tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78792550017349884352012-01-23T06:38:46.948-05:00MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.comBlogger2311100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-62610791902672334122012-01-11T09:29:00.000-05:002012-01-11T09:29:18.902-05:00

<!--[if gte mso 9]> Normal 0 false false false EN-US X-NONE X-NONE <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]>

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-13837715207821425362012-01-02T07:45:00.000-05:002012-01-02T07:45:30.422-05:00

This morning I awoke with a burst of creative energy, neurons firing madly. My first thought: Better lighting! Improving our household lighting should be another aspiration for the new year... Ah, the delights of double entendres (the clean kind)! Because a little while later this morning (yes, I'm writing this at 7:30 and referencing "a little while later" -- hey, I'm an early riser), I read

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-14571586587748977452012-01-01T22:03:00.000-05:002012-01-01T22:03:17.298-05:00

<!--[if gte mso 9]> Normal 0 false false false EN-US X-NONE X-NONE MicrosoftInternetExplorer4 <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]>

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-25682510184789827352011-12-04T19:08:00.000-05:002011-12-04T19:08:42.658-05:00

My aunts, Margie and Velma, with their daddy, late 1930s Sometimes, I do unreasonable things. When traveling, I choose out-of-the-way bed & breakfasts over handier hotels. When home, I secure Craigslist "deals" requiring Herculean retrieval efforts. Am I driven by the chase? Or am I, by nature, enchanted by convolution? (I recently reflected on Facebook that I "habitually complicate matters by

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-64268472306615300042011-11-10T09:11:00.000-05:002011-11-10T09:11:27.163-05:00

<!--[if gte mso 9]> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]> Normal 0 false false false EN-US X-NONE X-NONE <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]>

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-17736552812887057162011-10-24T08:22:00.001-04:002011-12-07T16:16:14.356-05:00

I am SO on my C-Minus Game that I couldn't even manage to post this on the right day. So it starts out, "It's Sunday evening..." and it's NOT. It's Monday morning. (sigh) However, I read the most encouraging thing today, posted by a Facebook friend: "A person does not need to be anything other or greater than his own little faltering preface — in the confidence that at some point in eternity

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-45304771849350461312011-09-12T11:41:00.001-04:002011-09-12T19:07:43.828-04:00

Fortuitously, the fish died. The second day of school. Which also happened to be the day our mortgage refinance went through, and our home equity loan, both of which I welcomed as answers to prayers for relief from debt and overall middle-class money malaise. I didn’t mean to finish off the fish—really. In fact, last Wednesday evening I spent a half hour or more carefully combining the “old”

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-30739230457767812252011-09-03T09:26:00.000-04:002011-09-03T09:26:50.389-04:00

from new3.missbimbo.com <!--[if gte mso 9]> Normal 0 false false false EN-US X-NONE X-NONE MicrosoftInternetExplorer4 <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]>

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-40228424737712023942011-08-27T14:58:00.000-04:002011-08-27T14:58:02.287-04:00

Reuben decided to sketch his new "friend," who frightens his little sis. (Bonus?)

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-145846583898595942011-08-27T12:20:00.000-04:002011-08-27T12:20:33.851-04:00

<!--[if gte mso 9]> Normal 0 false false false EN-US X-NONE X-NONE MicrosoftInternetExplorer4 <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]>

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-85502397447050355302011-08-25T08:38:00.000-04:002011-08-25T08:38:29.338-04:00

Photo from http://robinhobb.com/2010/09/off-to-college/ "I arrived here 9 years ago, skinny, pale, naive, just a kid. You put me through some of the best times, and some of the worst times in my childhood. You've been an extremely important part of growing up, for me. I met some of the most amazing people here, and I've met some horrible people, but all of them shaped my life and turned

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-56243717971240219642011-07-06T19:36:00.000-04:002011-07-06T19:36:45.192-04:00

1) Chicory -- I love how that spindly, scraggly-looking weed defies the worst circumstances and blooms its perfect periwinkle all over tarnation this time of year. 2) Raspberries -- These under-sung fruits are more precious than rubies to me. They grew wild in my parents' back yard, and they taste like carefree childhood. 3) Bird songs -- Early morning and early evening are the loveliest parts

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-45065058919723488782011-06-23T18:21:00.000-04:002011-06-23T18:21:01.516-04:00

O God of such truth as sweeps away all lies, of such grace as shrivels all excuses, come now to find us for we have lost ourselves in a shuffle of disguises and in the rattle of empty words. Let your Spirit move mercifully To recreate us from The chaos of our lives. We have been careless of our days our loves our gifts our chances… Our prayer is to change, O God, not out of despair of self

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-62072137242118259002011-05-12T08:52:00.000-04:002011-05-13T16:27:01.002-04:00

Albion's own Jackie Madejski (who played the part of Peter Pan in the outstanding A-Town spring production of that show) has been selected by the Rochester Broadway Theatre League to compete for the opportunity to represent Albion and the Rochester area in a State competition in NYC. 1st prize is an annual $25,000 scholarship to NYU.  Below is a web address where you can vote for her once

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-23157174848125828022011-05-09T20:28:00.000-04:002011-05-09T20:28:43.450-04:00

I'm warming up a can of "meatball soup," Ben's favorite. Ben and Pearl wait together at the dining room table, eager to be served. Their banter: Ben: Dinner is the best invention ever! Pearl: Uh...nohhh!! (all, like, Valley Girl in tone) Mommy!! Isn't God's plan the best invention everrrr?! Like, He made the worrrrrld!!

