...you let me change lanes while I was driving in my car

My friend Jen and I used to love this crazy old song in college. It immediately popped into my head when I came across a massive traffic jam on this cooler than cool new Hot wheels contraption donated to my kids by a neighbor. I've had two hours and counting of uninterrupted work time to clean out my entire refrigerator and pantry in preparation for a pilgrimage to Costco. I am thankful today for hand-me-downs and the "cost me nothing" pleasures they afford to our family.

A moment of silence

This is a picture of my computer screen taken one minute, exactly, before the document displayed upon it was attached and sent via e-mail to my editor at Conciliar Press. Over a year ago, I embarked on a project that would prove to test my limits as a writer at heart, as a mother, and as an Orthodox Christian. 42, 132 words later, I am reeling from the experience of both beginning and then completing a manuscript that I never would have dreamed I had in me. Silence, please, silence. No lyrics, no music, no nagging reminders to "work on the book, work on the book, work on the book," at least just for a minute or two. Whatever else happens with it from here on out, I am thankful for being pushed - for the motivation to actually finish something, to accomplish something, I started. Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy upon me, a sinner.

Good Times?

In 1979, my parents, brother, and I gathered in our brown living room, in front of our brown couch, on top of our brown rug, for a portrait that would capture forever the staleness of our decor. I know my mom was not alone in her affinity for earth, or perhaps more accurately "dirt," tones; I realize that heavy wooden fixtures, silk flower arrangements, and drab oil paintings were all the rage, but considering their current house with its breezy elegance and vibrant palette of rusts, and greens, and whites, I am surprised that my mother and father subjected us and our living space to such uninspired monochromaticisim. Fortunately, we ourselves were obviously super stylin'. Thank goodness for Prell shampoo and polyester!

love hurts

Just before the pride and joy exhibited in this picture, there was a moment when Prissy's birthday wish come true was dampened slightly by the throbbing sensation of two pink and sparkly flower earrings being thrust through her tender flesh. It was touch and go there for a second at the Piercing Pagoda - would she ever recover from the trauma? We discovered this afternoon there is little that cannot be healed by way of time and some chocolate covered marshmallows. What a day! What an adventure! What a big girl!

Little acts of kindness, little words of love, make our earthly home like heaven above

We had no budget to speak of really - either of us, so in the summer of 2001 we threw caution to the wind and combined our meager resources to purchase a nondescript two-flat on the wrong side of Chicago. Beth, whom I knew from college, and her husband, Jared, were tired of renting. Troy and I had a two-year-old son and a baby due that August; we longed to own a place without landlords or street only parking. We made a three to five year commitment, had a lawyer draw up the paperwork and spent whatever spare change we had left on paint and wallpaper remover. They took the upstairs unit; we carved out our own space on the bottom floor. And for the next 58 months, we lived, laughed, mourned, celebrated, reproduced, and matured. By the time we said our teary goodbyes in the spring of 2006, I had four children, a soul full of beautiful memories, and a new revelation concerning God's grace: that He reveals His love for us through the selflessness of friends and neighbors.

It was so great spending time with you this weekend!

And the ball goes up, and the ball comes down, and she swings her bat all the way around...

It's becoming more and more challenging to find summertime activities that all of my kids can enjoy. There's the park, the pool, and the library, each of which we have done and re-done Ad nauseam. So today, I uncharacteristically broke out the whiffle ball bat and started pitching. Troy, my love, you would have been so proud of me!

What's that they tell you about a book and a cover?

My sister-in-law, Paige, (pictured here with her daughter, Jane, behind the medium sized coffee I am sipping - after having scrounged up two dollars worth of change from our laundry room to purchase it) and I, took all of our kids to Barnes and Noble this morning. Maybe it's the expertly arranged display tables or the inviting smell of scones wafting seductively through the aisles that make me every time I visit pine over pricey amounts of paperbacks, hardcovers, even trade journals on topics that under normal circumstances would never pique my interest. "This time," I swear to my covetous self, "I will cut out those carbs, Feng Shui my bedroom, or make sense of William Faulkner using this perfect book." And then I leave empty handed, like always.