MommyCoddle

Little things, two of them incredibly cute

Oh, people. Remember my list of "Things That Are Stressing Me Out"? Well, last night at dinner the girls said to me, "Guess we can cross off 'check if sheep are pregnant', and 'find out what I need for lambs' birth', and 'set up lambing pens' "!

Totally unexpectedly, and probably for the best, I was greeted at my bedside very early yesterday morning by my breathless husband...."You've got lambs. Two of them!" He was on his way to work and just as he was pulling out, remembered something he forgot, and as he stepped out of the car to get it, he knew that the sounds he was hearing from the sheep shed were most definitely NOT Penny or May.

We have babies, people! 

I pulled on my boots and went out to the barn in the dark of yesterday morning to discover two sweet and still-wet baby lambs being every so carefully cared for by Penny. 

Those first few hours were nerve-wracking, I tell you. Watching them struggle to nurse and latch on. Me, lying under a very patient Penny and making sure her milk was starting, trying to direct teats into tiny mouths...(yes, I may have over-managed this a bit.), but little by little, under my nervous eyes, all is well. Though one is smaller, they both seem to be nursing. Dan and I took turns checking on them throughout the night and we made it with no problems. 

I couldn't have asked for a better mother. Penny is patient and calm and just the right amount of protective--that stamp of her foot at the cats wandering into her pen, or when too many people are visiting her, lets us know she needs her space. 

And the babies, keeping with the tradition of naming them with the same letter as their mother, are being called Pete and Paige. A boy and a girl. 

Next comes May. Maybe Penny's little ones will trigger something in her. She is definitely keeping a watchful eye on everything. 

Spring is most definitely just around the corner.

In other news....

I was most-honored to be asked to write something up for new-to-me site 3ThingsForMom. Joined by other lovely contributors like Heather of Rookie Moms and Pilar Guzman of MS Living (hello!?!) I shared my 3 things this week--a truth, a tip, and a find. I think some of you may recognize my truth. It was a lesson that needed some serious re-visiting in my life these days. Be sure to check out Lauren's lovely site. It is a well-crafted collection of mama-wisdom. 

My favorite way to procrastinate is to pour my energy into all the wrong things. Case and point, I'm about to do a major move and redesign of this blog. I'll be moving to a new host which requires pushing the figuartive "big red button" and moving my eight years of writing over to the new space. So if things look wonky or strange for a few days, bear with me. I hope to have things ironed out soon. 

We have a moving date! The Woodlawn house will be HOME beginning the weekend of March 9. Ack, just over a week away. Perhaps it's time to pick out a faucet for the kitchen sink? We're living in the land of chaos, but every time I step foot in that sweet old house, my heart thumps in my chest with anticipation and joy of calling it home. I can't wait to share more of the process and projects with all of you! 

Happy weekend. Happy March 1st. More soon....

 

How to: de-seed a pomegranate

I'm pushing the pomegranates these days which means I'm also de-seeding my fair share of this beautiful little fruit of health. Antioxidants! Vitamin C! We are on day number "it's been so long I've lost track" of Birdy's fever/flu/cranky/mama's losing her mind sickness. I actually saw a glimmer of health from her today, so I'm cautiously hopeful. But everything you hear and read these days says this winter is a doozy for sickness. So we're amping up the goodness in the food department. 

I've always been kind of intimidated by pomegranates. All that pith inside. Those pockets of seeds that I couldn't figure out how to get to. But I've finally come up with a good system for de-seeding them and removing all those packages of crunchy goodness hiding inside. 

So here you go! 

First, cut the pomegranate from stem to stem, top to bottom.

Take one of the halves and turn it over in your hands so the open side is facing down. Gently apply pressure with your thumbs to the outside of the pomegranate. The purpose of this is to loosen and crack some of the pith and membranes inside. Don't go too crazy, just losen. You'll do this a few more times as you go along and feel pockets of seeds that are still stuck.

With the pomegranate half face-down in your hand, hold it over a bowl. Now, with a wooden spoon smack of the back of the fruit. (Can you say, therapy?) You'll begin to feel the seeds fall out between your fingers into the bowl. Woohoo! You may get a few bits of white membrane, but they're easy to pick out.  

If you turn the fruit over and see pockets where the seeds are still stuck, you can gently press and crack on these spots again with your thumbs. And then turn it over to smack them with the wooden spoon again.

