Patience is its own reward

I so wanted to get this picture. My son, paragon of patience here, indulged his momma. This fun picture is my reward. I took many pictures that afternoon, some amazing, some beautiful, one in particular, practically miraculous, but this one was what I wanted, and he was a sweetheart to patiently bear it while I shot and adjusted, adjusted and shot.

reward

a little whimsy in thirds

Getting around to a little spring clean up with this little guy. Reminds me to enjoy the moment. What tickles your whimsy bone?

thirds

 

speaking of hope, fear, and daring…

nanoThis is what NaNoWriMo looks like around here. You might see the text in the background — but what I’m talking about is the stress eating.

Ice cream.

For when nothing else will do.

I’m not going to lie; that sad little block of Heath Klondike has nothing on this.

What’s your poison?

laundry, and a therapeutic poem

I’ve got a new poem up at Catholic Lane. This one is about the laundry. I whine so much about it that I vented about the procedure, especially a little honesty about having to reset the dryer because I forget the clothes. Do you ever do that? I admit I suffer moments of homemaker angst when I acknowledge I’m not Suzy Homemaker. And then I get over it, believe me.

Anyway, there’s ultimately a little joy in the task, even if it does come at the end when I roll around in the freshly laundered towels.

You can read it here.