Diary for July: Week Four

Late Friday afternoon, July 20.  The wind is blowing a bit and the dogs are lying under the pecan tree outside the window.  Kate and I were just texting a few minutes ago.  I've been watching the trees and the skies and the grasses about me closely and I felt  that autumn will be early this year.  Today she texted me her prediction.  She usually does this each season.  She confirmed my suspicion.  Katie has a weather sense, like Granny did, and since she was very young has informed me of weather ahead and seasons about to change.  Their average is far better than weather men with all their satellite views and other technology.  I felt complimented this afternoon when I told her I'd been thinking it would be early and she said "You're learning."   High compliments from someone to whom it comes naturally.



The house is quiet because the boys are down for a nap.   Bess in from her doctor's appointment took Isaac off to bed with her.  I have made Shabat bread and a salad and supper is a casserole dish, Spaghetti Diable.  I added chopped zucchini to it because I had some leftover last night when I was making zucchini oven fries for our dinner to help in  stretching the two potatoes left that I'd also fried.

In all the 40 years I have been making this chicken and spaghetti dish I have never deviated from the recipe by adding in or taking out any item.  I might have increased the spaghetti and decreased the chicken but I've never altered the recipe in any other way.  That is a rare thing from a woman who reads a recipe and then alters it immediately ever so slightly.  I didn't even think of this until I was making the dish this afternoon.  It's one of those that is perfectly good the way it's made, simple and basic and there never seemed any reason to 'fancy' it up or add to it.  But we all agreed the zucchini was tasty and it's an addition I'd make in the future if I had any on hand.  I diced the zucchini and cooked it only until it was just heated and let the rest of the cooking take place in the oven, so it was a little crisp tender still.

Josh is not a meat lover as a rule and never has been, not even as a baby.  I set him aside some plain tomato sauce(no zucchini as he is suspicious of anything green at all) and plain spaghetti and he had  his own meal tonight. Usually the evening meals are a big hassle with Josh.  He eats breakfast two or three times if allowed and will generally eat his lunch but at dinner  Josh happily chatters away, avoiding the foods on his plate.  When forced he will twirl a piece of meat on his fork, or tuck a bite of a vegetable into his cheek until he begins to look rather chipmunk-like, and then the battle with his parents begins.  I so dislike dinner time drama, it having been the primary arena for childhood family fights every.single.night.  of my own childhood, but I have had to endure this at least five nights of seven since they moved in.   While I have especially disliked his parents stance on these mealtimes overall, I bite my tongue.  He is their child and not mine.  However, even I have become harder of heart when he stares at me when I tell him, "Eat, please," and the food upon his plate is absolutely for sure a favorite meal.  Nope.  Not gonna do it.

 He is a puzzle to all of us not only because he rarely likes any meat, but because he is one of those sort who eats to live but doesn't particularly like eating...and in a family of folks who are almost all cooks and foodies or at least admits they like food a good deal, he is quite an anomaly to us indeed!  Isaac, bless that little fellow, easily eats his food and any Josh leaves behind and whatever anyone is willing to offer him off their plates.  He likes food and all food except green beans and lettuce and we know it's just a matter of time before he likes those.

Becky asked about the new baby sister that arrived.  She is not my granddaughter but is my former daughter in law's child.  Since my son is father to the three it was natural that he and I would take over child care while Lori was in hospital and yes it was appreciated by her and by him.  Jd retired from the Coast Guard in April and attends school just now and so I saved him missing a few days and Lori had peace of mind that the children were cared for by someone who knows and loves them.

 I was amused that Hailey is the one who, not even having met the baby yet at that time, was well aware that her world was being impacted by the arrival of this little sister.  The boys didn't seem to register that their lives would change in any way at all. She informed me that "Mama and S went shopping and everything they bought was just for the baby!"   and a little later she mourned that she was having to share her closet with the baby's things.   At our last lunch together, I reminded them that Mama would need help in the home and they should be especially good about doing what was asked because she wouldn't be able to do much lifting, etc.  "Well, I'll tell you one thing I won't do!  I'm NOT changing any diaper!" was Hailey's immediate reply.  At this point the boys finally voiced their only opinion about the baby in agreeing that they most especially weren't going to change the stinky diapers.

I did enjoy my time with the children and my son.   The twins (Zach is the older of the two, Hailey is the youngest) made time for me each morning.  One or the other would come sit by my side as I sat in the sunroom reading and writing.  Daniel, who turns 9 this weekend, couldn't be bothered with that sort of clinging but I was relieved to see that he has still got that wonderful imagination that made him so much fun to play with from about age three onward and he and I had some wonderful, if unusual and sometimes morbid but very intelligent conversations about various things during meals.  The twins joined in the talks and it was fun to see their interests and to hear their opinions.