 

(See that slice in the fruit? That's what happens when you multi-task while de-seeding. You {almost} cut it the wrong way.)

You won't get every single seed with this method, but you will get practically all of them. (The picture below is how mine looks after a good whopping with the wooden spoon. Almost all the seeds have come out!)

You can either pick at the remaining seeds that are hiding, or if you're really nice, you can toss it to your chickens and boost their immune systems, too. I chose the latter. 

Side note: keep that wooden spoon handy and smack away little hands that dip in the bowl too many times. Kidding. Sort of. 

So, how do you eat your pomegranate seeds? We're pretty much a "straight from the bowl" family, but I also like them on salads and just discovered adding them to my yogurt. Yum! 

Happy health and pomgranates, my friends! 

 

 

 

The one time I'll talk about politics

Emma is really into the election this year. Cheers at the dinner table when she realizes it's a debate night, into it. Asks if I've thought about putting signs in the yard and bumper stickers on the car, into it. Meets someone new and whispers to me "Who do they vote for?", into it. 

Personally, I'm at the point where I almost can't look anymore. I watch the debates, until I feel like I can't listen anymore. I simultaneously scroll twitter until I find myself wanting to scream in disgust and have to stop. I take a deep breath before I answer the political robo-call on my home phone.

But now, with a kid in the mix who's paying close attention and feels pretty strongly about who she wants to win, I feel more sensitive than ever to the nastiness that scrolls through the pages of my facebook and twitter streams, and spews through the television. 

Emma's passionate. And she's passionate in a way only a ten year old can be about who she wants to win. But one thing I haven't been letting her do is make remarks about the other candidate that are disrespectful or rude. Maybe she disagrees with his philosophies or ideas or his smirk or his tie (c'mon she's ten), but still we require level of decency. "You may not like him, but you still need to be respectful." is my mantra. I don't temper her passion, but I do my best to keep it moving in a positive direction.

I don't say this in some holier than thou way, but only because geesh, I've been really disappointed in the childish, disrespectful and downright embarrassing things I've seen flying around social media. Maybe I need to swear it off (social media). Or maybe we need to find a way to share our opinions and show our support without spewing disrepect to anyone who might be listening. Keep it clean. Keep it civil. 

I read this quote that a friend of mine posted on her facebook wall. It's an oldie thanks to John Wesley circa 1774. And I know. It's naive. And idealistic. But sometimes, that's how I roll. And it's one that's worth sharing. 

"I met those of our society who had votes in the ensuing election and advised them to 1. Vote without fee or reward, for the person they judged most worthy. 2. To speak no evil of the person they voted against. And, 3. To take care their spirits were not sharpened against those that voted on the other side."

Honestly, I'd love to hear from all of you. How do you approach this topic? Do your kids have strong feelings about the election and its outcome? How do you direct their "passion"? 

*edited to add: reading your comments and thinking about this more tonight....thought I would take the liberty of paraphrasing the quote into words that are a good reminder to us all in light of tomorrow....*

I declare

I've declared this week to be the week of good things. Things that are uplifting and happy. Behind the scenes, we're hanging in there. The outpouring of encouragement from all of you has been amazing. Even yesterday, when I posted this little shot on Instagram of all of us, while hanging out in the ER waiting for our next dose of the vaccine, it was flooded with good thoughts and wishes, and "I wish I could come out there and buy you all a milkshake!" But the good news in all this is one more round to go! And to quote Elizabeth, "Then I can finally get back to a normal life!"

In the meantime, a few good things around the webby-web-web:

Probably the only time in my life that my name will appear in the same article with Brooke Shields, Gwyneth Paltrow, Tom Cruise and Alanis Morrissette....and proof that among mothers, some things know no bounds of language, race, location or income. We all need to ask for help when we need it.

Something about this post hit me in a good spot this week.

This place is always light, fresh, inspiring (and good for my french).

I'm pretty sure warm bread makes everything better, right? This week, probably this one.

I think my girls have earned some of these to stitch on their sleeves.

And tomorrow, another good thing to share with you that gets me all itchy to have the girls back home...

xo, friends. and thank you.

molly

 

 

Everybody needs a witness

Several months ago, I mailed out a stack of kindness cards to brave volunteers. On each card was a random act of "guerilla goodness". I asked anyone who was willing to share their experience of following through on the ideas on the card, here on MommyCoddle. 

