My two little ones brought home school pictures today...they were truly awful...I told them they were MUCH PRETTIER than the pictures showed, and they ARE!
We decided to get my camera out and take some shots of their true beauty.
Walking the Tight Rope in Clown Shoes with Angie B...
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Ah, October 3rd and the weather is wonderful. I am sitting in a chair in the yard. My hands are kinda cold. It is a blessing to have just a tiny relief from the heat of this summer. I have mentioned before how I love fall. I am not a Halloween fan but I do love pumpkins and apples and dressing up. Last year Felicity announced that she was going to be a cupcake for Halloween. As any mom of such a cutie pie would do I got to work...I started Googling cupcake costumes and before I knew it was buying polar fleece and felt. I found some foam that was in a strip that looked a good bit like the cup part if the cupcake...it was even the right color! I attached the pink polar fleece and cut out flannel "sprinkles". I had to work with some ribbon to make suspenders to hold the cupcake to the kid but when all was adjusted it worked pretty well. I couldn't find any pictures of it although I'm sure we took some. We still have the costume if any little tike friends want to go as a cupcake this year. Lissy refused to let me chunk it.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
few pages of my work of fiction
If Bartley Copeland ever got in a tizzy about anything, nobody knew it. He was about the easiest man to get along with the world had seen since Jesus. He was friendly yet reserved, generous to a fault, he served on the school board, coached little league for years, held fund raisers for orphanages in Africa and gave to every cause known to man. He could not pass up the opportunity to contribute to any mission he ever heard of, he said it was personal. He took home strays, not animals, people. There was never any way of knowing who or how many would be eating at the Copeland‘s dinner table. His wife never said a word, she asked him once if he could give her a little notice, this was after he came home with his truck loaded with a bunch of church kids whose fifteen passenger van overheated on the interstate. They ate everything in the pantry that night, and what they didn‘t consume there was boxed up and sent with them to Mexico. Bartley loaded them back in his truck and took them to the auto shop to pick up their van. The young minister cried when Bartley paid the bill.
He was a man envied by men and admired by women. Everyone knew EmmaJean from way back too. She had not grown up in Opal Hills but something about it was born in her. She was probably as well liked as Bartley but for extremely different reasons. She was a never ending source of entertainment. The two of them were opposite in personality. No one ever accused her of being reserved. If she liked you it was obvious but if she loved you she might just knock you down with her enthusiasm. They may have been different from the start but they complimented each other like oil and vinegar.
Theirs was a marriage few understood but everyone wished they had.
This is their story~
He was a native to Opal Hills where the Copeland name was synonymous with big money. His great granddaddy invented some little part that proved valuable to NASA, they in turn bought the patent for a nice round sum. Granddaddy Copeland invested in plastics and the rest was history. The Copelands bought up the better part of an entire county and went about putting their wealth to work for them. Bartley didn’t enjoy hearing about his family history. He was something of a societal dropout in the sixties and felt the need to hitch-hike to California. His father sent the state troopers after him when they found out what he was attempting. They brought him back home and after a week of negotiations Jacob A. Copeland Jr, built his son a place he could call his own.
It was the nicest commune known to man.
He let Bartley “live off the land” in a collection of mobile homes, complete with redwood porches and the help of several hired caretakers. Bartley invited friends to come out and live on his communal farm in the middle of nowhere. It wasn’t California but it was close enough for Bartley. He painted peace signs on the barn and planted marijuana in the garden right next to the tomatoes. In all Bartley (or in reality, his dad) provided homes for twenty or more hippies in the couple of years he had his commune. But when Uncle Sam showed up at the Copeland’s big estate with a draft notice everyone else was given their walking papers. Jacob turned the commune into “Happy Acres Trailer Park”, an idea he had been throwing around anyway. There was nothing the Copeland money could do to prevent their youngest son from being shipped off to Vietnam. His mama cried and hoped her baby would come home alive, Jacob hoped he would come back a grown man. They both got their wishes.
