Sunny Summer Reading List Unread

The Midwest has been uncharacteristically cool thus far.  Today, it is in the 60's.  We had merely a week with 80 degree temperature.  The weather is pleasant, and punctuated by increasing numbers of mosquitos after frequent rain.  A few scattered sunny days have helped us recognize summer, somewhat. However, the lack of sun this summer in the Midwest has been discouraging in many ways.

1) Sunny days are the very definition of summer: warm, glowing, happy.

2) Sunny days means more water play: when it is hot one must cool off.

3)Sunny days means less clothing and more tan skins.  Tan skin = happy face (literally, I don't look as pale and sickly, the undertones in my skin were made for tanning)

4) Sunny days means more time away from the house that is never tidy during summer break because kids live in it full-time.  More time away from the house means less guilt for the lazy housewife who could never dream of keeping up with the entropy that travels in company with children.

5) Sunny days means kids are happy to be wet, in water, and I am happy sitting with a book reading, glancing over the top of the pages to make sure all head are accounted for above water.


No sun = no fun AND longer reading lists that are NOT getting shorter.

I stock piled books that I know I need to read for my thesis and looked forward to reading them lakeside on many a sunny day.  Only one has made it away from the shelf, a couple of others have gone for a few walks, but mostly, they sit also waiting for more sunny days this summer. 

I just cleaned that place up!

Mother nature should really know better than to do a sister such a dis-service.

BEFORE

AFTER

 I enjoy doing yard work - that is, yard work of my own creation.  I have enjoyed creating several new flower beds in my yard this year; thinning out bulbs and planting new ones.  I love the park-esque feel of our yard with large green spaces and shaded tree areas.  The kids can play baseball, soccer, frisbee, whatever they like while I enjoy digging in the dirt.

I love watching them play on the well manicured lawn, and yes, I take much longer mowing the lawn than needed. It is not bad to leave the clippings in the grass but I do not like the grass sticking to their feet and coming inside. Plus, the more I mulch the greener.  May be a bit OCD about yard work.

I spent several hours getting rocks out of this front bed more as a therapeutic measure to avoid depression than an actual need to be meticulous.

 The beginning of this summer in Indiana has been wet and windy.  Wet and windy.  I have come to understand this is Nature's way of pruning the trees and topping the really big ones.  I just do not appreciate the messes in my yard.

Saturday morning Danny wakes me with "there is a lot of wind Mom.  And there is a tree on our trampoline."

We left all the branches and trees on the ground Saturday because it was so soggy outside after torrential rains and Josh needed to help de-flood the basement at our rental.  We hoped for sun in the next few days.

Sunday was sunny, and with rain in the forecast for Monday, we got our 'ox out of the mire' while we could and clipped and hauled branches away.  Josh was having trouble with his chainsaw, perhaps a curse of trying to work on the sabbath, so we just stripped the tree to it's bareness. 

Tramp frame is bent, but the mat is not ripped.  We'll have to figure out how much to invest in fixing that. 

 We got it cleaned up. We figured out the *obvious* problem with Josh's chain saw on Monday and set to work beneath threatening skies. All the logs are stacked tidily outdoors.  It is raining again today. I keep waiting for summer to come.  I think I will protest doing any more yard work until lit does come.  I already have issue with with all the eternal messes I have to clean up with kids being home all day, much less adding 'nature' to the mix; I'm just not that ambitious.

The kitchen was clean when I went to bed, but the time I got down to the kitchen the next morning - it had been attacked by the other 4 people in this home and left for me.  So very thoughtful.  

Cain Theory

As a parent, I have been considering what I will call today the "Cain Theory."

Having been raised on a scripture foundation, the analogies of my parenting strife today are rife with accounts of Laman, Lemuel, Cain, Lucifer and the other biblical black sheep of the family.  For doesn't every family have one?  Or are they only considered the black sheep in comparison with their fairer siblings?  I'm not talking color of skin only here - although scripture and our family are rife with that pigmented contrast - I'm talking of the inevitability in a family with more than one child that one of them is comparatively naughtier than the rest.