This email came to me a few weeks ago from my dear friend Sarah of urban.prairie.forest. 

Read and be inspired.

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Thank you Molly for sending these out! It has reminded me of this quote though meant in marriage, has inspired me in community...

"We need a witness to our lives. There's a billion people on the planet... I mean, what does any one life really mean? But in a marriage (or dare I say community), you're promising to care about everything. The good things, the bad things, the terrible things, the mundane things... all of it, all of the time, every day. You're saying 'Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it. Your life will not go un-witnessed because I will be your witness'."

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This is what my boom boom! card said, “You know that person you see everywhere? The one you smile at and say hi to everyday on your way to work, on your run or walk, at the grocery store? Next time, introduce yourself and find out their name.” then, to revolutionize it, “each time you see them, say hi using their name.”

We live in a small mountain town outside of a small beach town in northern california. There are a couple of men I see almost every time we drive somewhere. After reading my Boom Boom card I imagined stopping and saying hello to the tall guy who rides his bicycle rain or shine sitting unusually upright. He who does his laundry at the “awesome” laundromat in town verses the “ordinary” one. Or I pictured greeting the man who looks uncannily like Albert Einstein and seems to walk every where he goes. I wondered if maybe we’d bump into him at the library again and I’d have the opportunity to say, ”hello! what is your name?” I hoped for that since it might be freaky if we pulled over on the side of the road so I can step out & ask his name just so the next time we drive by I can roll down the window and call out, “Hi Albert!” (only using his real name, of course).

I found myself in the local natural foods store which we frequent. I see the same people working every time. Usually smile and have small talk, that’s how you roll in a small town. I realized, after reading this Boom Boom card, I didn’t know anyone’s name which brings me to Boom Boom card Subject number 1. Let me describe her for you since I wasn’t A.) brave enough to ask her permission to take a photo and B.) wasn’t stealth enough to hide at the end of an aisle & secretly take one. Ali has brown hair, stick straight and down to her waist (though recently she bleached it platinum blonde). She is probably mid-twenties, likes to sit outside the back of the store on her break for a cigarette, smiles after you smile first. She has her right brow pierced and beautiful doe like eyes. She was checking out my groceries when I introduced myself and asked her name. I see her almost every visit to the grocery store. Now, I say hello and call her by name. Interesting, she smiles before I do.

 

Subject number 2.

Thursday night, after a full day in town, we were making our last stop for late night burritos after hip hop class. There before me is the “Highway 9 Hitchhiker.” We’ve never picked him up before, but our friend Dan used to when he would borrow our car. We could tell because there would be the left over smell of old cigarette smoke seeped into the seats and everytime we’d pass him on the road he would smile, turn and prepare to walk to our pulled over car only to discover our car wasn’t slowing down to give him a ride, I could see it in the rear view mirror. It wasn’t for a number of weeks after Dan moved away that Eddie would just give us the usual thumbs up and wave as we passed by. The same signal he gives everyone that keeps on going. So here he is in front of me at the taqueria so I ask him his name. I tell him that he is often seen traveling between our small towns in the valley we live. I ask him how long he has lived in this area and he tells me over twenty years. He is full of smiles, his eyes light up, he laughs because he thinks my husband and I wear matching glasses. His name is Eddie Nelson and I know that now for when our windows are down on our way through town we can call out, “hello Eddie” as we pass him! (no, I am still not going to pick up hitchhikers when alone with my children, even if I know his name...)

Subject number 3.

Back in the natural food store at the check out line. A man who looks younger than I believe he is stands working with an eternal twinkle in his eye. We usually have more than a little small talk. He will tell me about his other job or ask what my girls and I were up to...not just how is your day, but more direct questions. He is very friendly, permeates a sort of peace, calm and light. It’s time to grab the bag and walk out so I quickly introduce myself & ask him his name. Off we go... A few days later I pop in to grab some ice cream for my girls. It’s become a Friday tradition with a few friends. One of the other momma’s chooses a different check out line and I joke that it’s a race. In my slightly competitive nature my energy is quick and I’m glancing over at my friend. I thanked ________* for checking us out and took the ice cream to leave. He said, “have a great day Sarah!” I stopped turned around and smiled. It felt so nice to be seen, to be remembered, to be known. That feeling is something I want to return. Though his name had slipped my mind at the time, thankfully he gave his business card to my husband so I can pull a Nancy Drew and return the kindness he showed me.