I also loved that while all the children do chores fairly well, Hailey has a homemaking heart.   Each day I was there she went to her room after lunch and cleaned it or rearranged the furniture or in some way made her room more pleasant.  Yes, I saw a little homemaker in her scheduling time to do her work each day and her desire to make it pretty.  I was invited in every afternoon when she was done to see her handiwork and she had indeed done a good job!  A girl after this Gramma's own heart.

While their initial greeting of me was cool and casual "Oh hi, Gramma..."  their goodbyes were sweeter with multiple hugs and kisses.   But I must confess it was Josh who made my day the day I left there and came home.  He ran into the kitchen screaming "Gramma!  It's Gramma!  She's home!" and a little later, when Bess, who had not been in the room when I arrived walked in he said "Oh Mama, Gramma's back and she's...Oh Mama isn't she pretty?"  It made my heart sing  and had my mouth not been full of salad at that moment I'd have cried out loud.

I was awake well before the alarm went off this morning which John slept right to, thinking over the disaster of talk the night before and wishing above all that I'd not spoken up.  It was my doing, you see, the speaking up, but the wrong approach and it proved to be a big mess.  We are a civil group of people with room to acknowledge the failure of ourselves and others but tensions strain.  Each one of us carries a load that the other knows nothing about or doesn't understand.   When I came from my room this morning,  I found Bess waiting.  "I know what you were trying to do last night and I would like to come into prayer agreement with you.   I was angry at first but as I thought about it I understood what your intent was and why.   Can we pray together over this?"  I know she saw the absolute relief in my eyes as I walked over and took her hand and we prayed.

Some of you have shared your own journeys in remodeling a home and in living in it as you went;  of living in less than ideal situations and making do.  I reckon we all have done just that.  We've all made do plenty.  It wasn't a reluctance to lower their standard of living because they were doing that I assure you.  They were leaving a lovely house, 2700 sq. feet with beautiful finishes  in a lovely little town that was also a happening sort of place, to move into a home that is not quite 1000 sq. feet on 40 acres in the middle of nowhere, near a little town that is slowly curling up to die.  The house on the property they bought was rough on the exterior and there were issues with things inside that had to be worked out before they moved in.

It was what they found as they began the renovation of the bathroom that was absolutely necessary that prevented their living in the house as it was. Water damage spread from one room to another and the floor literally was lifted by the handful of rotten wood.  There simply was no way that they could live in a house with a gaping hole in the floor that stretched across three rooms.

There were many hardships they have faced as they've gone on this journey.   When they do move, only a portion of the house will be livable, about 600 sq feet of it.  There will still be reno work necessary to repair conditions as bad or worse on the other half of the house.  They have concentrated on having a working bathroom, kitchen and finishing the two bedrooms.

My regret in this process has been mostly to do with myself.  I wish I were the sort that handled changes gracefully.  I wish I was one to settle in and make the best of the worst things.  Every single time I  have been certain God has called me to do something I have whined and dragged my feet and  fussed and then reluctantly done what had to be done while showing a general lack of grace.  At least that's the way I see  myself in these situations.

I am constantly torn trying to determine what is my Christian duty and what isn't. There is indeed, as Granny always said, need for moderation in ALL things...even in what is perceived as Christian duty.  Truly Christ did not turn away a need, but neither did he fail to sleep, eat, or pray.  I can't claim I've forgotten to eat, but I didn't do so well with the sleep and prayer bits.

These things I have learned:  I need to know where my boundary lines lie.  I need to stand and guard them.  I am a hard working woman but not everyone  shares my sense of responsibility nor do they want to experience the satisfaction that comes from a job well done. There are those who work hard and those who are willing to get by on excuses and let others do the work. There are people who will say they love you but only as long as they can  suck the marrow from your bones and leave you dry and dead inside.  I have learned to avoid them.  I have struggled hard but MUST learn to say "No, I'm sorry, but I can't do that."  I have seen that my family, loving as they are, have no idea the toll their requests take upon my physical and emotional strength and it isn't until I breakdown entirely that they do.  I have to learn to take care of me in order to take care of others.

Saturday, July 21:  Today was a dear friend's birthday.  We've never formally met, though we spoke on the phone once many years ago at Christmas.  It was lovely to hear her speak and we each exclaimed over the other's accent.   We write one another nearly daily, having met through a pen pal list some 20 odd years ago online.

We've never held back our personal opinions but have only had a tiff or two in all those years.