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-51940826594522291332011-05-07T09:29:00.000-04:002011-05-07T09:29:12.491-04:00

(Been awhile. Hi!) I don't really have time to post a full-fledged entry. Won't happen until after the major fund-raising banquet for my workplace/ministry next week. But as I've been "working the phones" in the past few days in anticipation of the big event, I've come to reflect on one of the realities of working from home -- this is true for both Will and me: When there's an important phone

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-70998356668266525172011-03-30T07:53:00.000-04:002011-03-30T07:53:46.687-04:00

<!--[if gte mso 9]> Normal 0 false false false EN-US X-NONE X-NONE MicrosoftInternetExplorer4 <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]>

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-86587655830179191902011-03-28T08:58:00.001-04:002011-03-28T09:00:30.036-04:00

A week ago Sunday, Will’s mother and brother came to visit us. For several days beforehand, I’d plotted how and when to clean and de-clutter, and my good intentions had been repeatedly thwarted. The night before their arrival, I was bemoaning my total failure as a housekeeper when this Pearl of wisdom flowed from my 5-year-old’s lips: “Gramma C and Uncle S won’t care about the mess, Mommy. They’

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-76542818736534570972011-03-24T08:13:00.001-04:002011-03-24T08:13:42.615-04:00

“How big is Heaven? … Is it bigger than Russia?”~“My teachers keep saying that I’m kind.”~Listening to Vi practice her 6th-grade trombone music: “I know that song – I think it’s by Justin Bieber.”~Holding the book for bedtime story, so I could nurse the baby while we read:Mommy: “OK, next page…”Ben puts his hand to his nose, then turns the page.Mommy: “Why’d you do that?”Ben: “I was just sniffin’

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-55054323017102085422011-03-19T15:54:00.006-04:002011-03-19T17:32:22.354-04:00

(I have to be brief because, per usual, I don’t have much time. You might say my free moments come in sound bites these days.) First, “old wastebaskets.” Well, one. One wastebasket. Today, while rinsing a mustard poop-covered FuzziBunz and leaving it to soak by the utility sink, I realized that I had purchased that particular pink plastic pail in the summer of 1992, anticipating my freshman year

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-32432269272805001962011-03-18T07:36:00.001-04:002011-03-18T07:37:23.426-04:00

Our Vi takes the stage tonight as Joy-the-snorting-stepsister in the A-Town production of Cinderella (Rodgers and Hammerstein), 7 p.m., Middle School Aud. -- should be fun! (I have stage-mother butterflies...) Two shows Saturday also, 12 noon and 7 p.m.

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-58547995719587517712011-03-05T08:39:00.001-05:002011-03-06T04:22:12.951-05:00

Much to mull over, consider, pursue-- more than I humanly can. Lord, help me discern, decipher and delegate, decide the dogged: "to do or not do?" And then... Deem the ream of to-do's: Redeemed! By the Father of time, Son of "the hour has come," and the Spirit of truth in lending-- for truly, my time is but lent. As the time of Lent approaches, reproaching me for frittered minutes: "Teach

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-71697588793324013192011-02-26T09:34:00.001-05:002011-02-26T09:37:23.794-05:00

I was tidying up our main living space this morning, muttering to myself about the incredible accumulation of crumbs, paper scraps, raisins, M&Ms, and broken bits of crayon on the floor I’d just swept yesterday. I was breathing sighs of gratitude for hardwood, not carpet; and I was mentally churning over the array of chores and errands available for my attention today.  I need to make a list! I

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-5127116522070089322011-02-22T09:38:00.001-05:002011-02-22T09:38:49.718-05:00

These are dark, dark days in A-Town: Suspect could face first-degree murder charge. Since Saturday, when the news broke, I’m finding it hard to sleep, nevermind write. I know that such horrific things happen daily throughout the world, but this is the first time it’s happened a block and a half from my house. Heaven help us.

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-12419966516668598962011-02-13T09:08:00.000-05:002011-02-13T09:08:05.917-05:00

<!--[if gte mso 9]> Normal 0 false false false EN-US X-NONE X-NONE <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]>

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-8503279335832615992011-02-05T08:59:00.001-05:002011-02-05T11:35:19.033-05:00

Hark! The Februaryfunk encroacheth!Resist, resist!I shall not retreatfrom my mundane itinerary—I shall seize it!Fold the laundry,Make the meal,Comfort the coughing baby, tenderly~ tenderly ~carry on with my ordinary life,finding life itselfExtraordinary.

