admit when things are hard. To consider what I’ve considered with my pets certainly feels like failure.
But. I reserve the right to change my mind, change course, change things up if my mental health requires it. I don’t move houses every year, or change jobs, or change churches (too much). I haven’t shaved my head or gotten a face tattoo or fled the country. I am okay. Except that I’m not.
Life in Alaska is different. Our house is cozy, but quite smaller than we are used to. The weather is much more intense than we are used to. There are challenges to owning animals here that we are not used to – cleaning and crating and boarding and training and feeding and watering.
We selected the perfect breed of dog for the elements here, but she is designed for work and a pack and land… all of which we offer in a different way than that for which she was bred.
We took home a cat, sort of on a whim and sort of not, without figuring out how he’d fit into our home logistics-wise. Then there was the second cat that made her way in while I was out of town. And now there is a lot of sneezing where there wasn’t before, and tape on houseplants to prevent them from becoming litter boxes, and I just can’t take it.
I cannot rehome my husband, or my kids, or my responsibilities at work, or my health and well-being. The animals, sweet as they are, fall below the line.
We have already placed the lady cat with a local community member who was in the market. The report is that both parties are happily in love. The big black cat, or Fat Daddy, will stick around while we wait for the right family to come along.
Today, Jolene goes to check out a farm about forty miles north of us. If it’s a good fit, we’ll leave her with them today. The family recently lost a female from their pack and is looking for a gal to make them whole again. They have a whole lot of livestock guardian dog knowledge and love to give Jo. They said we can visit and they’ll bring her down when they come to fish in the summer; an open adoption, they said. It made me feel only slightly less ashamed and sad.
The right thing is often the hard thing, but when you’re not even sure if it’s the right thing, it’s even harder.