She's heard all the most intimate details of my life and I've heard hers.  She moved from one continent to another, and then moved house three times and I've stayed right here where I started out   Our children grew up and married.  We've gone from being mums at home to being grandmothers.  We each know the especial wonder of it and the funny sort of heartache that comes with having grandchildren we've never met living far away.  We've been through health woes and life threatening  ailments and the every day ordinary sorts of woes and pleasures that anyone else might have.

I should have been lost without her friendship all these years and I mean that sincerely.  Funnily enough all of my dearest friends are people online whom I've never met, and some of them I've known as long but Roni has been an especially close friend and a true blessing in my life.  I pray special prayers over my friends on their birthdays and I spend the day thinking of them and their role in my life.   That's what I've been doing today.

Sunday, July 22:  We said goodbye, albeit in our hearts, today as we went to church to hear our pastor speak for the last time.  I've really enjoyed every single sermon this man has preached over the almost three years(?) we've attended.  With nearly all of the 800 members of the congregation wishing to speak to him at the end, there was no getting near enough to really say goodbye but I'm glad we were there.

It was an emotional service for me today.  Emotional because last night I had a text and then phone conversation that set my heart to aching terribly.  A child of mine is  hurt and heartbroken and me with nothing but the useless standard Mama clucking noises to make.  I'd laid awake a bit last night before finally sleeping and awakened early this morning with a great heaviness in my heart.  Sadly, I know that this is not my battle to fight and I understood that as I prayed.  It is a battle that must be fought as the adult that this child is.   I was thinking this as I sat on the side of the bed praying and John, who had been in the bath readying himself for church, came out and sat next to me.  As we two leaned one upon the other he said quietly, 'It's not our battle...' and I nodded. Obviously he too had been in prayer, and the answer was confirmed to us both. This sort of thing happens often enough with him, thinking the same thoughts, praying similar prayers and coming to the same answers, that I don't take it lightly but as the confirmation that God has truly spoken.  It doesn't ease the aching of my heart, of our hearts, for our child but we must let them do this fight on their own with our prayers of protection and love surrounding them as armor.

The song service was especially moving today and I had tears streaming down my face for most of it.  I'd begun to pray as soon as the service began and I felt such self loathing.  Who was I, complainer and whiner that I am, to go before the King of Kings, claiming worship,  and bow down?  I saw myself doing just that, bowing down before Him and to my shame watched as all these things rolled out of me: bitterness, disappointment, unhappiness, hurt, unforgiving of others, worry, fear and more. No crown to cast at His feet; only a pile of trash to spill out  before him.  Such a lot of rubbish and that was all I came to lay down before the Most High?  I saw myself for what I was:  A broken vessel, a dirty broken pot, not fit for any use.

And then, I felt a deep peace.  He accepted my gift for what it was.  Letting go of all that foul stuff so that He might fill me up. A verse from Isaiah 30 flashed through my mind about the broken pot.  I'd always felt the end of that verse about the shard that was not even useful for scraping coals from the fire or scooping water from a cistern, was proof that the prophet was frugal minded, lol, but today  I saw it from a different light: even broken, I still can be of  use if I curb my own inadequate responses to God's call on my life and not require further breaking.

I'd thought that the passage in our lives of hard things was at an end but in light of last night I don't know that they are.  But these are not my hard things to face except as a sort of MASH unit, to wrap and bind wounds and keep watch.  But heartache is heartache isn't it?  Hard to face and yet keep right on striding through life doing the ordinary things while the world seemingly crashes.

Oddly enough today's sermon was something along those lines.  It was the very same sermon our pastor preached  on his very first Sunday in the church almost exactly ten years ago and I will assure you it was a fresh message even if after sitting in his file for ten years.  It spoke to my heart and soul and it helped to strengthen me for whatever lies ahead.  It was an encouragement I needed to hear and I praise God for impressing upon our pastor that was the sermon to be preached today.  I am sure more than just myself needed to hear it.  How I shall miss this wonderful man of God but I am hopeful that the new pastor will be just what is needed as well.

And in my heart I remember Elizabeth Goudge's prayer from A Scent of Water:  "Lord have mercy.  Thee I adore.  Into Thy hands."

Monday, July 23:  A quiet day at home.  Not really planned to be quiet as I thought I'd have to watch the boys far more than I have, but Sam is home as Bess began her first day of work.  She'll work the second shift from here on but for today it is 8a to 4p.  I am sure she will be tired but at least she's a space of time tomorrow before she must go in.  It will take quite a bit of getting used to and I frankly don't envy her though I know that she is glad to be working.