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-43992438760763583172011-01-31T16:59:00.001-05:002011-01-31T17:00:30.892-05:00

Yesterday, in a sweet ceremony attended by some of our dearest friends and relatives, our Lia was baptized. I thank God for the beauty of the day and the spirit of love that surrounded us. (Not to mention my blessed relief that attendees refrained from sparring with me regarding the sacramental significance of infant baptism. I simply wasn’t up for that, seminary education or not.) Lovely as it

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-16771761458852514492011-01-20T09:53:00.001-05:002011-01-20T09:54:10.069-05:00

I don’t know if she coined the term, but my sister accurately labels the following phenomenon: You find out about something for the first time, and then, over the next few days or weeks, it keeps popping up—conversation at the gym, magazine article, radio reference, grocery store…it can get a little eerie. B calls the experience “déjà new.” My most recent case of déjà new is called quinoa, a

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-63236311607694374512011-01-17T08:14:00.001-05:002011-01-17T08:15:28.568-05:00

Vi had a friend over this weekend. When we went to pick her up, Shana piled into our van with the usual sleepover gear, plus a gallon-sized Ziploc bag and a page of instructions, which she handed to me unceremoniously. I LOL'd. "It's baaaaaack," I chortled. (What's that from? Chucky? Freddy? Some '80s horror film series, I think.) Three years ago, I received another such bag, and I wrote a blog

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-10628387874168446432011-01-13T20:05:00.003-05:002011-01-13T20:50:09.238-05:00

Switching bags. As if I don’t have a hard enough time keeping track of things, I’ve got about 4 bags in rotation right now and I’m so, so confused. Also, Will just informed me that his “main bag” has been missing for more than a month! How did I not know this?! [I predict a future A-Town entry entitled, “Our house is like an ocean/The tide takes what it will.”] Cake mix cookies. Especially after

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-43405138582644649242011-01-12T21:37:00.001-05:002011-01-13T07:57:36.043-05:00

My friends keep turning 40, and I keep missing their birthday bashes! Third one in as many years, I missed tonight, no thanks to the crummy weather. On an “up” note, at least I’m not the one turning 40. (jk, GF—HB2U, and I’ll get your gift to you ASAP) On another up note, a sunny pot-o-daffodils is bloomin’ in my kitchen. Nothing says “Scram” to the dead-of-winter doldrums like a bouquet of

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-91639977214163879782011-01-10T11:25:00.003-05:002011-01-14T08:11:50.906-05:00

I redeemed my Thanksgiving Elmer’s glue-like disaster with some pretty passable smashed potatoes yesterday. We had some old friends over for Sunday dinner. The sort of friends who feel like a soft, sentimental sweater you’ll never outgrow and never, ever give away. The sort of sweater you might like to be wearing when you die. In your sleep. We did discuss death, actually. And later, when I met

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-39561762388455458102011-01-06T13:33:00.003-05:002011-01-07T10:57:42.880-05:00

My promised list of favorite Yuletide gifts and memories (because so often, “presence” is the best present): Middle school music (really!), a gift significantly supplemented by Old Man Winter—Vi’s band and chorus concert was originally scheduled on a Tuesday that got snowed out. No school, no concert. But for our family, that became a big blessing because Grandma and Grandpa were not going to be

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-45007038376241452392011-01-05T08:04:00.000-05:002011-01-05T08:04:48.044-05:00

<!--[if gte mso 9]> Normal 0 false false false EN-US X-NONE X-NONE <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]>

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-44759565767478920462011-01-03T10:02:00.002-05:002011-01-04T07:53:31.329-05:00

It’s the New Year, and I’m back to blogging, with mixed emotions. On the one hand, I do enjoy writing for writing’s sake, and it seems worthwhile to record the small delights of daily life with our lively family. On the other hand, I worry too much about who’s reading, who’s not reading, whether anyone’s reading, and whether my readers are wholeheartedly appreciating, merely tolerating, or

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-73806997891863128062010-12-17T14:46:00.000-05:002010-12-17T14:46:09.409-05:00

“Reindeer in poses and Fiskars and mittens…” An eclectic little list, to make merry: “Santa’s Rockin’,” by The Wiggles – My favorite non-classic Christmas show, followed closely by “Christmas at Plum Creek” (from Little House on the Prairie, Season 1) and “A Keaton Christmas Carol” (from Family Ties, not sure what season – it’s on a “Holiday Treats” DVD I bought for myself last December). Not

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-67823095936029442862010-12-10T06:32:00.000-05:002010-12-10T06:32:14.441-05:00

Will always puts away the pizza. Whenever we're too tired, too busy, too "whatever" to deal with dinner and we let Uncle Sal do the cooking, a few slices get left in the box on the dining room table. We ride out the evening and I go to bed the same time as the kids, too tuckered even to change into my pajamas. Per usual, I awake before everyone else, make my coffee, open the 'frig to retrieve

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-31111824269894328402010-11-26T10:56:00.001-05:002010-11-26T17:18:07.768-05:00

Thanksgiving was fine, but I badly botched the mashed potatoes. Ironic, seeing as how: a) I insisted on making them because Will’s are typically butterless and bland; and b) I had actually taken the time to read an article online yesterday morning about how not to botch the mashed potatoes. As my 14-year-old niece would say, “Fail!” Ah, well—we consumed our obligatory feast anyhow, in the company

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-55377335162894395922010-11-17T22:02:00.001-05:002010-11-18T07:43:11.902-05:00

Today was, supposedly, "National Un-Friend Day" on Facebook. My own "collection" of 826 people, with whom I enjoy enormously erratic levels of interpersonal connection, does sometimes cause me pause. And for a few minutes, I thought about dropping perhaps a dozen distant acquaintances from my list--people I might or might not recognize if I encountered them at Wegmans. But then I remembered

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-37655175264871068042010-11-16T19:31:00.000-05:002010-11-16T19:31:31.962-05:00