When Bartley stepped off the plane in Atlanta on a balmy September afternoon there was an entourage to meet him. He smiled and looked embarrassed as he waved to his family and most of his hometown. He wondered if his daddy had given them all the day off and a day’s wages to come meet him. Of course he had, but Bartley’s safe return was cause for a holiday.
His brother Alan and his wife Cindy were there with their two girls. Jacob the third was there with his new girlfriend of the month. His younger sister , Maria brought a girlfriend from college. The little redhead caught his eye and for a minute he thought he knew her. Naturally, Willa Copeland was first to reach her baby and would not let him go. She cried and laughed and pulled a tissue out of her pocket then hugged him again, this continued with everyone around laughing along until she had to push him away to look at his face. She couldn’t help but notice he was different. He looked older, wiser, but sweeter at the same time. When he made his way to Maria he squeezed her tight and whispered, “I’ve missed you….who is the girl in the purple skirt?” Maria laughed and said, “She is YOUR match….you like her?” Bartley laughed, “Yeah, but do I know her?” Maria assured him he had never met anyone even close to that little fireball.
After the mob made it’s way back to Opal Hills there was a celebration in the park downtown. The women’s auxiliary held a picnic in honor of all the veterans of foreign wars with Bartley as the guest of honor. After a tour of duty in the jungles of Southeast Asia he was just glad to be anywhere. There was a time he thought he would never make it back to friendly soil. He was a changed person. He went away a spoiled boy and came home thankful to God for the privilege to live. He loved everything about his home. He closed his eyes and just breathed deep. He loved the smell of the hot pavement, the kudzu blooms behind the courthouse, the chicken frying at the Chick-n- Shack. He listened to the chatter and the music playing in the distance. He was the happiest man alive. He never wanted to leave Opal Hills again.
Maria and her friend pulled up in her new black Corvette. Bartley noticed the redhead again, this time with a warm smile. She smiled back and their eyes locked for just a second. EmmaJean looked away. Maria had changed into bellbottom jeans and a peasant top, EmmaJean still had on her purple skirt and a tie-dyed t-shirt with flip-flops from a discount store. It was clear this girl wore what she wanted, where she wanted. Bartley liked that. Maria introduced her friend to her brother. After she spoke her voice faded and she wandered down the street to where a snow cone stand was being set up. She turned expecting EmmaJean to be following her but just shook her head when she saw the two of them. I knew it, she thought. Those two were meant for each other.
“So EmmaJean, how’d you link up with the likes of my little sister?” Bartley tried not to stare.
“We are suitemates at school” EmmaJean did not want to talk about Maria.
“So, how’d she wrangle you into coming to this shindig?” EmmaJean wanted to tell him the truth, she had seen a picture of him with Maria and thought he was the most beautiful boy she had ever seen.
“Oh, she said there’d be barbeque and beer, I thought that sounded fun”. She tried not to look in his eyes. She was sure he would read her mind.
“Well, I’m glad she could offer something interesting for you to do for a couple of days.” There it was again, that smile he saw when he first noticed her. The wind lifted her cotton skirt and it floated up just a little. Bartley couldn’t help but notice her legs, she looked really athletic but was a tiny little thing. She smelled like Lavender. Bartley decided then and there he loved Lavender.
He was a man envied by men and admired by women. Everyone knew EmmaJean from way back too. She had not grown up in Opal Hills but something about it was born in her. She was probably as well liked as Bartley but for extremely different reasons. She was a never ending source of entertainment. The two of them were opposite in personality. No one ever accused her of being reserved. If she liked you it was obvious but if she loved you she might just knock you down with her enthusiasm. They may have been different from the start but they complimented each other like oil and vinegar.
Theirs was a marriage few understood but everyone wished they had.