I don't envy her because I never really wanted to be anywhere except home.  I worked hard at my jobs and did well at them but my heart was always at home.  I know that for some women they find their fulfillment in being out in the day to day world and bringing in a check.  I've known several, including my mom, who enjoyed their professions but I just always wanted to make home my vocation and so I've been blessed to do.

One of you mentioned that you were looking forward to having the 'old Terri' back, but I am not the 'old' self in many senses.  I've been stretched and bent and pruned and I shall be a different me, because my knowledge of self has been altered as well as having learned new things and remembered old things.  My boundary lines are looking different than they did before.  I'm willing to share more here and am more aware of where I shouldn't and won't let others cross.  But yes, I will be the 'old Terri' in that I shall be sharing about home and nature and faith and making my life work and stretching my dollars, which I think was what was meant.

My friend and I chatted in emails yesterday about age.  She is younger than myself but said she was feeling rather old.  John and I, on the way home after church had also spoken of age.  Until here of late I didn't feel old. I felt stronger and healthier and more whole than I'd felt in years upon years.  Internally I'd been feeling almost childlike, but not childish, in how young I felt, still full of wonder, still aware I had lots to learn and feeling excited over it.   But in the past five months I have indeed felt old.  We are certain that it's because we are both tired mentally and physically. (how hard we have physically worked these months!!) and because subtly the adult children living with us tend to treat us as though we were quite old and decrepit, an almost subliminal message rather than anything said out and out.

I came as near as I ever have in my life of uttering a sort of curse upon my children and that was something I've said to John:  that I sincerely hope when they are our age they realize how young we were still and that they would also  experience the same demands, for a short while, upon themselves that we have and understand more fully why we seemed put out and weary we got for all that we felt young and understood how upset we felt when treated as though doddering old half wits!   And yes, I do mean it.  Hindsight at least has some satisfaction in making us aware of how mistaken we were in some course of action or other and they might as well benefit from the hindsight they will have at that time.

Well, time for a nap.  There's supper to be prepared and another $20 of my allowance put towards food to give us just enough to piece out what we have without actually going to the grocery and doing a  proper shop.

later:  I did indeed take a nap this afternoon.  I'd set up my phone to watch a simple 6 minute video from Parisienne Farm Girl on you tube and I don't think I saw 2 minutes before I was most soundly asleep.  I dragged myself awake at 4:30!  My goodness, I slept hard and deep and was reluctantly contemplating the need of cooking supper when my phone rang and it was John who'd only just discovered he'd left his wallet at home this morning.  Could I please run it down to his work place?

Sam loves to cook and does it beautifully and since he'd basically helped plan the meal this morning, there was no trouble in asking him to have at it...I'll tell you about that in a bit too because it ended being a lovely meal and I want to share, but first, there are other things to say.

It had been dark and thundery when I  went to sleep but it had passed, without rain, and taking all the heavy humidity with it.  It was lovely outdoors, a mere 83F and so nice that I rode with the car windows down all the way to John's workplace.  I took a very short detour and went by my old former house, that best loved home in that small town and just caught a quick glimpse of new paint, new siding, new windows.  It's not pretty, but it's being loved on, and it made me so happy to see that someone is loving it in ways I was never able.  I'm always shocked at how small it looks but it felt big enough really all those years ago and we had one room we never even used much to my regret as it was, in my opinion, the nicest room in the house, just awkwardly placed.

I met John at the new station and declined his offer to come in since I hadn't stopped for makeup.  It was strictly a fresh shirt, lipstick and sunglasses thing for me today.  We chatted a few moments and I drove home again.  I drove by houses where people sat on porches chatting and by a peach orchard that was being picked, with the fermented aroma of over ripe peaches  scenting the air and birds trilling their songs from the branches as they hunted bugs and pecked at ripe fruits.  I looked at the view over the fields to the blue hills beyond the river and the great white cotton puffs of clouds against the blue sky.  It was a happy ride overall, a very pleasant break in my usual routine.

I didn't come straight home but stopped by Mama's house to drag the trash bin back to the carport, toss in the last two bags of stuff, pick up the pictures and dolls she'd asked I bring to her and then I left.  That house is waiting on something, perhaps someone,  to come along and love it.  I sensed that it's waiting on a new season in it's life, too and I sincerely hope it gets it.  It is not empty but it's clean and what's there is either moving soon or will be donated.  My part is finished except for moving out the furniture I'm buying from Kate, which we'll do as soon as Bess and Sam move.