I, Grace, have a very exciting announcement: I made pumpkin soup today! From an actual pumpkin (spherical orange object so popular this time of year). Plus half an onion, 2 cloves of garlic, 2 cans of chicken broth, a dollop of whole milk, and a few sprinkles of dried parsley flakes that might have been in the cupboard forever, but who cares?! I made something from (almost) scratch! Hurrah for

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-9566849564479425892010-10-31T08:05:00.004-04:002010-10-31T08:31:27.425-04:00

The crows are causing quite a cacophony in my neighborhood this morning—making a mighty racket! They’re clustered, as if for a coffee klatch, in the treetops about a block from my house. When I first heard their honking, I thought romantically, “Oh—the geese! They’re singing their song of change!” In my mind, I began waxing poetic about the changes I need to make in my own life, drawing

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-19740020072871440542010-10-27T17:38:00.000-04:002010-10-27T17:38:32.368-04:00

<!--[if gte mso 9]> Normal 0 false false false EN-US X-NONE X-NONE MicrosoftInternetExplorer4 <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]>

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-8338417947310218962010-10-26T07:22:00.005-04:002010-10-29T13:41:40.227-04:00

I’ve been having a lot of “What Not to Wear” days lately, a consequence of rapid weight gain (via pregnancy), accompanied by my scale’s unprecedented stubbornness. Despite my halfhearted efforts to shed postnatal poundage, the needle refuses to budge. If I sound like a broken record, it’s because my Sunbeam analog weight measuring machine looks like one! (I’m also experiencing an unprecedented

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-41353861841203297812010-09-25T13:36:00.001-04:002010-09-25T13:37:03.791-04:00

I’ve been neglecting this blog in favor of the baby (good choice, right?), but since she’s asleep and the other kids are happily occupied, I am sitting down to write in the same way I started Life in A-Town: A Saturday morning, a cup of coffee, and no idea what I’m going to say. Today is Charles W. Howard Day in A-Town, a celebration of the original Santa Claus School and its founder, a native

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-30851537467898689222010-09-21T07:48:00.002-04:002010-09-21T09:57:39.288-04:00

First day of fall Garbage day ’70s day at Vi’s school Ear surgery for one of our cats A job interview for a dear friend Gonna try to upload Will’s book for “Search Inside” mode on Amazon Dance classes for both girls Leftovers for dinner? Still wearing my reindeer pajamas Better get a move on Update, mid-morning: Found out at the vet's that it's not the first day of fall--tomorrow is Also found

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-15947990449282792832010-08-30T14:04:00.005-04:002010-09-05T11:27:12.691-04:00

This is how my brain works: I edit myself in my sleep. Yesterday I wrote a Facebook status update saying I am “the sister of an Iron Man.” (My brother did one of those super-duper-crazy swim-bike-run triathlons...and did it very, very well!) But this morning I woke up thinking, “No—I am A sister of an Iron Man, not THE sister.” Because, of course, my brother has two sisters, and to say I am “the”

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-833554006519203822010-08-17T11:36:00.002-04:002010-08-17T11:42:50.268-04:00

This summer is slipping away— not like the hourglass sands, though— not effortlessly, not so quickly I barely perceive its passing. No, time is like labor: It is difficult, it is painful, it is work. It is natural, worthwhile, yielding life and love and beauty, but—good heavens!—it often hurts, and I certainly notice. Mothers who say, “Where did the time go?” must have tapped into a

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-232028473868557502010-08-05T16:59:00.002-04:002010-10-01T11:08:20.777-04:00

It’s Wednesday, right? No, Thursday…I have entered the time warp that is my post-partum, been-out-of-the-house-only-4-times-in-the-past-12-days (and 1 of those times was a trip to the clothesline!), currently small, small world. I want to write, but I can barely think about anything but baby, and I’ve got a baby blog for sharing those thoughts (however incoherent). (And I reissue the invitation

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-46945265023133045522010-07-28T08:12:00.001-04:002010-07-28T08:13:42.457-04:00

Baby Lia has arrived.Message Grace at iluvalbion-at-yahoo-dot-com if you want to see the baby blog but don't know where to find it.

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-19836753780774160152010-07-22T10:45:00.003-04:002010-07-22T10:48:56.350-04:00

I think I would like it if the baby decided to arrive early. Is that stating the obvious? Does every woman feel this way in the last month of pregnancy (12 days before her due date, to be more specific)? It’s not rational. I possess ample experience-based understanding of the intense workload that awaits me following this new person’s birth (not to mention the intense “workload” of labor and

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-1398023871241486532010-07-21T07:51:00.001-04:002010-07-21T07:54:09.948-04:00

Since summer began, I’ve been trying to read more. I tend to be rather sporadic about reading. I have good intentions. And I have many good books. But sometimes my focus is elsewhere, such as putting on a fundraiser for work, or preparing the house for a baby, and I just don’t seem to want to read…even though, theoretically, I want to read (if that makes sense). In the past 2-3 weeks, I have

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-79701055282091673312010-07-19T18:03:00.000-04:002010-07-19T18:05:30.798-04:00

Will might as well have brought me roses. That’s how excited I was to spot the box of Raisin Nut Bran on the kitchen cart where we keep our cereal. (And actually, I don’t really care for roses all that much. Years ago, I had a mean boyfriend who often brought me roses after behaving badly, as if the flowers’ sweetness would somehow compensate for his jerkiness. Not.) Will is good. He buys