What bothers me about my 'Cain Theory' as of yet is that I have no empirical evidence to show me statistically how many families feel like there is one child that is 'naughtier' than the rest, the black sheep.  I'm not just talking about ideologically different today, I'm talking of the one who was hardest to parent because they, well, were just bad somehow.  I have been considering this morning if this is a foster parenting problem or a universal parenting problem.  That's how it got to be the "Cain Theory."

Look, Cain and Abel, and all the rest of the start of the human family, all came from the same parents.  From the record we are given it is safe to assume that Adam and Eve were really great parents.  They taught all their children the laws of God.  They taught them all to garden, for it was in the garden that Cain got his ultimate revenge or punishment however you see it.  This morning it was in the garden that I watched one of my children exact her revenge on the world, one cucumber plant at a time.

As part of my personal parenting philosophy I will not give my child enough space to blame Satan for their actions (in fact, I don't know if Lucifer just wasn't painted as a devil until he was compared against Jesus but that is a deeper theological debate than is needed for the day).  I do believe there is opposition in all things, including our choice of how we use natural emotions.  It would be silly to deny that we all feel and that some of those feelings are negative.  Anger is real.  Frustration and fatigue are very real.  Just as real as love and joy and compassion.  Agency, which is told to be the greatest gift of God to His children (Christ's sacrifice was His own great gift) allows us to experience emotions in all their colors and make a choice as to how they will guide our lives.  To some degree, for at least a reasonable 8-18 years, parents have the obligation to guide the choice of actions based on feelings.  That is part of what parenting is right - teaching your children the 'appropriate' way to behave when under the duress of natural life.

It seems too easily metaphorical in the bible that Satan or his angels popped up right in the moment when Cain was feeling anger toward his brother and let him know exactly where to put that negative feeling.  I sympathize with Cain, working hard like the rest of the family, but always feeling cast in the shadow of Abel. And we have no evidence that Abel was the perfect brother.  Perhaps he was goading on Cain that day, I've seen it enough in sibling relationships.  Even the good ones can be downright vindictive when their parents' backs are turned.  So why is it that Cain got the curse of the family? And was the curse before or after the killing?  Who's to say that Cain didn't already know that he was the bad boy of the family and was just fulfilling their expectations for him.

I'll admit it - some of us have bigger inner dragons than others and in a group setting as tight as a family, that is not seen as an asset.  Some family members can feel like a liability.  As much as we love them, we continue to ask God why he gave us this  member of the family to help us experience the binaries of life.  But then I pause.  Is any of us so bad in isolation?  If my Cain were my only child, would I really be so up in arms today about cucumber plants uprooted?  Or would I shake my head, give her a hug and tell her she was being silly.  Was the disaster only so disappointing because the other two children had angelically completed their weeding singing songs and wanting to help longer than was needed?  Biblically, would Cain have been such a big deal had there been no Abel?

Despite my theory, there is still parenting to be done.  Principles of work, love, respect, and self-worth that will have to be gaged with or without the comparisons.  The point, I think, is to stop and think about how 'bad' any of us really are.  If the dragon of revenge wants to wield it's way through my garden and rip out one innocent plant after another, I shall be grateful that today she is only 7 years old and that there is still time to plant again.  Maybe Cain had ripped out a few plants prior to sinking a knife into his brother.  I don't know.  I just feel like today I have a bit more mercy for all those siblings who got painted black before really knowing that there had to be any comparison.

Squish, squeeze,...POP!

Today I feel like a pimple on Life's face.  I am irritated, agitated around the edges, and ready to pop.  I find it incredibly ironic that it is now, in the quiet week, that I feel the most emotionally and mentally squeezed rather than during the tumult of end of term projects.  Do I thrive under pressure? Or, do I have a hard time being alone with my thoughts?

