Of Writing and Socks...or Scarves

Knitting is very conducive to thought. It is nice to knit a while, put down the needles, write a while, then take up the sock again.
~Dorothy Day

Binding off a scarf I finished knitting this evening...
 
 Because of my Word for this year 2010.

How are you daily manifesting the presence of The Creator in your life?  

Product Reviews

I tried Crystal Light's lemonade this week, finally.  (I know - everyone but me has tried this product!)  I usually make my own home made lemonade, but decided to try the "Simply" brand ("Simply Orange" and "Simply Lemonade") and the Minute Maid brand, and then lastly, grudgingly tried Crystal Light.  Surprisingly Crystal Light is the best, next to home made.  And if you put some lemon slices in the pitcher, you get really close to home made goodness - and it is sugar free!

This book is fantastic.  Really.  Get it.  Entitled The Gentle Art of Domesticity, by Jane Brocket, this book is just wonderful.  Inspiring.  Simple, and all about the simple things in life.  Her color aesthetic is outstanding, although I could not decorate with the bright hues that Jane does, she really has an eye.  Oh - and her writing is superb.  Finally, a very well written, entertaining tome about All Things Domestic.  Move over, Martha.  Jane writes it better.  And does it herself.

 The Minky brand of retractable clothes line.  We finally put in a new one awhile back, and this thing is the best.  It stretches out a long way - mine is placed right between two trees in my back yard, anchored to first one, then the other, instead of those ugly clothes line poles.  Two trees with the clothes line between them is far, far more pleasing to my eye.  I leave mine up, but it can easily be taken down, and since it is between the trees, no one would ever know it was there.

 Be sure to wrap this end around the cleat at the bottom.  Otherwise, your line will sink, and you won't know why.

Then, anchor it in a tree, up to 40 or 50-some-odd feet away.

I could add another one, anchored to a branch behind this one, and have two going, but since I don't line dry absolutely everything (just most things, these days) this one does just fine.

This is sweet livin'.  There's that antique blue ticking table cloth of mine.  My beloved and best friend (one in the same) spilled a bit of Chardonnay on it last night.  I could have pierced him through, with my laser "angry eyes" on the spot.  But instead, I lept to my feet, found the spray bottle of hydrogen peroxide and some Shout, and treated the stain.  It came right out.

As I was putting the tablecloth in the washing machine, my beloved and best friend said dryly, "You forgot to yell at it."

(You know..."Want a tough stain out?  Shout it out.")

Such a funny guy.

Have a blessed weekend, friends.  God is good, all the time.

August's End...

Here we are, the last week of August. Can you believe...?

It has been a hot, hot month here in east Tennessee, with 90+ degree temps almost the entire time, with heat indexes in the triple digits.  Not exactly the sort of weather my garden and pots thrive on, but I have managed to keep everything alive, except a couple of stray, smallish pots of red petunias.  (And by the way...red just didn't do it for me this year.  I thought it would, but it didn't.  That's what I get for departing from my signature white and yellow!  Red is good for accent, but not for the main display...)

Hummingbirds are everywhere, now, hovering all around the cottage, sipping from the feeders, the Zinnia Garden, from the crepe myrtles, those bleh red petunias that haven't expired yet - see previous paragraph - and the butterfly bush.  Oh, how I love me some hummers.

Funny thing, life is.  I usually am in a hurry to see August go.  September is my favorite month of the whole year, and August has, in the past, been my least favorite.  But this year...I'm a bit peevish about saying goodbye to sweet August, heat index notwithstanding.  I've grown partial to those languid Southern summer afternoons, I think.

Note to self:  plant massive drifts of Rudbeckia next year.  Go whole hog.  It weathers the heat beautifully, looks outstanding and so "cottage-y", and is a can't-miss.  Five drifts of it this year were not enough.  I think it needs to be my "repeater" - the element of the garden that repeats itself, unifying the whole scheme.