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-19480471263566448392010-07-18T20:52:00.001-04:002010-07-18T20:54:31.484-04:00

Delivered Vi to camp today. Felt sentimental and strange because next time I see her, she might have a new baby brother or sister. Or not. (The waiting game—sigh…) Crickets are “cricking” like mad. Reminds of summer eves in Michigan, where we visited my paternal grandparents during the “dog days.” (I had the front door open and was enjoying the nice breeze until a minute ago, when a nearby

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-23362400381955383122010-07-17T14:47:00.002-04:002010-07-17T14:51:46.107-04:00

There comes a point in every pregnancy when I just want to withdraw from the world. I don’t want to be seen. I don’t want to waddle anywhere to be gawked at, cooed about, patted, patronized, or even genuinely nurtured by well-meaning, good-hearted friends. I have reached that point in this pregnancy. I just want to be home. Of course, I won’t get my wish. I still have to work. My blessedly good

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-3645857562379634492010-07-15T19:41:00.001-04:002010-07-15T19:44:26.508-04:00

When I used to be a runner (oh, how I long to be, intend to be a runner again, if I can), I would talk myself through difficult moments of training and races. First and foremost, of course: Getting out the door. “Just go, Grace—just go!” On long runs, when I’d find myself getting tired and losing form (straining forward or slouching), I’d say: “Straight up and down, straight up and down…” and I

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-454985994107550152010-07-14T22:15:00.001-04:002010-07-14T22:40:21.429-04:00

I just hung a load of wet wash on the line. At night. Is there anything wrong with that? Bats flitted through the dark sky above me. I wondered whether it would rain while we slept, and whether the rain would be bad for the clothes. I doubted it. (Not that that it would rain—it might. But my laundry will fare just fine, I’m sure.) It’s been hot here. And humid. So hot and humid that most days,

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-88037008877980306822010-07-08T07:46:00.004-04:002010-07-08T09:24:32.232-04:00

(Not that kinda drinkin'...)On the tails of my Tim Hortons iced mocha cappuccino confession the other day, my midwife (who, as far as I know, does not read this blog and did not know about my developing habit) gave me an earnest talking-to about avoiding sweet drinks this final few weeks of pregnancy. Basically, she said, sugar is only going to bulk up the baby, making delivery more difficult for

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-22179050147424474362010-07-04T22:12:00.002-04:002010-07-04T22:19:34.211-04:00

I’ve been nesting like mad. A friend of mine is hosting a wedding reception at her house (mainly in the yard) next weekend. She’s “nesting,” too, in a different sense. “Don’t you wonder why you put off doing this stuff for so long?” she asked as we compared notes. My answer was a resounding “No!” I have no trouble finding things to do—things other than the little projects that pile up around the

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-26790923156004462482010-06-28T22:45:00.002-04:002010-06-28T22:48:53.985-04:00

One of the perks of having kids 11 years apart is getting to try all the new baby gear that’s come out in the interim. For example, Snappis. I don’t think I gave cloth diapers a moment’s consideration back in 1999, when Vi joined us. But with all the cool covers (bearing clever names like Bummis, Bum Genius, Happy Heineys and Fuzzi Bunz) and the invention of these non-pricking pin replacements,

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-61023993302751160602010-06-22T10:18:00.001-04:002010-06-22T10:20:48.501-04:00

This morning I found myself Googling “pre-partum depression.” Is there such a thing? Because some days—days like today—I think I’ve got it. My thoughts are largely negative and admittedly irrational—BUT I DON’T CARE! My nerves feel like I’m wearing them on the wrong side of my skin. Little things are bothering me much more than they should…things like cars that drive by my house—and don’t get me

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-10205883819560947112010-06-21T06:55:00.003-04:002010-06-21T07:47:23.327-04:00

It’s the first day of summer, and I’m adopting a sunny attitude! I’ll start with a brief blog post to halt my hiatus from this place called Life in A-Town. I’m 34 weeks pregnant today. It’s not a comfortable state of being, but it is, in many ways, truly glorious. I don’t want to write too many pregnancy musings. In fact, I think that’s why I haven’t written much at all—because it’s difficult to

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-18169836181175964002010-06-02T21:35:00.001-04:002010-06-02T21:37:05.108-04:00

The thing about suffering through a cold while pregnant is that medications masking the symptoms are off limits. So I turned to some of my many maternal media sources for coping advice. One of them, a recent acquisition called Mothering magazine, recommends ginger tea as a natural remedy for coughs and colds. Not ginger tea from a bag—pre-packaged dried leaves you simply steep in hot water—but

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-53485443602094356552010-06-02T21:32:00.000-04:002010-06-02T21:35:48.904-04:00

My dad has a saying—well, many sayings…and this one, like many of them, is more like a dry-humored adage: When dealing with the common cold, you can rest up, drink plenty of fluids, and maybe even pop a few extra vitamin Cs—the cold will last about a week. Or, when you get a cold, you can go about your business, tending to life as usual to the best of your ability while putting up with the

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-33297502543197442082010-05-29T17:33:00.007-04:002010-05-29T18:37:33.669-04:00