I feel as though the emotional work that I have been doing over the past four months both with and through my academic work was what they describe in academic methodology "squishy."  The boundaries that once seemed so firm and constrictive began to give way.  My own concept of my position in life became more malleable as I began to poke at some of my core beliefs about myself.  I took it all in small doses as my life continued to run on around me, which may have been a saving grace.  Now, the race over, I am trying to determine how much squishy = messy.

I find now, with hours of open time to myself that I don't quite understand what "productive" is.  I feel merit in finally just relaxing and breathing; yet as I slow down, I start to go down.  I know depression.  I have spent plenty enough time with it as a house guest in the past that I can recognize it coming up the drive.  I liked the constant pressure of time - squeezing every bit of usefulness out of time.  I made sure to squeeze in time for myself in the midst of it all, but never felt such a victim of time now that I have too much of it.  Josh likes to use the phrase "playing the victim" which perhaps I am this week.  It is Wednesday this week and I am a victim to lost time.  Non-regimented time.  What stresses me most is not deadlines, it is dead time.

In this emotionally vunerable white space that I am experiencing I am ready to burst.  I probably shouldn't take the pimple analogy too far, you can imagine for yourself the white antibodies gathering around the foreign emotions inside of me that are pushing against the surface.  Ready.  So ready with any little bit of prodding to release the pressure.  To pop.  Be careful world, this may all just be a result of fluctuating hormones - but being a pimple is not pleasant.

Making our own history

I am glad for the small moments that remind me to take stock of how far we have progressed.  Two projects have been turning my head around and around the concept of making history:

1- Our kids are working on their "personal history" unit at school.  For 1st years (Danny and Viv) they have to bring in photos with descriptions to make a timeline of their life thus far.  Due to the giant hard drive crash of 2013, I have to search through this blog to find photos of the kiddos from 2011-2013.  It reminds me again, that I need to print this thing out so the kids and I can read through those small vignettes that I had wisdom and energy enough to record.  It does go quickly, and I don't remember it all.  Jill and I were talking about the memory processes of small children - only remembering based on photos - I feel I am the same way.  It seems that if it weren't for textual remnants of the past, I might just forget it.  Faith's personal history project is working on a family tree, which is precisely what we are always working on.


2- I have been continuing the archival research for Alonzo Price Bowman through this semester as part of my course work.  I have been developing projects around the historical timeline of his life.  Turns out, Grandpa Alonzo lived through some of the big markers of American History.  The first wave of the project was to create a fully public domain multi-media presentation.  I tracked the first 20 years of Grandpa's life, and here are the highlights:

I just proposed the final project for Grandpa's Life which will include a rhetorical framework to show how it is the small lives that weave into the big histories without which the fibers of our nation would unravel (oh how poetic).

Not since January???

Wowzers! that has been a hiatus.  I have returned in order to keep up my writing skills and catalogue all the mega amazing things (and some crummy) that happen in our family for our own history purposes.  So....where to start since January?

January-April we had some super cool house buddies: my favorite hair dresser and her two kiddos were hanging in our basement while some legal stuff was clearing,

It was a blast to have the Goose in the house for everyone to remember what it was like having little people around.  She learned to walk when the first moved in and was running around by the time they left.  Super fun.

Most of January was spent hanging at home and enjoying A LOT of snow days.  Josh even got snowed in from work one of the days.  Even though the snow was nothing to an Idahoan, they don't have the plow power to get the streets scrapped.  Lucky that somebody (me) had the forethought to insist that we have an all wheel drive vehicle so Josh could get to work.During the Olympics (because we watched as much of the olympics as possible thanks to the following two projects and A LOT of snow days) Josh helped me finish the mega-family tree project I had started in October with the kids.  I had the additional impetus of using this project for one of my graduate courses.