. . . . . . . . . .

Since arbitrarily becoming subject number three myself, I have been even more determined to return the favor of seeing others and using their name. David* who was intended to be subject number three consistently uses my name. I actually thanked him and told him about this little project. He smiled and with such gratitude thanked me back for sharing that with him. I have seen Eddie and Ali each week since (except when we were out of town) and have had ample opportunity to use their names and say hello. Just last week Eddie posed for a photo outside the taqueria where we met. I've become sweet friends with some of the families at dance and look forward to the two hours of waiting because now it's not just waiting, it's catching up. We have yet to meet upright sitting bicycle man or Albert Einstien, but are prepared for a greeting for when that time arrives.

Say hello, ask people their names, see & be seen. You might be surprised but most importantly, everybody needs a witness.

Happy Birthday to me

A post from Mary:

It's my birthday today. And like my father, I have never really wanted a big she-bang every year. This year was one of those more significant milestones, and my husband was so kind to ask me if I wanted to do it up in big party fashion. I wasn't interested. I like the created by the kids type celebrations. The breakfasts in bed, where you hardly get a bite before everyone is all over your tray.

But there was one routine event on each birthday, that I grew accustomed to and now sorely miss. It was that call from my grandmother. It's no secret how special she was to me, my sister, and many others. Never forgetting your day, her sing songy rendition of Happy Birthday, a call packed with love and praises for who I was and how special I was to her. It has been something I have greatly missed the past few birthdays.

Last year, for my birthday, my sister gave me a cutting from my grandmother's beautiful Gardenia. The huge potted plant-tree, was put out on the patio all summer and then brought inside for the cold months. It was a regular fixture at her house. Even in the dispersal of her estate, it was claimed by an uncle and lives in his home now. I was thrilled to receive a cutting from it. I have it in my bedroom window. It has grown some, but I was worried it wasn't thriving. A few weeks ago, i was happy to see some new buds on it.

And today, on the morning of my birthday, I parted the curtains to let some of the sun in and saw one single fresh bloom, newly opened.

A birthday message from above. Just for me.

hello, girls

There's an old VHS video clip I have of my grandmother, walking out to her sheep in the pasture, "Hello, girls." she calls to them in that voice I miss hearing. Immediately, they respond--a mix of warbled baa's from lambs who have their lips pressed to the earth ripping out clumps of grass and others strong and clear who already noticed her coming. Deep throaty baa's of mama ewes who know her voice so well.

My first lamb, when I was eight years old, came from my Grandmother's flock of Hampshires, Dorsets and Southdowns. I remember well, picking out Buttons that day. I picked him not because he was going to win blue ribbons in my first county fair, but because he came up to me and started nibbling and tugging at the hem of my sweater. He had been one of her bottle-fed projects. Now he would ride home with me purely for the fact that we'd become immediate friends. Standing in that barn while sheep and lambs swirled around us and a border collie crouched anxiously outside the gate.

For the next ten years I would show lambs in 4-H and state fairs. We'd win some years. Other years we'd learn lessons the hard way--like never tie your lambs to Japanese Ewe bushes while they wait in line to be sheared. All will be lost.

When I would graduate and go off to college, my mother would still keep a few lambs on the farm. She loved them as much as we did. She was the sheep lady whenever she'd speak at churches, garden clubs, and women's groups.

But eventually, the farm would be sold. I'd get married. And have children of my own.

But somewhere in the back of my mind, maybe the back of my heart, I'd dream and hope for the day, when things would fall in to place again. When the time would come again, when my children would get their first lambs.

Once we moved to Thomas Run, I'd try to figure out ways to make it work. Ways to afford the fencing we didn't have anywhere. The buildings we'd need, that didn't seem to exist.

Then a pony would come in to the picture and horse fence would go up. Fence that wouldn't work for lambs. And I thought maybe we'll end up being horse people. Maybe lambs won't be their thing. The pony was definitely meant to be.

My husband, who likes to remind me of how I should just trust him on this, has always said that I need to just sit back and wait. That the right things, at the right time, will fall into our laps. The doors will open when we're ready. When the time is right. We needent force anything.