This is their story~
He was a native to Opal Hills where the Copeland name was synonymous with big money. His great granddaddy invented some little part that proved valuable to NASA, they in turn bought the patent for a nice round sum. Granddaddy Copeland invested in plastics and the rest was history. The Copelands bought up the better part of an entire county and went about putting their wealth to work for them. Bartley didn’t enjoy hearing about his family history. He was something of a societal dropout in the sixties and felt the need to hitch-hike to California. His father sent the state troopers after him when they found out what he was attempting. They brought him back home and after a week of negotiations Jacob A. Copeland Jr, built his son a place he could call his own.
It was the nicest commune known to man.
He let Bartley “live off the land” in a collection of mobile homes, complete with redwood porches and the help of several hired caretakers. Bartley invited friends to come out and live on his communal farm in the middle of nowhere. It wasn’t California but it was close enough for Bartley. He painted peace signs on the barn and planted marijuana in the garden right next to the tomatoes. In all Bartley (or in reality, his dad) provided homes for twenty or more hippies in the couple of years he had his commune. But when Uncle Sam showed up at the Copeland’s big estate with a draft notice everyone else was given their walking papers. Jacob turned the commune into “Happy Acres Trailer Park”, an idea he had been throwing around anyway. There was nothing the Copeland money could do to prevent their youngest son from being shipped off to Vietnam. His mama cried and hoped her baby would come home alive, Jacob hoped he would come back a grown man. They both got their wishes.
When Bartley stepped off the plane in Atlanta on a balmy September afternoon there was an entourage to meet him. He smiled and looked embarrassed as he waved to his family and most of his hometown. He wondered if his daddy had given them all the day off and a day’s wages to come meet him. Of course he had, but Bartley’s safe return was cause for a holiday.
His brother Alan and his wife Cindy were there with their two girls. Jacob the third was there with his new girlfriend of the month. His younger sister , Maria brought a girlfriend from college. The little redhead caught his eye and for a minute he thought he knew her. Naturally, Willa Copeland was first to reach her baby and would not let him go. She cried and laughed and pulled a tissue out of her pocket then hugged him again, this continued with everyone around laughing along until she had to push him away to look at his face. She couldn’t help but notice he was different. He looked older, wiser, but sweeter at the same time. When he made his way to Maria he squeezed her tight and whispered, “I’ve missed you….who is the girl in the purple skirt?” Maria laughed and said, “She is YOUR match….you like her?” Bartley laughed, “Yeah, but do I know her?” Maria assured him he had never met anyone even close to that little fireball.
After the mob made it’s way back to Opal Hills there was a celebration in the park downtown. The women’s auxiliary held a picnic in honor of all the veterans of foreign wars with Bartley as the guest of honor. After a tour of duty in the jungles of Southeast Asia he was just glad to be anywhere. There was a time he thought he would never make it back to friendly soil. He was a changed person. He went away a spoiled boy and came home thankful to God for the privilege to live. He loved everything about his home. He closed his eyes and just breathed deep. He loved the smell of the hot pavement, the kudzu blooms behind the courthouse, the chicken frying at the Chick-n- Shack. He listened to the chatter and the music playing in the distance. He was the happiest man alive. He never wanted to leave Opal Hills again.
Maria and her friend pulled up in her new black Corvette. Bartley noticed the redhead again, this time with a warm smile. She smiled back and their eyes locked for just a second. EmmaJean looked away. Maria had changed into bellbottom jeans and a peasant top, EmmaJean still had on her purple skirt and a tie-dyed t-shirt with flip-flops from a discount store. It was clear this girl wore what she wanted, where she wanted. Bartley liked that. Maria introduced her friend to her brother. After she spoke her voice faded and she wandered down the street to where a snow cone stand was being set up. She turned expecting EmmaJean to be following her but just shook her head when she saw the two of them. I knew it, she thought. Those two were meant for each other.
“So EmmaJean, how’d you link up with the likes of my little sister?” Bartley tried not to stare.
“We are suitemates at school” EmmaJean did not want to talk about Maria.
“So, how’d she wrangle you into coming to this shindig?” EmmaJean wanted to tell him the truth, she had seen a picture of him with Maria and thought he was the most beautiful boy she had ever seen.