The other winter time project was a totally hand stitched quilt that I was working on with the Oak Farm middle school.  I was on the committee for the annual Gala fundraiser and volunteered to be a helper with 3 classrooms for their class made projects.  The middle school project was by far the most intensive, but all three kept me busy.  With the snow days, which were A LOT, I didn't have as many days with the students to do the stitching so I brought it home and let everybody have a go at quilting.  The pattern was up-cycled fabrics from the students that they designed in a pixeled tree in all four seasons.  I thought it was awesome and turned out beautiful! The batting was the wool form the sheep on the farm that the middle school students take care of and sheer and everything.  I really like the project, but those last few days before the Gala auction were gruesome!  Thanks to all our housemates for pitching in (we were not looking for skill since it was a 'student project' so I could coerce anyone into stitching).  It earned $750 at the auction.  The other projects I helped with/made, chess set and throw pillows, made about $1000.  I felt good about my contribution.  I certainly can't give that much money to the school, but I can give my time. 

Speaking of school: Auntie Jill came out for a weekend to do some Melaluca stuff and spent part of one day hanging with the kids in their classrooms.  She does such a fabulous job of making each one feel special.  She let Danny teach her how to add numbers to the thousands.

She let Viv teach her how to match sentences and picture illustrations.  And then she had lunch with Faith in her classroom.  The kids love bragging now that their classmates know everyone in their family; brothers, sisters, Mom, Dad and Aunt!  

 St. Patricks Day came and those sneaky leprechauns left some fun green stuff for the kiddos.  Green being Danny's favorite color, it is not surprise that he was loving his digs from the little green dudes.

 Beginning of April we got some free tickets to see our local NBA feeder basketball team, the Mad Ants.  I was super glad that we got tickets with our friends because the kiddos had their buddies there to make the game exciting.  The girls yelled "GO MAD ANTS!" in chanted rhythm for the entire 3rd quarter.  They make the games super kid friendly.  After I got over the fact that these guys are just between high school, college and real basketball players, I could settle in and enjoy the skills they had (I hated to be snooty but the last ball game I went to was Lakers vs. Jazz).

And that is how fast a recap of four months can go.  Wowzers.  Now as my focus shifts from graduate school assignments and keeping kids healthy and warm I will have the time to enjoy some more family moment keeping on the bloggo for everyone!

Life lessons from Burlington to the Book of Mormon

During our  verse-intense scripture study yesterday morning at breakfast we read "And it came to pass that the Lord said unto me; If they have not charity it mattereth not unto thee, thou has been faithful;...(Ether 12:37)"

As I stopped to define all the 'they's and 'thee's Viv paused as if making a deep connection.  This was my secret hope, that our 'mamacita' would recognize that it is a Godly principle to mind your own business.

After a longer than usual pause between breakfast bites she blurts our "Yesterday a lady at Burlington coat factory was not using charity to a grandma."  Yes, she was right.  We had unfortunately been in the kids shoe section when a very unfortunate woman decided to take out some of her agression on an innocent old lady that brushed up against her cart.  It was a very disturbing incident.  I had felt horrible all evening long just recalling what had happened, lamenting that not only the kids were in ear shot, but that I didn't think there was anything I could do but wished badly I could have changed something.

Scenario: A late 20s woman with a large cart containing a child pushes into a shoe aisle.  An older lady, later self-identified as 65, tries to exit the same aisle and bumps the cart since it is a tight fit.  Angry 20something blurts extremely loud "Whoa, you could have at least said excuse me or something!!" acting terribly injured.  The undetermined response must have been apologetic in nature for it was in a low tone and non affronting.  20something retorts "You could have done something instead of just barging past.  You touched my child!! And you don't just touch people's kids without asking!" Another quiet response in which she excused herself with a bit more of defense presumably.  The loud response was "well you need to learn how to respect people and not walk around like you own thing!!" or other likewise rude statement to which the older lady finally loses patience and retaliates "I am 65 years old you little brat! I could be your grandmother!"  I felt the same.  20something was being a complete brat.  Then 20something fumes back "Oh yeah, well you are a B**** !You lucky my gran ain't here because she would ....." At which point gratefully I had found the shoes needed with the kids and started walking away from the shoe section trying to explain to the children what an unfortunate and disrespectful interlude we had overheard. All the while still hearing 20something's declarations of perceived injustice.  