So I sat back. And waited. Sometimes I let it go. Other times a sight or sound or memory would make me want to work and work to make lambs happen again.

But then, in a matter of weeks, the door would open. Out of nowhere. I'd look at a building on our farm in a completely different way and suddenly see potential. I'd get drawn into a conversation at a 4-H meeting that would get me thinking. I'd make one mention of it out loud, that I almost didn't say, because it just seemed too impossible to admit. 

Then, there'd be an email. 

And here we are a few months later. 

I waited. Not always patiently, I admit. But now it's here. It's happening. And it couldn't have arrived in any better of a package. At any more perfect of a moment. 

I am in love. We all are.

Hello, girls. Hello.

an end and a beginning

I was planning to sit down at my computer this morning and write a post about all our goings on...

But instead I find myself sitting down at this screen with tear stained cheeks.

Emma lost her cat Henry this morning. We found him on the road in front of our house just a few hours ago. He was the cat that came with us from Wisconsin, to live in the apartment on my grandparent's farm when we moved to Maryland, and finally here to Thomas Run. He was the first of what has grown into many pets and animals and cats for our family. But he was always there. Showing up at every morning round of chores. We are so heart-broken. 

But with every end their is a new beginning.

There is a story that I have been waiting to tell all of you. Anxiously holding the news close to my heart for the last two months as details have been worked out. But I also knew that it wasn't my story to tell first. 

I hope you'll take a moment to read Sarah's words, and learn of the new and the good for our family. And what brings tears of gratitude to my eyes this morning as well. 

Sorrow and wonder, all in the same breath.

(We are heading to the ocean...Dan is caring for the animals, and diving into some variety of house projects while we are away. More from me next week.)

xo, my friends.

Molly

Instagram in print

There are a lot of things on my list of "Things I wish I was more diligent about". One of those is keeping track of our days in a more everyday way. There's the five year journal I've started and stopped. The 365 projects I've never signed on for. The Project Life series I've never been brave enough to try.

Then there's the notion of my grandmother's scrapbooks kept for her family of 15, full of report cards, doctor's bills, greeting cards, family letters--years and years worth of big, overstuffed leather-bound scrapbooks. 

The other thing on my more diligent list is printing pictures. I take a ton of pictures. And now with this shiny little iPhone in my hand, I take even more. But I never, ever print. When Emma was a baby and there was no such thing as digital cameras, I took and printed pictures. Slipped them into albums, captioned each, wrote a few lines, memories. And now the album is falling apart with use and love. 

Then, there's Instagram. While I don't do anything so organized as post every day or try to capture anything in particular, it has naturally evolved into this beautiful collection of special moments in my family's day. A trip out, the way they're sitting together at the kitchen table, a typical day running errands, a special moment at the stream. It's unrehearsed. Unposed. Natural. And, honestly, above all, convenient.

So when I recently discovered that Blurb has a bookmaking process that sucks all the photos in your *Instagram stream, right onto the pages of a book I was intriguied. And late one night when there were a million things to do but this thing, I decided to see what it was like. 

It was simple. I put them in my book in chronological order. Deleted and moved around a few that I didn't want in there, and basically held by breath and hit publish. 

But here's the thing. Just like my personal discovery that my moleskine journal needed to stop being what I thought it should be, and could just be what I needed it to be, I applied that same thinking to this book. I've thought about doing photobooks before but have gotten stuck on the idea of design, captions, and making it perfect. 

But while I wanted to see these photos in print, in something my kids could hold in their hands and flip through, I also wanted my personal imprint to be on the pages. So I decided to print every page with nothing else but a photo. 

Now with the (beautifully published) book in hand, I'm adding my imprint to the book in the form of captions and dates in my own **handwriting. 

And honestly, it's exactly what I wanted. It's turned into the perfect balance of my photographs plus my own hand. Something that I hope my kids will love to flip through and read and enjoy for years to come.

And I hope there will be more.

Once again, I let go of what everyone else was doing, what I thought I should be doing and gave myself the freedom to do what I wanted and needed to do. I needed it to be simple. I wanted it to be personal. And I found a way to capture both. 

I'm so happy with the way it's turning out. 

*I'm mollybalint on Instagram. Come find me!