So much to tell you about, gentle reader!  I want you to hear about how easy it is to make artisan bread at home.  I want to tell you all about the best fashion blog - one that unashamedly is pro-modesty.  I for one am so tired of seeing women, old and young, dressed skimpily.  No woman ever, evvvvver gets dressed by "accident".  It is always on purpose.  So.  What are we saying, girls, when our shorts are cut "up to there" and our shirts "down to there" and everything is tight and revealing?

Does pretty equal revealing?  Or is revealing just...well, revealing?  A girl with a great personality doesn't need nudity to get by.

Just sayin'.

If I could sit down with the teenage girl or the woman who is dressed inappropriately, and really speak my mind, I'd say something like this: "Methinks thou hast unresolved sexual issues, darlin'.  How about getting before the Lord and resolving them?  Hmmm?  For the sake of love for the Father, and respect for the body of Christ?"

Or, how about this:  "GROW UP, SWEETHEART!  WE CAN'T ALL BE FOURTEEN FOREVER!"

What else was it I want to tell you about?  Whew - that rant sidetracked me, butt good.  (Am I the only one who loves a great pun?)

Oh - more about living a hand-made sort of life.  I tire easily these days of anything deliberately impressive or deliberately charming.  I hunger for authentically inviting...real warmth of soul and surroundings.

Seems like everything I am trying to say wants to turn into a rant of sorts - I think "that time of August" is upon me.  Estrogen devils running amok in my brain.  Or its the homeschooling.  Yeah.  Might be that.

And it is only week one.  God help me, and give me dark chocolate.

What is your imaginary idea of the perfect girlfriend?  I have about a zillion best friends (actually only four or five) who are my "best", each one for a different reason.

Oh, and shoot me on the spot if I ever utter or type the word "bestie".  Gah.

Nevermind, there I go again.  I need my appointment with female hormone reset to hurry up and get here, before I kill someone for having bad breath.

Anyhoo, like a beautiful collage, when I take what I love best about each best friend, and paste it all together, I have the perfect girlfriend.  Which means, I already have "her"...she just exists in several bodies.

But she would give me dark chocolate right now.  And say exquisitely ponderful things (yes, ponderful with a "p"), and funny things, and she'd dose me with a beautiful Merlot.  She'd inspire me to love myself more, and take all the crap with a grain of salt.

Ew.  That last metaphor, I'm not sure about.  I spit it off the top of my head, which is another metaphor I find disturbing.

Dear reader, I need to go to bed.  Thank you, from my heart's bottom, for stopping by.

Vulgarity-not what it used to be

Today, when we hear the term "vulgar", we think of horrible language - swearing and the like.  At one time, the more common definition of vulgar was this ~

•common: of or associated with the great masses of people;
•common: being or characteristic of or appropriate to everyday language

So.  We see that vulgar also means simply common.  A bit uneducated, rough around the edges and unsophisticated.  (yes, I know that is an incomplete sentence.  I know.  It bugs me too, but since I know the rules, I can break them.)

Sort of like the Greek language in which the Scriptures were written - God made sure His very word was written in common vernacular.  "Vulgar" Greek. 

Only the religious object to the "vulgar" in that sense.  Even today, it is only.  the. religious. 

Religious high brows would never think of raising their voices or truly doing community with common people.  No, they exist to help and benefit the common man.  Self aware magnanimity, which is no real largeness of soul at all.

I ran across a quote today by Dorothy Sayers - somewhat of a heroine of mine.  She was an incredibly astute thinker.  In this particular piece, she was writing about the Latin language, and the way it ceased to "morph" and adapt to changing times, and thus became what some mistakenly consider a "dead language".

But the quote - Sayer's line of thinking - makes me consider other than just the Latin language.  Here is the quote:

"Contamination" and "barbarism" are one set of names for (the fact that language adapts to vernacular and even slang):  another name is "vitality".  Everything  which is alive tends to break out into vulgarity at times.  Only the dead and embalmed can preserve forever their changeless marmoreal dignity."

Know what else this makes me think of?  (My mind is forever at the mercy of its associations.  But that is okay - Robert Frost considered this an indication of keen creative intelligence...)

"The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Look, a glutton and a winebibber, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’ But wisdom is justified by her children."