The incident did not sit well with me all evening.  Hearing such rude things and not being able to do much about it makes my heart hurt.  And apparently it affects the little people more than we understand.  The next morning, after ample evening distractions and a full night of sleep Viv recounted "That grandma called the lady a brat and that wasn't nice either. That isn't showing charity."  No, it wasn't we tried to explain, grateful in some sorts for having something real life to relate the scriptures to.  In the middle of our parental wisdom Viv bursts, "And then the lady called the grandma a B****"  Yes she did.  How unfortunate.  How did that make you feel when you heard those words? "Very sad."  So you wouldn't want to be like either of those women and create a situation where you using those words would make anyone else very sad, including your parents. "No."  We can't change what other people do, but we are affected by their choices.  That is why the Lord wants us to focus on what we are doing, to know for ourselves that we have "been faithful" in using charity the best we can.

The lesson ended with the allotted time passing and we had to get off to school.  My heart hurt again for a bit.  I don't think I could have done anything to be a positive example in that situation at Burlington for my children to see.  Although I desperately wanted to step in and defend the 65 year old woman, or at least apologize for 20something, the demeanor of 20something would have just made it more negative and there is a bit to self preservation. I was hurt just overhearing her mean words, being in the middle would have been worse and I would have lost my cool.  So all my kids heard was their conversation and their mother's dismissive comments about rude and uncharitable treatment of others in the shoe aisle.

This morning, as we reviewed the first part of verse 37 from the previous day and moved onto the rest, I felt like Moroni maybe hit the feeling spot on, although a bit haughty:
"(Lord speaking still) wherefore, they garments shall be made clean. And because thou hast seen thy weakness thou shalt be made strong, even unto the sitting down int he place which I have prepared in the mansions of my Father." The kids immediately pointed to our drawing on the wall which we have been relating to since the first of this chapter in Ether-

note that there is a seat on the right hand of God for the believers.  As we read in this part of Ether that another qualifications to fill that seat is to demonstrate charity and also have been washed clean through the Savior's atonement.  

Moroni continues his thoughts in verse 38: "And now I, Moroni, bid farewell unto the Gentiles, yea and also unto my brethren whom I love, until we shall meet before the judgement-seat of Christ, where all men shall know that my garments are not spotted with your blood."

There it was, Moroni felt it, I feel it sometimes too.  I can't be responsible for all those nasty people in the world, I just have to focus on myself and the kids.  But it does sound a little haughty don't you think that Moroni professes he will be there looking back on everyone else, with a tinge of self-righteous omnipotence knowing he is clean?  Granted he is a prophet and running away from all the bad guys on the planet who want to kill him at every minute (this is Moroni's second good-bye speech in the Book of Mormon, and not his last).  But, the picture I get feels really self-justifying; perhaps because I am putting myself in Moroni's spot and looking back at 20something.  

(obviously I have not got the whole charity thing down quite right yet)

When work is still play

October 28th, 2013

The one task of Fall outdoor clean up that never seems to be a chore; raking leaves.

Building giant piles and creating a nest all your own like never before, raking leaves.

Enjoying what nature discards and gathering the discharged from above; raking leaves.

Sounds and scents that linger in your coat as crunchy little bits bite fuzzy linings; raking leaves.

Being immersed in nature as our body's do the work that our mind hasn't yet figured out is work; raking leaves.