Lest my title mislead you, I’m not here to complain about the sweltering weather this past week. I could, mind you, but I’ve whined vicariously through Facebook friends who apparently hate the heat much more than I do. (Truth be told, I prefer it to the bitter cold of winter…yes, even in my current condition.)No, the “Hot Flashes” I’m experiencing aren’t really hot at all. But they’re no doubt

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-91388587713713061112010-05-27T12:41:00.004-04:002010-05-27T18:12:51.640-04:00

"I suppose parasols are out of fashion," I mused to myself while walking .8 miles to work under the blazing-hot sun."How much do you really care about fashion?" I replied, glancing down at my missionary/Mennonite-ish make-shift maternity outfit: A short-sleeved textured shirt I bought about a week ago at the Goodwill thrift store; a long stretchy sage-green skirt borrowed ages ago from my mother

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-19061367337380230892010-05-24T21:24:00.003-04:002010-05-24T21:31:23.347-04:00

It’s Monday, my day off. (There really is no such thing, is there?) I work part time for a nonprofit agency, and I used to enjoy my Mondays—they were great for puttering around the house, doing laundry, paying bills, catching up on friends’ blogs…that kind of stuff (in addition to my everyday Mom duties of feeding, dressing, reading, coloring, breaking up fights and enforcing Wii restrictions).

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-53054747192542573642010-05-22T16:08:00.002-04:002010-05-22T19:11:28.411-04:00

I’m feeling neither inspired nor inclined to write a full-fledged blog post today, but here are a few thoughts swirling about in my brain: I’m nearly 30 weeks pregnant, and I feel pretty darn good. I’m grateful for that; I really am. Sure, I feel big. Well, I am big! But my body seems to be accommodating the extra weight gracefully. My best indication? I’m still sleeping well, a blessing I do

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-74292975136376774952010-05-16T16:37:00.006-04:002010-05-16T16:49:41.499-04:00

1) On writing and reverence A couple weeks ago I mentioned that a “talking heads” program on PBS had drawn me in. Part of what they were saying—“they” being Bill Moyers and Barry Lopez—resonated with some thoughts I had at the Festival of Faith & Writing last month. I had/have good intentions about further developing that notion, but for now, here’s the snippet of that interview that made me say

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-89217908882723478102010-05-10T20:01:00.003-04:002010-05-10T20:07:00.342-04:00

Twenty-eight weeks today! The beginning of my third trimester. I am really starting to brace myself for the months ahead. I know from experience that these last 3 months of pregnancy become increasingly difficult and uncomfortable, and I also know that it gets even harder when the baby arrives. There is joy amid the stress, but there is, no doubt, stress. Last week I picked up the latest edition

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-78828046536035240962010-05-08T22:41:00.002-04:002010-05-08T22:46:48.835-04:00

It's Mother's Day Eve, and what are my dearest wishes for the 'morrow? Cleaning, of course! Strange, but true.

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-69193700207685642642010-05-02T16:48:00.000-04:002010-05-02T16:48:23.738-04:00

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-1482753817336669482010-05-01T13:12:00.004-04:002010-05-01T13:34:47.555-04:00

I could hear the droning discussion coming from the other room. I was fiddling around on Facebook, as usual, and Will was nestled, with newspaper, into his favorite nook of the couch. On nights when I stay awake past the kids’ bedtime, this is our typical wind-down routine. The talking heads on the tube sounded dreadfully boring from where I sat, so it didn’t surprise me that Will was able to

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-65824401969064352112010-04-28T22:55:00.002-04:002010-04-28T22:59:45.894-04:00

I am bristling at someone’s churlish behavior toward me tonight and trying to let it go…let it go…let it go. (deeeeeep breath) “Churlish” was the best antonym I could come up with for “gracious.” I admire graciousness in a person. I disdain its opposite, whether directed toward me or others. What causes a person to behave tactlessly? Insecurity? Ignorance? Arrogance? Jerkiness? (Let it go…let it

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-27968950874746096892010-04-28T16:11:00.001-04:002010-04-28T16:13:02.593-04:00

A good friend and fellow believer sent me this prayer today, and I share it with you:O Holy Spirit of God,abide with us;inspire all our thoughts;pervade our imaginations;suggest all our decisions;order all our doings.Be with us in our silenceand in our speech,in our haste and in our leisure,in company and in solitude,in the freshness of the morning andin the weariness of the evening;And give us

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-78641168075950472942010-04-27T18:25:00.002-04:002010-04-27T18:29:08.670-04:00

I love things like this—lovely things that grow in spite of my inattention.Things like these purple tulips that I bought from a friend’s daughter’s marching band fundraiser. (I felt somewhat obligated, in a “I loved marching band, so I should support this girl’s marching band” kind of way.) I bought them, I planted them (again, somewhat obligingly—I didn’t want to waste the money I’d invested in

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-18754296219764454842010-04-25T16:12:00.003-04:002010-04-26T07:24:28.361-04:00

Here it is: My long-procrastinated blog makeover! I spent the better part of this Sunday afternoon searching for and installing the just-right free Blogger template. The "Photo of the Week" feature on the right--a gap-toothed smiling Ben with Pearl peeking from behind him (a shot I "cartoonized" at BeFunky.com)--was the most taxing part of the blog transition. I had to try about 8 different

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-10286613703822414642010-04-23T09:14:00.004-04:002010-04-23T09:35:41.895-04:00

