July 31, 2017 § 2 Comments
The fact that I hesitate to tell you about July in the PNW feels like evidence that maybe I have truly made it my home. I have adopted the protective nature of the locals — just hush about the summer weather. Allow the perception of the deep darkness, the depressing wetness to perpetuate in the mind of the rest of the world. When strangers wander in and marvel at the clear bright skies, let them think it’s a fluke, they caught us on a good day.
That seems a bit sinister. Maybe it’s that talking about it seems a bit too cruel? Beloved friends down in Texas are persevering through 100+ degree days, 90+ degree nights and we’re up here picking blueberries at 3 in the afternoon, never breaking a sweat, sleeping with windows open and waking up a little chilly.
My friends really don’t want to hear about it anymore, so it’s probably fine that I don’t have many pictures to share this month.
I was convinced that my June pneumonia had cost me the garden. After months of obsessive planning, prepping, and finally planting, I was taken down at the critical moment. Everything went in late, was neglected, left uncovered or unwatered or in various stages of UNGARDENED *horror movie scream*.
But it’s sort of like when you have your second baby and you realize that 85% of the skills you worked so hard to teach your first child are just things infant humans do.
So, yeah, the garden gardened.
When we go out to the garden to get food for dinner, our bellies are full before we come back inside. I had to let an entire row of the garden go, be swallowed up by the earth, because we have such an abundance we cannot keep up, more than I can even pack up to give away before it disappears into the soil (we are working on this). The kids are permanently stained with berry juice and never eat at the table.
The only pest in my garden is a barn cat.
The only seeds that didn’t come up are the ones I failed to plant.
The only problems are the ones I’ve invented for next year.
My lack of documentation is not due exclusively to the fullness of the outdoor garden. There’s been a lot going on inside, too. Coming from a climate where we were forced indoors by suffocating heat, we have always started our school year in July. And though I was hesitant to keep this tradition thinking I ought to give them the fullness of the 18 hour PNW summer days to just do whatever people do outside in July when the sun doesn’t kill you, my kids were insistent that 4th and 2nd grade start on time. So school and the garden are both in full swing and I am now very, very grateful for that month long nap I took in June.
January 1, 2012 § 5 Comments
There are two stories I am clearly avoiding:
- The part when my father left.
- My obsession with powerlifting.
I’m sure these topics have lots in common, but the most relevant thread is this blog. I started this whole deal because I was interested in figuring out my story, looking at all the pieces, putting them in order, polishing up my testimony. I thought the hardest parts were going to be the ones about being a very fat kid, a very crazy teenager, a very fat and very crazy young adult. Turns out, those pieces came fast and easy.
I just don’t want to talk about my dad. But that’s what’s supposed to happen next.
I do want to talk about powerlifting. But that’s weird.
Here are my options:
- Quit writing altogether.
- Keep writing stupid filler posts about why I don’t write and what I’m not writing about until I get brave enough to look at the part about my dad and write that.
- Write about powerlifting.
Well then. I guess it’s decided.
Happy New Year from my Jesus loving, formerly obese, bipolar, Paleo, Montessori, Charlotte Mason, homeschooling, POWERLIFTING, mommy blog!
And my guns.