Trickiest Treat

Halloween 2013 was almost as tricky and a crazy treat as it was three years ago.    A fated trip to a Taco Bell on Sunday, October 31st in 2010 gave us the biggest scare ever.  Being a parent to Viv has been kinda like walking through a haunted house; it scares you around every corner, have a bit of a freak out moment, laugh and realize that what scared you wasn't that big a deal, and then you clench onto your partner and get ready for the next adventure around the corner.  Best part of it all, when you get through you are so happy that you risked it, and, AND, you had fun!

Last night was a reminder of what fun it is to be Viv's mom.  Amidst the drenching rain that plagued the trick-or-treaters and some crazy aches and pains - Viv had a clairvoyent moment when the costumes and the show was just taken off and she was her pure self.

 Because we love gymnastics and Viv would never miss a lesson if it  was left to her.  My already founded aversion to begging for candy and the poor weather made it a clear choice to keep our regular Thursday night schedule.  There were only three other people in the gym that made the same choice, and each had their coach to themselves.  AWESOME!  Viv got a one-on-one lesson for an hour and a half with her coach (at group rates) with a practically empty gym.  Talk about focus!

 The best part is how excited Viv gets as she feels that absolute mastery of her body and mind.  She gets pumped!  Her coach was amazed that she didn't get exhausted with that long session full on all by her onsies.  Nope, not Viv.  When it comes to gymnastics she has an unending store of gymnastic power.  A little power ranger in purple.  So happy, so happy with herself and that moment.

 Viv really undressed for Halloween this year and gave me one of the best treats of the week.

 Faith and Danny were hanging at home with Josh handing out some candies to the soaked and shivering few that were trying to enjoy the holiday.  The kids liked playing with Daddy and in the end were so happy they were warm and building with magnets.

As for the traditional, "where's the extra cute costumes?' Post for Halloween?  We had a Church trunk-or-treat on Saturday and managed to have all the kids in costume long enough to pilfer candy off of good Christian people sitting in the back of their car.  That was all the more candy I wanted in the house anyway.

Ever since reading "Mummies in the Morning" book #4 of the Magic Tree House series he wanted to be a Mummy, until we read book #5 just last week and he started think about maybe being a ninja.  So when we got him all wrapped up he was a bit moody and upset that it was difficult to walk and that you could see some flesh.  With a bit of foresight Josh and I brought along a backup costume for the trunk-or-treat and sure enough he was Captain America before the night was out.  It was a cool costume while it lasted!

Viv wanted to be a fairy queen. A what? A Dairy Queen?  Fairy, but Josh had a good time teasing her about it.  It was fun doing the makeup but then the dress we ended up having to borrow didn't work it into colors...she was just so pleased with having been primped and painted.

Faith was specific this year.  She was Glinda the Good Witch.  She loves characters and love being the bubble witch.

Josh and I went as Buddy Holly and a Bond Girl, both circa 1960, here you only catch Josh's baby blue suit that her really only put on for me.  He loves me.

Sarcasm, bleh!

The world of sarcasm is really starting to rub me wrong.

I have long thought that sarcasm is the less witty version of humor that has evolved out of bitter society and lack of punny things to say.  That may be rooted in lack of education or just being lackadaisical.  Either way, the predominance of sarcasm from the junior high "just kidding" to frankly just over characterizing others in a negative light, all in the ruse of making a sarcastic statement (purportedly humorous) is RUDE.

Sadly, I do admit that I laugh at others expense all the time.  And, some people that are the genuine artifact of dry sarcasm are some of my favorite people.  But, here I am on the end (in a very global not-directly-connected-way) of a sarcastic jibe and I am upset.  Not only that, but after reading a plethora of sarcasm yesterday my spunky optimism was a bit shaken.  RUDE people.

Just goes to show that not everything popular is praiseworthy.

Cheering us on

I feel as though I am not a very consistent person, but I have consistent desires to be one of those people.  Writing falls under that category; I feel as if I loose the vibe than I am too far behind to catch up.  However, recent events have taught me to appreciate even the less inspired entries in the life of the Button Family.

