In 1492 Columbus sailed the ocean blue

I love history. I have always loved history. I was one of those nerdy kids who read my social studies book cover to cover by about the second week of school.

What was and has been, has always fascinated me. I love to visit places where people have been reliving the human drama for a long time. I can feel the heaviness of so many souls. Such places give me goose bumps. I would have been a history major in college if it weren't for all the dates. I love history but not numbers and somehow the two are perpetually connected-- it is the timelines.

A good timeline will go a long way in making order out of a complex idea/world, but I struggle with all the numbers. I had an assignment at one point while pursuing my Masters that asked me to create a comprehensive timeline of the literature of my life. It was like one long mix tape of novels with a verbal annotation between songs. Needless to say it was a difficult but enlightening task as I re-walked my life path focusing only on the books I carried with me on the journey.

I remember a time when my own personal timeline was defined by positive life experiences. The Christmas we went skiing as a family, my first summer at Camp Glisson, the summer I went on a mission trip to New Mexico, the Interim I spent in Honduras, the semester I lived in Amsterdam, the youth BBQ when Kevin and I started dating, our wedding, and so on and so on. These sort of life moments served as the the vertical markers on my horizontal life that when labeled said, "something good and important happened here-- remember this."

In the past few days I have been thinking of my updated timeline and the definitions have seemed to shifted more to the negative, with a few notable exceptions. Now it looks more like: the summer my mother was diagnosed with cancer, the fall of Cavender's birth, the winter I finally had to drop out of my Masters program, the New Year's Day my father had a stroke, the summer I was diagnosed with postpartum depression, and so on and so on.

God is good. Life is good.
It has taken me awhile to see that each negative has brought something good into my life.
Besides it is my timeline-- it reflects what I am living. I am choosing to reflect the light and not the dark. I know there will be more times when I will stop and say, "something good and important happened here-- remember this."

Fired up for behavior modification!

As most of you know Kevin and I have been big supporters of the Babywise parenting philosophy even before we had Cavender. Although we have adapted and adjusted some of the ideas to better fit our personalities, the Babywise concepts have served as the foundation for our parenting.

So when Cavender recently began her tantrums and tirades we turned to our faithful guide (after we recovered from the shock of her behavior!). Onto book 3... or is it 4?

Kevin, now being the reader in the family, has already finished the book and has written out a list of areas we need to improve in our communication with Cavender. I am a little behind but so far completely agree with him in the areas where we need to make our 'next steps'. Just when I seem to think we have it all figured out Cavender always sets me straight by immediately entering into a new development phase.

Couch Time, Reduction of Decision Making Freedoms, and Direct Verbal Commands... here we come!

Let the adventure begin!

HGTV has done me in...

Perhaps, I have watched too much home improvement television.

I am willing to take the first step and admit I have a problem. I could make excuses for myself when we actually used to own homes to improve, but now in the cement-block-world of seminary housing why do I continue to watch?

Kevin and I went to Lowe's yesterday to buy a few gardening supplies. The bright blue sign, the hard cement floor, and the smell of fresh cut wood made my project-planner heart flutter in the oversized container store. I could only image my reaction if we had been in a Home Depot. We went straight to the garden center and were in and out the huge sliding doors in 10 minutes and spent less than 10 dollars. But as we made our way to the check out line, my eyes kept wandering to the ceiling fans and paint samples.... oh what a little paint could do for cement blocks.

My compulsion to make thing prettier, to organize, to decorate has been fueled by the countless hours of home improvement shows I have watched, but to what end?

Then it hit me like the smell of fresh paint in a small bathroom.
Why the discontentment?
Why the longing for improvement which usually ends in disillusionment of an unfinished task?

On TV, the over-the-top makeovers are presented by an outside expert, the participant submits to the plan, and then they are off to the races. In 30 frantic minutes all the work is accomplished by the 'team' most of whom are off camera. The job always seems impossible but miraculously it all comes together in the last seconds with amazing results.

I keep waiting for my expert to make a plan and my off camera team to swoop in and help with all the junk of a real life make-over. A heart make-over. Besides my occasional obsession with curtains or paint I have moved past the home improvement phase to my heart improvement phase. For so long I focused on the external world so I would not have to look the shabbiness of my heart (not even shabby chic).

Duct tape, hot glue, and a little fabric will not make the grade here.
There are no short cuts.
There is no off camera team or editing crew to remove the mess ups.

So here in Wilmore, without a house, a yard, or a paint scheme I am working on the hardest make-over of my adult life.