**The pen I'm using is this one, which also happens to be my favorite pen, which also happens to be the pen I use in my moleskine, which also happens to be perfect for this as well.

Things to love and a bonus

1. A pre-bed pile up in the backyard.

2. Embroidered cyanotypes

3. This kitchen scene

Source: thatkindofwoman.tumblr.com via Molly on Pinterest

 

4. This lovely little path.

5. Forgetting. Then remembering, this CD.

6. This playhouse.

Source: blogs.babycenter.com via Molly on Pinterest

 

7. This moment that feels so true to my crazy little family, including the begging. And yes, the duck came, too. And seriously, why do they always talk me into getting the big, unweildy truck cart? Because they NEVER ride in it. Obviously.

8. This gave me a chuckle.

9. This is huge.

10. And this, totally inspired me. (via DesignMom

BONUS: Know what I don't love? Stink bugs. If you have no idea what these are, thank your lucky stars. But, seriously, if I get dive-bombed one more time while reading in my bed, or sitting here working at my desk, I may just cry. I'm sorry, but I can't find any reason to be grateful for stink bugs.

Guerilla goodness: pay the toll

A few weeks ago, I shared a post with all of you about my desire to share a stack of cards with random acts of kindness printed on each of them. I asked for some of you to volunteer to receive a card from me, and follow through with the assigned guerilla goodness. The response for volunteers was overwhelming and the cards were quickly spoken for. In return, I asked for you to share your stories of kindness. This is what happens when a little good is spread around.

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I was intrigued by MommyCoddle’s call for folks to join her in her Guerrilla Goodness project, so I promptly responded with a quick email to jump on board. The premise: those participating will receive a card in the mail with a prompt to initiate some kind of random act of kindness and report back on the results. What I haven’t done promptly is distill the results into type form. Ruminating is what I’ve been doing instead.

Ruminating and healing.

++++++++++++++++++

I answered the call of civic duty in the most interest-appropriate way I could think of, by becoming a trustee on our local library board. That library was instrumental to settling into this new town five years ago. It’s a critical part of my parenting; working through a stack of fresh library books with the Boy and Girl on my lap is about the only time I feel like I’m hitting it out of the park as a Momma. Indeed, getting a library card has become a right of passage in this small family. Serving on the board that advises and to a very limited extent, governs it, seemed like a natural extension of that love and appreciation. And it was an exciting time to do so, I realized, as plans to move and expand the library into a sparkly-new space were in the infant stages. That I could be an instrumental part of this process was an exhilarating prospect.

But the wheels fell off. Plans were unveiled amidst secrecy and unknowns and big dollar signs, with the trustees of the library board among those completely in the dark. I chalk it up to the noxious cloud of POLARIZATION that’s been hovering over the entire state of Wisconsin for the last year and a half, pitting otherwise-cordial neighbors against each other. (my phone is ringing at this very moment with a call originating in Washington D.C. to instruct me how to vote in our upcoming Recall election) Our air is filthy with this hostility. It’s no real surprise, then, that this mentality of all-or-nothing and black-or-white dug its claws into this project to redevelop our downtown. Those who claimed undying love for the library were adamantly against the project, despite its goal of a bigger, new library facility. Those who were promoting the plan, come hell or high water, were using the library as the linchpin to sell it. Meetings were held, voices were raised, blood pressures ran amok. Resignations were tendered; those still in position were undeniably exhausted.

I received my Guerrilla Goodness card in the mail from MommyCoddle amidst all of this. Were you present in the room when I tore open the envelope, you would have seen my face fall as I read the instructions to “pay the toll of the car behind you” or “pay a stranger’s parking meter.” We are blessedly short of tollways in Wisconsin. And parking’s pretty darn cheap too – the vast majority of it is free. This was the card I absolutely did not want to get. (they were dispersed randomly, so I have only Chance to thank) I grumbled for a few days until the notion of modifying it came to mind.

I walked into the library soon after and struck up a conversation with the librarian. “I have this project I’m participating in…” and wondered aloud if it might be feasible to pay someone’s library fines. Why yes, she said, so-and-so just came in earlier today and was heartbroken that the outstanding fines on his card prevented him from checking anything out. (those overdue dvds add up quickly – caution!) Perfect, I said, and wrote out a check on the spot. I wanted it to be anonymous; (cough…as anonymous as performing a good deed and then BLOGGING about it will allow) I didn’t want to gain any recognition for this, but if I look deep within, I see that this act wasn’t nearly as unselfish as I thought.