To begin, I feel as though there is great need to send out some more joy and rejoicing!!

Applause for Blogger!
Now this blog contains some of the most precious things to me - pictures.  Within the last month our Mac had a pretty severe heart attack, or stroke, whichever mainstay body organ you would equate the hard drive of a computer.  It died.  We saw some warning signs, but did not take it to the doctor before they called the time.  Within that oh so dead hard drive are ALL our photos.  I know, backup and so forth, and we tried, just not often enough and this was before the invention of iCloud.  Now, all I want for Christmas is my pictures back, which may be possible in a clean room environment by some highly trained specialist, and to me, it is worth it.  Thank heavens I have been putting at least some snippets of life here, with photo evidence.

Hooray for Housewives!
I have had a bit of a showdown with my feminist teacher in my Women's Literacies course.  Some conversations were unpleasant, but I was bold in a way I felt I must (and feel very relieved to have heard echoed sentiments in the 183rd semi-annual general conference) and in a small way, triumphant.  Through persistence I have found a way to make sure feminist theory not overshadow the authentic feminine voice and have determinedly shown a true representation would be more humble and reflective of the sensibilities that make women excellent housewives!  I have felt so inspired that I have decided to formulate a whole years work on the subject, in the form of a master's thesis.  Ah! Finally to be inspired by a cause that speaks so clearly to who I am and what I stand for in an academic community that has been misrepresenting authenticity!  High point: my professor admitted to the class that if any woman were to suscribe to a feminist view point they must admit that feminism, as a body of theory and movements associated with it, has made some pretty harsh mistakes which still hold the name under a wicked lens. Own up to it, and then you are able to really understand what the third wave movement is all about.  And yes, I consider myself a feminist activist, and I will more than likely explain more about that as research continues.

Hats of for Dental Insurance!
We did our before-school-check-ups on the kids' teeth.  After our last multiple procedure visits in AZ for Faith and Danny we had decided to pay dental insurance - and hooray we did!  Faith had swallowed her crown and Danny's two front teeth were rotting at the roots.  Again, Viv gets high honors for having the world's wonder enamel with no needed dental attention beyond a bit of plaque.  End result, three removed teeth.  Faith had the rotted crownless tooth removed and Danny, well, we shall say that hearing the 'original' version of "all I want for Christmas" is delightful.

Last time with front teeth for years to come.

Two small treasures at one big price.

Small and strange perks of Indiana, what fun!

In the small quiet town where Josh practices medicine, the world's largest historic car auction happens yearly!  I think all the citizens of the town also own historic cars, for not only are there lots full of cars for auction prices, every house in town has a beautiful car sitting out in the front yard with a for sale sign.  I can't wait until we have money....I have my eye set on a few beautiful models.  It is a car lovers dream, and here we are in the middle of it!

And three cheers for finding what you don't need!

This is the house that Josh and I had envisioned as our forever home.  In the country with a wrap around porch.  Bonus for being in the correct location.  Naturally, when I saw a for sale sign in the front yard I convinced Josh that it would be worth our while to go walk through it, just to make sure that we didn't miss our opportunity.  Turns out the house is dreamy.  We did our research, and in so doing found an even dreamier home.  We tried to hurriedly get our ducks in a row to put an offer on our dream home, that was for real and for sale.  Turns out, ducks don't like being rushed or herded.  Although we did eventually round up enough of the appropriate ducks, our dream house had already floated out of our reach.  This house is still there.  We see it daily.  But we now know what ducks are ready and which are not and are happy to just stay in our own little pond and keep dreaming.  Dreams are useful, but it makes the most financial sense to live in what you can afford right now.

The sunflowers were incredible and made the house so quaint.

Our neighbor put up the picket fence and I like how nice it makes our home look.

As of Sept. 2nd we had put in a lot of work into this home, and it shows.

Backyard particularly has transformed with grass, fencing, 

and the almost finished garden.