For me, sanity begins with an empty coffee can. I find I can tolerate the socks, toys, shoes, newspapers, books, business cards—the various and sundry items that populate our floors; a cacophony of clutter; an inanimate, anarchical, miniature city of stuff. So much randomness, I tell myself, signifies the dynamism of the happy humanity of our household. But the writing utensils—the pens, pencils,

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-944879587012449592010-04-21T22:07:00.011-04:002010-04-25T15:43:21.520-04:00

I am still in re-entry mode after a whirlwind of a week last week. I feel unprepared to offer insightful and witty analysis of the banquet and writing conference. But I also feel as though I should say something, so I’ll go for pithy…or at least short and sweet: The Banquet: Pam Tebow, our speaker, was charming and gracious and quite possibly the worst singer I have ever heard—which only added

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-92098610309197015602010-04-12T18:55:00.003-04:002010-04-12T18:58:19.498-04:00

Twenty-four hours before the big night: I have reason to fear that our centerpiece flowers could be delivered to Canada. Our keynote speaker (famous lady with famous-er son) phoned me at home today and my kids promptly erupted into a violent argument. And the dress I bought weeks ago in anticipation of this important event could not be altered to fit my pregnant body. Nevertheless, I remain

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-69792481324380649702010-04-06T19:09:00.002-04:002010-04-06T19:14:20.901-04:00

My blog has been abysmal of late. I’m sorry. I can’t promise any improvement in the immediate future, but I will post a few things now, for posterity’s sake. Easter, as I’ve mentioned before, is my favorite holiday. It’s the one most important to me as a Christian, and, in the Northeast United States where we live, it’s poetically situated at a crucial juncture: The time between the cold, dark

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-75218718963508686722010-03-23T19:45:00.003-04:002010-03-23T19:50:22.335-04:00

Grace feels guiltyFor not blogging,For postponing the cat’s ear appointment,For being poor(ish),For eating sweets,For Facebooking, andFor blogging when my house is still messy.“Grace feels guilty”…That has a wrong sort of ring to it.(Catch me after the banquet, maybe…)P.S. Ten points for Gryffindor to the A-Town reader who can identify the source/meaning behind the photo with this entry (it's

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-8554450159333100162010-03-10T19:34:00.002-05:002010-03-10T19:44:05.770-05:00

My Blog Bug has laid dormant for the past week and a half. In its place, my mind has been taken over by Event Planner Bee—and a busy bee is he! (Sorry for the cheese. This is the voice of a reluctant writer—one who feels she should write but doesn’t feel much like it.)I’ve been having flashbacks to my work as an event planner for my alma mater. They’re not pleasant memories. I don’t know whether

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-72556776552419360022010-02-27T17:59:00.003-05:002010-02-27T18:05:20.408-05:00

We survived a series of sicknesses in the Waters household. Since 2 Saturdays ago, 4 of the 5 family members have endured a 1-2 punch: head cold, followed by stomach bug. It was un-fun. Glad that’s (mostly) over. In the midst of it, I spilled half a cup of boiling-hot tea on the back of my left hand. Also un-fun. In both cases, though—my illness and my hand burn—I was somewhat amazed and duly

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-6871888536024027322010-02-21T18:40:00.002-05:002010-02-21T20:58:24.636-05:00

Lately, Pearl has taken to drinking out of a measuring cup—milk, water, juice, her usual beverages. I let her do it. What’s the harm? And the truth is that our cup supply has dwindled to a pitiful collection of plastic tumblers—many of them given to us as holiday gifts from kindly neighbors, teachers and other caring adults who want to express their affection for our children in the form of

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-56296274886017184602010-02-17T10:06:00.006-05:002010-02-17T16:39:58.854-05:00

Practicing Lent:Cleaning Our Messy HouseBy Ruth Haley Barton“Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit within me.”Psalm 51: 10http://www.thetransformingcenter.org/pdf/ash10.pdf

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-42574212255921394412010-02-13T18:46:00.002-05:002010-02-13T18:48:24.850-05:00

OK, so is this pathetic or what? In previous posts, I have asked amateur psychologist A-Town readers to refrain from offering diagnoses, analyses and/or prognoses about my seemingly strange thoughts, dreams or habits. Today, however, I’m actually curious to know what people think this means—here goes: On most major and minor holidays, I want the world to myself. OK, not necessarily the

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-68401201667402743742010-02-12T09:21:00.003-05:002010-02-12T09:41:31.936-05:00

Well, there’s nothing like a crisis to get a body moving on a long-postponed project. The mountains of papers awaiting my sorting services in the attic got their first visit in many months when we had to try and track down our van title last evening. Yes, The Van. It finally hit the fritz. This, after enduring (and financing) its multitudinous ailments in the few years we’ve owned the vehicle. I

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-25189450918338225792010-02-08T10:51:00.003-05:002010-02-08T19:30:14.187-05:00

Monday morning—Gah! What to do first? Wash clothes? Watch out for the black hairy dime-sized spider Will said he saw scampering around the machine. Sweep floors? The crumbs accumulate with astonishing alacrity, along with tiny toys, paper scraps, unmatched socks and Barbie clothes that seldom cover the dolls’ unrealistic body parts but often end up in the laundry, adding to the already

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-6778109777114236062010-02-07T15:52:00.002-05:002010-02-07T15:56:00.521-05:00

Dear Sunny Sunday,You are cold but beautifuland deliciously sluggish.I am cheered by your brilliance,calmed by your slowness,satisfied by your fullness—not hurried and harangued,nor stressed, pressed, and “duressed”from so many sides—but freed to breathe…and sigh…and wait,for nothing in particular.(What “Super Bowl”?)