“Oh, she said there’d be barbeque and beer, I thought that sounded fun”. She tried not to look in his eyes. She was sure he would read her mind.
“Well, I’m glad she could offer something interesting for you to do for a couple of days.” There it was again, that smile he saw when he first noticed her. The wind lifted her cotton skirt and it floated up just a little. Bartley couldn’t help but notice her legs, she looked really athletic but was a tiny little thing. She smelled like Lavender. Bartley decided then and there he loved Lavender.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Today was a mix of rain and sun. We only got out to get ice cream. The girls and I made collages out of magazines and poster board. It was pretty fun. Elle stayed at it for a long time. She cut out tiny little things. We made a mess but what's new about that? Tomorrow, I am going to attempt to make charm bracelets using crochet! We saw something like it while we were cutting out pictures and words from the magazines. I will try to post pictures later.
Friday, August 27, 2010
I am in a mood....a bad one. I was accused of saying something that I did not mean....or maybe I should say I was accused of "implying" something I did not mean.
Why are humans so complicated?
I feel like Harper Lee has the right idea sometimes. It is hard to have your feelings out there, to have an outspoken personality, to root for the underdog and be misunderstood.
I feel that the person who insisted that I "implied" something was really the person in the wrong. I of course, being the known hot-head I feel that I should apologize...but, I was taken totally off guard and then snapped at in front of a bunch of other people. I think the person in question thought I was calling him a liar, when in fact I was not. By saying he was sure I implied what he thought I did he was calling me one.
Now, isn't that nice.
I don't know how to fix this...I supposed I could write it all down and mail it.
But, would it matter?
I am tired.
I have a headache.
If this person only knew I have defended him before to people who think he is smug or cold. I know these things are not true! I always tell people he's a great guy with a hard job.
Today, he misunderstood me.
I get what they are saying.
He certainly seemed smug,
he was RIGHT in his own eyes and defended someone neither of us really know.
I'm sure if he had done anything different we would have witnessed the whole universe spin out of control.
Anyway, I'm not in a very good mood.
I suppose I'll get over it.
I just don't like being told that I meant something I absolutely did not.
Brooding isn't much fun either.
I thought blogging might help.
It didn't....I'm going into seclusion.
For the record...this is not about my husband.
Why are humans so complicated?
I feel like Harper Lee has the right idea sometimes. It is hard to have your feelings out there, to have an outspoken personality, to root for the underdog and be misunderstood.
I feel that the person who insisted that I "implied" something was really the person in the wrong. I of course, being the known hot-head I feel that I should apologize...but, I was taken totally off guard and then snapped at in front of a bunch of other people. I think the person in question thought I was calling him a liar, when in fact I was not. By saying he was sure I implied what he thought I did he was calling me one.
Now, isn't that nice.
I don't know how to fix this...I supposed I could write it all down and mail it.
But, would it matter?
I am tired.
I have a headache.
If this person only knew I have defended him before to people who think he is smug or cold. I know these things are not true! I always tell people he's a great guy with a hard job.
Today, he misunderstood me.
I get what they are saying.
He certainly seemed smug,
he was RIGHT in his own eyes and defended someone neither of us really know.
I'm sure if he had done anything different we would have witnessed the whole universe spin out of control.
Anyway, I'm not in a very good mood.
I suppose I'll get over it.
I just don't like being told that I meant something I absolutely did not.
Brooding isn't much fun either.
I thought blogging might help.
It didn't....I'm going into seclusion.
For the record...this is not about my husband.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Sunday, August 8, 2010
SCHOOL!
I am so happy to see school start. Don't get me wrong...I love my family but the thought of sending them ALL to school tomorrow makes me smile. I will be just as excited when they all get out for Thanksgiving and Christmas, Spring Break and Summer. It is simply a ritual. The beginning of something...getting into a routine, I find comfort in the thought of both. My problem usually begins when the wheels come off of the routine cart about a month into it. When I haven't got what we need for lunches and the homework is starting to be a little overwhelming...someone has lost her planner or papers or backpack. Someone else has decided she doesn't like school and refuses to admit she has homework. This is when the routine becomes un-fun.