I did this purely for me. I had lost the wonder and the warmth of the library and needed it back. I needed to remember what I was fighting for, in this ideological nonsense battle that was dragging me down. I needed to shift my perspective and to find a way to get a breath of fresh air amidst all of the pollution. It’s about books, folks. About new ideas, different ways of seeing the world, the opening up of one’s self that inherently comes with turning the pages of a book. It’s about community – this is the physical space in our village where the heartbeat lives, the how-do-you-do and what’s-new-with-you and how-are-you-coming-along-since-that-happened conversations that take place here in the library more frequently than any other place in town.

Can a simple act of random kindness begin to purify the toxic atmosphere we’ve created here? I’d guess not, but it can’t hurt. A few deep breaths never hurt anyone.

______________________________________________________

From the lovely Mary Jo of Five Green Acres

From sea to shining sea

We often hear a lot of disappointing facts and stats about today's teens. But then you hear a story or meet someone who completely changes your perspective. 

Last week, my father was host to Rae, the daughter of one of his rowing friends. Rae is a 17 year old girl who has taken on the unbelievable feat of running from Boston Mass to Huntington Beach, California. Barefoot.

Yes. She's 17.

Yes. Coast to coast.

Yes. Barefoot. Not in barefoot runing shoes, but completely barefoot.

She is running for herself and the thrill of the challenge but also and just as importantly, she is running for Soles for Souls. An organization that will turn every dollar Rae earns into a pair of shoes for a person or child in need around the world. There are 300 million children in the world who live without owning a single pair of shoes. And Soles for Souls works to facilitate and distribute donations both big and small into the hands (or onto the feet) of those truly in need. 

My family and I had the chance to hang out with Rae several times while my Dad housed her on this leg of her trip. She is easy-going and humble and goes out each day to tick off her miles, and move her way across the country with determination and strength. It was admirable and hard to fathom. Hard to fathom that when my family sits down to Thanksgiving dinner next November, Rae will just be finishing up her trip. And that almost every day between now and then, Rae will be running and raising money for a cause she believes in. 

I write this post today both to share her story, in hopes that you'll pass it on, share it with your children (it is SO inspiring!) and family, and also to put out a small call for help. I suppose this is kind of strange, but perhaps, if you've been reading my blog long enough, you'll understand--Rae is in need of some hosts during the Ohio (and it looks like a few other midwest) legs of her trip. You can read all about it, and contact me or her family via her website. 

As always, thank you, friends!

guerilla goodness: write a letter

A few weeks ago, I shared a post with all of you about my desire to share a stack of cards with random acts of kindness printed on each of them. I asked for some of you to volunteer to receive a card from me, and follow through with the assigned guerilla goodness. The response for volunteers was overwhelming and the cards were quickly spoken for. In return, I asked for you to share your stories of kindness. This is what happens when a little good is spread around.

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Molly,

My children and I were eager for your envelope to arrive in the mail with our random act of kindness.

We live in a small town with a population of about 250 people year round. I thought for sure we would end up with a task such as "pay someone's toll" but we received the task of writing a letter to someone (and actually mailing it).

I had recently made some postcards and notecards from some of my photographs. So, this random act of kindness was perfect.

My daughter decided to "write" a letter to her a friend who lives in town. She drew hearts, x and o's for hugs and kisses and signed her name.

My son wrote to his cousins. He asked about their new cat and when they are coming to visit. I have a feeling he will even get a letter in return.

I decided to write a letter to a friend's parents.

A few days after we received your envelope and our letter writing assignment, I learned that a friend had passed away.

This friend lived here, in our little town, as an Innkeeper for a few years.

We became friends. Over the course of our friendship, we had dinners togethers at the Inn when all was quiet, we watched movies, had bonfires, attended his wedding and met his family on several occasions. Our friend had his troubles (don't we all is some way).

My husband and I were kind to him and loved him anyway.

He had since moved away and we lost touch.

That happens.

It was with a heavy heart that I wrote a letter to his parents.

I heard of his passing the day of his service and we weren't able to attend. My husband and I decided we wanted to honor him in some way.