When I grow up...

I keep thinking of all of the things I want to do when I grow up. I am not sure at what point I will consider myself a grown up but here are a few of my ponderings on the subject....

When I grow up I will...

• wake up effortlessly every morning without the repetitive shrilling of my alarm clock because I arise before the sun with out hitting snooze so I can start my day right.
• want to look for opportunities to do the laundry and dust to keep out little hovel clean.
  
• find the motivation and self-discipline to go work out everyday.
• stop falling down or dropping things more often than my three year old.
• stop dreaming about afternoon nap time, even at my office... I can fit under my desk.
• rather drink a glass of water than a Coke product.
  
• stop secretly wishing I was eating what my toddler is eating off of the kids meal at most dinning out experiences.

Maybe one day...
tomorrow, I think...
but there seems to be a great deal of work to be done in growing up....

Swimming lessons in a land locked state....

There is something ironic in the fact that we waited to for my little one to take swim lessons until we lived in a place with no water... well, there is water but it seems to be limited to concrete pools.

It saddens me that my own flesh and blood does not love the ocean like her Mama. She thinks the waves are TOO BIG, and from the perspective of a three year old I can see her point. But having just gotten back from the white sands of the Gulf, I am reaffirmed in my belief that those rhythmic waves are important to my peace of mind. Unfortunately, since my handsome redheaded husband shares our girl's disdain for the ocean I don't see many family vacations to the coast in my future.

So tonight I will head out to our first swimming lesson with our girl knowing that I am only preparing her for fun days at the pool or maybe a small lake that is reasonable in size. Perhaps when she grows up and digs her own toes into the sand she will love the beach like her Mama. At least she will be tall enough to hold her own in the waves.

A loaf of bread, a container of milk, and a stick of butter...

Background: Kevin and I have given up TV for lent. We have done it before and we really enjoy the kind of time no TV creates for us.

Issue: No TV equals no news.... and I am really ok with this fact. I stay in the loop online, which is what I prefer to do anyway. However, last night our internet was not working and we missed the "Great Storm" forecast. So when I awoke this morning to snow flurries I felt the need to hurry, to rush somewhere. But where?

Realization: Why is it those of born and raised in the South have a compulsion-- a need to scurry to the grocery store for winter storms? How bad does it really get that we need to 'stock up' 'just in case'? Remember the great storm of ... '82?
I can hear Glen Burns in my head.... Action 2 weather.... stay tuned!

I must say I was shocked the first time I rushed to Kroger to stock up during our first Kentucky snow...there were parking places, milk was on the shelves, and there was no line in the beer isle. Different.

But I am not a local, so off to Kroger I will go.... 6-8 inches of snow...
what do we need?

A loaf of bread....
A container of milk...
and a stick of butter.....

or something like that.

It is too cold to wear pajamas to school... or is it?

Today it is cold.

Very cold.

I have said, " This is the coldest I have ever been" at least twice today and I think five times in one day is my record. That day involved ice.

So it is cold. I feel like I really have to establish this fact.

I am ready for spring. I am formally protesting the late arrival of spring in Kentucky by already switching to spring footwear. This small but important willful act has indeed increased my feeling of walking around on blocks of ice. Yet, sock-less and frozen my claustrophobic feet are proclaiming it is time for sunshine and warm weather and I feel good about the claim.

Maybe, just maybe, it will flip-flop weather by the weekend... at least in the house.

Today is pajama day!
Did you know this? Or as Cavender says, "How do you know this mama?" Cavender's school calendar has it clearly labeled on March 5th, Pajama Day. I have been attending or teaching in schools for most of my life and I do not recall an official pajama day until today. What was I missing?
Perhaps all those things that a pre-schooler does in a day at school will be better-- a little more pleasurable because it is pajama day.
I know nap time should be better.

The Seed

Is it a seed of thought that grounds us, roots us to those around us?
Or is growth the sequence of actions that are produced from something urging to be born from within us?

I wanted a tomato sandwich-- the seed of thought was planted. But will it fall on untended soil like so many of my thoughts. Will it bear fruit?

So I have been planning a garden this spring.
I have decided on tomatoes.

The work of gardening will have to be done... or I will have to fill myself on the empty thoughts of good intentions.

I know the smell of those sticky vines will make me sick for home. But the joy of tomato sandwiches- the delightful combination of the freshest of white bread, mayonnaise, tomatoes, salt and pepper- packed onto the roof of my mouth will make it worth the sadness that smelly vine will produce.

Tomatoes.... grow little seeds.