We have an unusual situation this year. We have one child starting kindergarten and another graduating from high school. This beginning and ending is all part of life. Having seven children and now three grandchildren we are going to be celebrating graduations and first years for a long time. It is bittersweet, I am sad to see my older son look at life beyond this bird cage he has lived in for the last 18 years. He feels the cool metal of the cage door under his feet, I can already hear the lonely squeak when he leaves it open for his brother to fly out to join him just a year after. He will have stories to tell by then, of the great big sky and all that awaits them there. What will I do then? The routine will certainly change. We will still have much work to do; three more little girls.
With kindergarten comes a new beginning, it seems like yesterday I dropped the oldest off and assured myself I had done the right thing. She would be okay...which, she was. It gets easier to let them go I suppose. It is easier to be excited about this last little darling who thinks she rules the world. Our caseworker told us we were creating a monster with her because she is so socially intuitive. I hope her teacher has a heart of gold and nerves of steel. She will surely need both. She has grown so much. They all have. It is hard to believe I will be sixty-three when she graduates, twentyone years after her oldest sister. All this mothering has taught me a thing or two but I realize this is a journey to enjoy not to wish away. I can dread the future or relax and know that God is already there. It is his provision and sustainance that keeps me breathing. I can no more raise kids than make the sun shine. It is fruitless to say my daughters turned out well because of anything I did or didn't do. It is also not my effort that is shaping my boys into men. I just don't know how to do that...neither does their daddy who is a great man and shaper of people. It is the fact that we know God has them that gives us peace. It will be his voice in their ears and his hand on their backs when the going gets tough, and I suspect it will get tough. They will turn out to be good men because before they were born I asked God to just let me borrow them. It is all his business.
So as the bells ring tomorrow and everyone goes to his assigned seat I will pray, for the teachers, for the principals, the counselors, the lunchroom ladies, the aides and most especially for the children; my children and yours, who keep us going and keep us young.
Now, I have a few sandwiches to make.
We have an unusual situation this year. We have one child starting kindergarten and another graduating from high school. This beginning and ending is all part of life. Having seven children and now three grandchildren we are going to be celebrating graduations and first years for a long time. It is bittersweet, I am sad to see my older son look at life beyond this bird cage he has lived in for the last 18 years. He feels the cool metal of the cage door under his feet, I can already hear the lonely squeak when he leaves it open for his brother to fly out to join him just a year after. He will have stories to tell by then, of the great big sky and all that awaits them there. What will I do then? The routine will certainly change. We will still have much work to do; three more little girls.
With kindergarten comes a new beginning, it seems like yesterday I dropped the oldest off and assured myself I had done the right thing. She would be okay...which, she was. It gets easier to let them go I suppose. It is easier to be excited about this last little darling who thinks she rules the world. Our caseworker told us we were creating a monster with her because she is so socially intuitive. I hope her teacher has a heart of gold and nerves of steel. She will surely need both. She has grown so much. They all have. It is hard to believe I will be sixty-three when she graduates, twentyone years after her oldest sister. All this mothering has taught me a thing or two but I realize this is a journey to enjoy not to wish away. I can dread the future or relax and know that God is already there. It is his provision and sustainance that keeps me breathing. I can no more raise kids than make the sun shine. It is fruitless to say my daughters turned out well because of anything I did or didn't do. It is also not my effort that is shaping my boys into men. I just don't know how to do that...neither does their daddy who is a great man and shaper of people. It is the fact that we know God has them that gives us peace. It will be his voice in their ears and his hand on their backs when the going gets tough, and I suspect it will get tough. They will turn out to be good men because before they were born I asked God to just let me borrow them. It is all his business.
So as the bells ring tomorrow and everyone goes to his assigned seat I will pray, for the teachers, for the principals, the counselors, the lunchroom ladies, the aides and most especially for the children; my children and yours, who keep us going and keep us young.
Now, I have a few sandwiches to make.
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