During his calling hours, while his family and friends gathered in a town seven hours from here. We walked to the lake as a family.

We talked to our children and told them about our friend:

We talked about how he lived here for a short time and how we would remember him always.

We talked about making good decisions and that sometimes even with all the love and support some people don't.

We talked about how much he loved it here, living in his natural element. He loved to fish on the lake in the summer and winter. It was his passion.

We talked about how much he loved the lake. He loved it so much it made him smile.

We talked about friendship and the importance of kindness. We talked about his family and how incredibly sad they must be.

Once on the frozen lake, just slushy from the beginning of spring, we released a bright orange lantern and said a prayer for our friend.

"May this light rise to the heavens to shine with you for all eternity".

In my letter, I told his parents all of this. I included a few pictures to share how we honored their son, our friend.

Our random act of kindness was to write a letter.

But, it turned into so much more.

It was a reminder of the sacred places we keep in our hearts, a lesson in the value of kindness and a special way to honor a friend and his family.

Amy Germain (and family).

moleskine + washi tape

I'm about to completely finish my first-ever moleskine journal. This is by far not my first-ever moleskine. I've owned several. But between losing motivation or just plain losing them, or never finding a "method" with them that worked for me, I've yet to ever completely fill one up. 

But I'm just a few pages shy of finishing up my first. Every page. Almost every blank space. I started it with no real rhyme or reason as to how I would use it. I didn't know if I'd journal in it. If it would only be for my list of three. If it would be my own personal scrapbook to clip, save and tape things into. 

Turns out it's been all of those things.

Instead of trying to decide WHAT it would be, I shifted my focus to letting it just be a notebook that was more about time than about what filled the pages. It didn't need to be just one thing or another. It could be everything. And anything.

Though it sounds silly to have that realization about a notebook, the whole thing was pretty freeing to me. 

Because I'm a person who really wants to be a journaller. I want to be a scrap saver, a note collector, a list maker, a calendar keeper, an idea brainstormer. But when I tried to force myself to be just one of those things it didn't work. 

Instead, I'm a little bit of all of those things.

And instead, my moleskine now chronicles many months of my life--the to-dos, the recipes, the scraps, the notes, the lists, the brainstorms. All of it. 

But just a month or so ago, I discovered that there was a way I could organize it just a bit. It's helpful for me to be able to jump back in my notebook and find something I'm looking for. Where I wrote down a phone number. A recipe. Where's that cute note Emma sent Mary on her birthday? Where's my grocery list. 

And there are other things, too. With my work at *Babycenter, I use my moleskine each week to write down what posts I plan to write, things I'm thinking of for the future, people I've been in conversation with. But I rely heavily on those notes because it's a ton to remember. 

So I had my little inspirational moment a few months ago when I realized I could use my rolls of washi tape to help me find some of the most important, most used pages in my notebook. And hello, a system was born. 

Not every page in my notebook gets the washi tape treatment--but the most often referenced ones do. Each Sunday when I'm finished my planning page for Babycenter, I get out my blue plaid washi tape and run a piece along and folded over the outside edge of the page. I do the same for my to-do lists, recipes, and grocery lists. Each with their own colored washi tape. Everything else in between doesn't require tape. That would get both colorful and crazy. 

Now, when my journal is closed, I can easily see where each "big ticket" item in my moleskine is. I can get to it easily, and I admit, I kinda like the well-loved look it gives my journal. 

I just updated my stash with some new tape from Lotta Jansdotter. The woman knows how to put together a bundle of tape that speaks to me. For my next moleskine, I may just change it up all together and break out new brighter tapes. Who knows. I'm crazy like that. (Though I do love me some yellows, browns and blues.)

It feels good to have it down. To finally have a system in place that works for me. 

But I'd love to hear what you guys do. Do you keep a journal? What kind of journaller are you? Are you a list maker? Do you keep your lists all together in one place? I'd love to hear from you, friends. 

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Speaking of Babycenter...I'm hosting a giveaway for a great little portable labeller from Epson right now. It will make you passionate about labels. 

on Friday

Molly:

Locally sourced. (And how she does breakfast every morning.)

Mary:

Outside my bedroom window. Wakes me every morning with a grateful heart for the beauty of the season.

Happy Weekend friends!

xo.

Molly