This morning as I careened through the shower I had an incongruous thought. Why do I never see a homesteader dressed in white? And why I do never see a person who wears white, homesteading? Can these two be mixed somehow? Why has nobody mixed them before.
As I shampooed my hair once again I had a brief panicked moment as I realized that MrB was probably strapping the kids in the car and here I was still shampooing and conditioning my hair, but then my mind turned away from the stress and I wondered if I could be *that* person. I drifted for a moment as I prepared my luxurious lather of special olive oil soap that I save just for myself, a soft wallow of yarns tap danced through my head. Off white, sage, the most gentle powder blue. Not one little bit of white. Not one little bit. How sad, I do so love white, and I am a homesteader, (or approaching one) but I have not yet mixed the two.
(That cake was just so good, "look Mom, you don't even have to wash my plate, I licked it clean" sez the sugaraholic)
But now I am shampooed, conditioned and scrubbed. Now the moment of madness comes. The count down. How to get from the shower to the car in 2 minutes. I don't really wear makeup except for the most cursory of eye shadow swipes. (anything more then that makes me feel the same way that a high waisted skirt feels) I pull on my new (used) jeans taking only a second to feel successful that I was still fitting in a size 8. I jerked on a nightgown
(yes, I wear nightgowns under my clothes to keep my short dresses from creating a shelf on my *behind*) (laugh if you like, it works) I pulled on a dress.
(yes, I wear dresses over jeans because I don't like looking manly)
(not that you look manly if you are a jeans and T sort of girl)
(all these little side notes are exhausting me)
I could make this story two harrowing hours long (because I overslept) but I will spare you.
(More precious brotherly love)
When we did finally get to church my husband whispered to me "I don't feel very reverent and churchy"
Yea, me neither!
But it was a glorious day anyhow! I don't think God really cares that much whether we "feel" right. We were there and we were hungry, so he fed us. Yes, thank you!!
Meanwhile the 9 year old brother created this little leather shirt for Olive. While we hope that Olive will never actually fit into this, beings its so extremely small, this little missive of hope and delight in a new life will go into Olives baby box someday.
(As far as the pickles, they really have nothing to do with anything, I just really like pickles)