Very God laid aside His Great Glory...and "broke out into vulgarity" to become a man.  Alive...He is alive!

Last Year of Home School

And so this is it.  A career that began with my daughters, almost 20 years ago, ends this May, upon the graduation of my youngest son.  All my children have only, ever, been home educated.  From kindergarten through graduation, all the reading, writing, and math skills have been learned at home.

This is my very last year as a full time home educator.  We start this week - Isaac and I - with a review of basic Geometry and Algebra II, along with a DVD teaching series by John Bevere for Bible class, and some light essay writing...just to get going.  Then, we'll launch into anatomy and physiology, and we'll get his 1/2 credit of economics in by Christmas.

I am doing one thing slightly different this year:  I am journaling from my perspective as a parent-educator about how wonderful this experience can be.  I'm free-writing, stream of consciousness style, digging deep into my heart of hearts, and putting down in writing what the school year would look like, what the semester would look like, what the week would look like, what the day would look like, if I could design it any way I wanted...no budget, no restraints, no issues.  I'm pretending like I have zero baggage, no lack of resources, and an amazing grace overshadowing this whole endeavor.

Then, after I'm done imagining it...I'm going to live it.  I'm wondering just how big my God can be.

Here's a bit of visual inspiration for my fellow home educators (a stalwart lot, we are!)...we've outgrown this idea somewhat here at my house, but I will be taking this idea and tweaking it for myself soon!

I'm so glad I didn't quit home schooling when it stopped being cute and gratifying.  You know...as your kids get older, they outgrow the "learning centers" and the lovely nature tables get replaced with desktop computers and bulky textbooks, and it all gets a bit grueling and...not cute.  When the kids get a little mouthy and aren't overwhelmed with gratitude at your sacrifice in staying home to drill them in their theorems and Latin declensions.  When science isn't as simple as a nature walk and a field guide.  When you aren't so impressed with yourself as teacher anymore, and the enthusiasm seems to be waning and government or some sort of institutional education looks so inviting. 

When someone becomes prodigal, graduates from your home school full of potential, but doesn't go on to college - and in fact takes all those hours of music lessons and leadership training, and begins to play in bars all over your city.  Even then.  Even then, I am so glad we didn't give up.

I don't know how this year will turn out.  This is a communication from the uncertainty of the front lines, not some safe observation from hindsight.

But, come what may, I am already glad I didn't quit.

This is it.  It all comes down to this year.  You won't waste a prayer on the Atchley family, gentle reader!

Starting Here at Home

...this isn't my home, but it is my dream home...no, I don't dream of big houses, tho' I could dream anything I want to ...I've always loved small. Small is the new big, ya'll...trust me. (Unless you have a vision to truly have a Hospitality House - something akin to a retreat center for family and friends, thus your large spaces are graciously and regularly shared with others! ) Homes that are too big for their true purposes, a.k.a. McMansions, are now passe - post with recent quotes from top architects and interior designers forthcoming! Top designer advice? "Think outside the granite box" when it comes to surfaces. In short, pretentious consumption is not the atmosphere you want to go for, if you are blessed with any sort of home building or home improvement project. Instead, think "hand made living", think kinship and earthy and light and airy and simple. And yes...you can dream of "small".

And above all, big or small, let the spirit of your home be one of shared community, an atmosphere of grace that celebrates the perfectly imperfect!

Accompany me today, O Spirit invisible, in all my goings, but stay with me also when I am in my own home and among my kindred. Forbid that I should fail to show to those nearest to me the sympathy and consideration which Thy grace enables me to show to others with whom I have to do. Forbid that I should refuse to my own household the courtesy and politeness which I think proper to show to strangers.




Let charity today begin at home.
-Baillie

Have a Faith, Friends, and Family-Filled Weekend!

May this be a metaphor for your weekend...(a proverbial bowl of cherries!)

Make plans, make friends, make love, make cookies...your weekend can be this beautiful!  It isn't too late to "make" it happen!  Be sure to share the blessing of kinship, the surprise of grace and glory, the comfort of community.

"Make" it a good weekend, gentle reader.  I pray God's best and brightest for you and yours!