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-28055624485082816652010-02-01T07:43:00.003-05:002010-02-01T13:10:43.481-05:00

Sleep seems somehow thicker On a Sunday afternoon When the world awaits, Upon my waking, Not with work, But with more blessed rest.

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-47115646542328652182010-01-28T21:32:00.003-05:002010-01-29T06:59:40.698-05:00

“Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,” right? Well, I was flat-out flattered when my fellow blogger Barb (also an A-Town native) copied my “Preferences” post at The Jester’s Needle last week. So this week, I’m gonna copy her copying idea by mimicking this list from Parton Ponderings, a blog by another A-Town original, Rachel. (By the by, relating to my “Small Town Stuff” post, Rachel is a

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-46729445683023889342010-01-28T07:43:00.001-05:002010-01-28T07:45:11.943-05:00

From Garrison Keillor's Writer's Almanac this morning. (Thanks to my friend Leena for alerting me.)Small Townby Philip BoothYou know.The light on upstairsbefore four every morning. The manasleep every night before eight.What programs they watch. Whotraded cars, what keeps the townmoving.The town knows. Youknow. You've known for years overdrugstore coffee. Who hurts, wholoves.Why, today, in the

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-2876317994647027412010-01-25T13:42:00.003-05:002010-01-25T13:47:18.884-05:00

Twenty-one years ago, I played the part of Pepper (sounds like “picked a peck of pickled Peppers”) in the A-Town H.S. production of the musical Annie. Twenty years ago, I played third horn in the All-County Band. Two decades later (and 2 nights ago), I took Vi and friend to see Annie at my alma mater Roberts Wesleyan (where playing horn in the Wind Ensemble was among the highlights of my college

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-47496435073007692172010-01-18T21:21:00.002-05:002010-01-18T21:23:58.392-05:00

Karin would not have let this happen! I allowed the first anniversary of Life in A-Town (January 15th) flit by with no notice whatever. My cousin, in whose memory and honor I began this blog, was a record keeper and datebook historian of the highest order. She remembered significant occasions of so many kinds…and of varying significance: birthdays and wedding anniversaries (of course), but also

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-89948617741749983822010-01-16T16:25:00.001-05:002010-01-16T16:28:04.096-05:00

Further speculation about how other people live and think… I realize I risk sounding like a fuddy-duddy for saying this, but I miss the days when I knew most of my friends’ phone numbers by heart. I just knew them, you know—in my noggin. Nowadays, since so many people have cell phones (and home phones…or just cell phones…but they might change plans and numbers every couple-few years), I just can

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-20492980982372175632010-01-14T20:59:00.002-05:002010-01-14T21:04:54.727-05:00

Morning to night Lamps to overhead lights Cinnamon toothpaste to mint Cardigans to pullovers Brass instruments to woodwinds SmartWool socks to any other kind Coffee to tea (except during pregnancy) Facebook to Twitter (maybe because I don’t text?) Hot cereal to cold (I especially like steel-cut oatmeal—it’s well worth the time and trouble.) Used cars to new (takes the pressure off)

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-53356778490850666952010-01-09T09:01:00.002-05:002010-01-10T12:45:04.442-05:00

Human creatures are such studies in contradiction. For example, me. When it comes to words, I’m pretty particular. I try very hard not to be a pedantic snob, mind you, but I do notice when people misspeak. And typos pop off the page at me, on everything from church bulletins to The Wall Street Journal (just spotted one yesterday in WSJ). However, when it comes to so many other little things in

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-31032050195819500552010-01-04T17:17:00.008-05:002010-01-04T19:57:51.057-05:00

Getting my teeth cleaned, checked for cavities, and cleared for another 6 months sans drilling-n-filling.Watching my 4-year-old pixy Pearl get her teeth cleaned, sporting shades to block the hygienist’s light, and rinsing like a big girl.Coming home moments before the Sears truck arrived to deliver our new clothes dryer. Hanging wet clothes in a dim basement for one week in the bleak midwinter

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-25843253724425745802010-01-03T20:09:00.003-05:002010-01-04T18:57:15.617-05:00

Now that the news is out, I feel like I can write again. Keeping secrets is something I can do, but not without angst. And angst squelches creativity for me—unless, of course, I can tackle the problem with my proverbial pen. But in this case, I felt compelled to keep quiet, so I found it difficult to say much of anything in this public venue. Now, about Christmas….. I failed to mention that our

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7879255001734988435.post-13341682794178554332010-01-01T19:18:00.004-05:002010-01-01T19:27:46.875-05:00

A week and a day ago this vacation stretched out before me like an open road of adventures in good housekeeping. I had grand plans for scrubbing the kitchen floor, folding baskets-full of unmatched socks, sorting and shredding paperwork dating back to 1996, stacked in banker’s boxes in the attic..... And what have I done?Well, there was Christmas, of course – the frenzy of wrapping, packing,

MGBRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15307897102167463086noreply@blogger.com13