Sink or swim?

  It's no secret that I'm stuck in my book.  I'm starting to despise the word "memoir".  It's pompous.  Why is my life elevated to such a level that it deserves a published work?  Why do I think I'm special enough for others to spend time and energy reading about me?  How can I possibly spend that much time immersed in myself and claim not to be a narcissist?  How can I justify taking precious time away from my children during the day, or my husband at night, to pour my heart into something which, odds are, won't be particularly beneficial- monetarily speaking?  The truth is- it's not, I'm not, and I can't...convincingly.  And yet, I must. 


Campfire Food

   The main appeal of camping?  The food.  I run across yummy camping nibbles on Pinterest all the time.  I yearn for the day we cook over the fire in a cast-iron dutch oven or skillet.  Until then, we'll stick with what's easy- Hobo Dinner with marshmallows for dessert.


In a Tent

   Camping.  Camping with kids.  Did you just flinch?  Or did you sigh?  I loved camping as a kid and even as an adult.  Cozy tents, a kaleidoscope of stars, crackling campfires, and spending the day covered in a layer of dirt was charming, even exhilarating.  From Girl Scout trips to 3am munchies on the Guadalupe, I loved it all.  Now, camping as a parent?  That's tricky, even a bit scary.


No, Mommy. Not you.

   Spring break usually means a hiatus from the demands of school, the first my skin is warmed by the sun each year, and a time to spend catching up with family and friends I'm normally too busy to see.  I scheduled no plans for the first half of the break.  Scheduling nothing seems paradoxical, but it must exist, or I won't exist well.  We still had a trip to look forward to at the end of the week and needed to take advantage of our down time.  But I didn't realize "Spriiiing Break!!" could also mean "Spring Break."


In a book

   I feel incredibly guilty for abandoning books for most of my adult life.  They were forced down our throats with such frequency in school and, sadly enough, my first reaction to force is usually rebellion.  Though I truly loved works like The Secret Garden, Jane Eyre, and even Taming of the Shrew, Homer's The Odyssey ruined it all for me.  It was the first semester of ninth grade honors English, and our teacher told us to start reading.  Had I any clue she would give us a pop quiz on the book bi-weekly and it would consume what felt like the entire first semester, I might have actually read the book Cliff's Notes.  I had opened it and attempted to read it the first week of the assignment, but I just couldn't make it past the first few pages.  I couldn't.  I hated it.  Ever since, I avoided books and even laughed at the whole concept of reading.  Who had time for that?  I'd rather be out living my life, thank you very much. 



What just happened here?

   I'm not quite sure what just happened.  I think I just became a bird watcher.  ??  I'm pleased my nerd status has been elevated.  Although, I didn't see this coming.  Do we suddenly have more birds pecking the ground?  Is it because of the bird feeders?  Are they here all year round?  Am I only noticing them now because of the bare winter branches?  Or am I just changing, still discovering what makes me tick, and morphing?  Who knows?

   This past winter has almost made meteorologists lose all credibility with me.  They downplay forecasts, assuring us there's no need to worry; other times they use mother nature as a pawn in their never ending, fear-mongering game known to us as the "news".  The last two storms we've had in north Texas were minimized.  The former nudged us to try something new.  Baby Girl came home from preschool with half an ear of corn dipped in bird seed that week.  Little Girl was jealous, of course.  So I referred to my favorite search engine, Pinterest, and got some ideas to make bird feeders of our own on what might be a snow an ice day.


Winter Weather Report

   When winter weather is en route to Texas (with the exception of the panhandle), everyone panics.  I never did until I became a mom.  I stop everything, make several lists, and spend an afternoon filling the car with supplies.  If it wasn't for the storm a few years ago which unexpectedly imprisoned us for almost a week, I probably wouldn't worry much.  Now the fear creeps in and I panic.  As the ice finally arrives, I make myself comfortable in the kitchen and cook and entertain my little heart out.  Ice days are some of my most treasured moments in this chaotic stage of life because I'm forced to slow down.