Now about our supper.   At Aldi I'd found an Indian sauce, Tikka Masala.  The jar says simply to cook chicken chunks and red and green bell peppers to add to the sauce.  Well we did that last time we tried it and thoroughly enjoyed it, but Isaac doesn't care for the green peppers and frankly I agreed.  I love them in spaghetti sauce but not so much elsewhere.   This morning I told Sam I had no peppers and was just going to keep it plain.  He suggested I add zucchini and onions and carrots.  I had none of those things either.  I gave him the last allowance money I had in my purse and sent him out to purchase the produce and so this evening he cooked the chicken, then the carrot and onions and then added in yellow and red peppers and a zucchini and a bit of garlic and turmeric because he is my son and must slightly alter any recipe.  Y'all it was so good!  And it made a huge amount with the added vegetables so that the dish was far more economical.  So much so that we've four servings left.  Two are already packed for lunch/suppers for the working folks and I'll put the other two servings in the freezer for a heat and eat meal for John and I.

I'll have to take time tomorrow to look up the name of the sauce but we did buy it at Aldi, of that I'm sure.  It has a slight heat but is not spicy or burning hot at all.  It's more a pervading warmth in the sauce than a real heat and it's really good.  I shall make it with all the added vegetables in the future, just as Sam made it tonight.   (the sauce is called Journey to India simmering sauce and comes in Korma and Tikka Masala.  I highly recommend them if you enjoy Middle Eastern seasonings.)

And that is enough for today.

Tuesday, July 24  It was a very early start to my day this morning and not by choice.  For some reason, Isaac was screaming at the top of his lungs this morning at 5:30am...Not an easy way for a parent nor grandparent to awaken.  I managed to doze off again but in 15 minutes or so there was the sound of a second little pair of feet running through the kitchen.  Dozed again and heard parents talking in kitchen as they attempted to feed hungry boys, so I decided it was time to just get up.  It was, after all, almost 6:15 by that time...I have said the one thing I look forward to most is sleeping until I wake naturally but knowing how the body tricks one, I'll just bet my new 'normal' begins most days about 6am, lol, once the family is moved.

I made breakfast for John and the boys had second breakfasts.  This is one meal that Josh truly enjoys and will eat three times if allowed and again, Isaac just plain  likes food.  If you're eating, he'll keep you company and have a bite, too, so you won't be lonely.

I cleared up after the meal and tried to determine what I might make for dinner.   Plan A was quickly scratched when I realized I had NO beef at all, except 14 small meatballs mixed up from leftovers of thawed meat over the weekend.  I found  a container of spaghetti sauce I'd made a couple of weeks ago.   There was a Plan B meal if I could find enough pasta to manage a meal and I did.  So I mixed the meatballs, spaghetti sauce and cooked pasta, topped with cheese and had a pasta casserole of sorts for our meal.

All of this scrabbling about for foods led to  a freezer inventory (heavens! even the really old things have been nearly used up) and the kitchen cabinets.  I discovered barley and farro which had both gone rancid, set a few things aside that are truly more specific to the other family than to our meals in general and that job was soon done.  Everything was tidy and neatly organized and the job completed far too soon for my comfort levels but I still have food.  I planned a meal for tomorrow and told John after that I'm done.  I can't come up with a single meal that all six people would (well five people because Josh NEVER likes the main meal of the day even if it's his most favorite thing ever) agree upon.  If I could have managed four days more of meals I'd wait until our Harvest Day next week and shop then but it's not possible, no matter how I scratch my head and try to figure it.

Of course, I don't know what's in my pantry exactly.  Since it's part of the guest room, I generally write out a list and ask that it be fulfilled from the stores and only rarely do I venture in and out as quickly as possible when no one is home or the list has  been forgotten far too long, to gather those things.  I do know that we are out of peanut butter (John has one in the cabinet but he prefers a stock, lol) and none at all of oatmeal and several other basic items.   I am so proud of how well it's held up, though.  There is  a reason to  build a pantry and it's for just such times as these which we've just come through.  Needless to say I shall begin to rebuild it once more, as well as to stock my freezer well!

I have done quite well over the past two weeks plus but this afternoon I had a difficult time with anxiety.  Not a full blown break down, but shaky and super nervous,  and I made sure to go away into my room and take some private time.  I've felt  rather selfish slipping off, something I think some women feel, but I've discovered that I must, simply must, take care of myself first.  I know that part of my problem lies in childhood when I was called lazy and good for nothing if I weren't continually busy doing one chore or another.  Napping simply wasn't done.   I struggle to this day with that long ago voice in my head.   John never says a word to me about it, though he might slip quietly in the room and ask "You okay?"   Today I'd been alone a bit over an hour when he came to say he was going out to mow.

Aside from my dosage of medication before going into a full blown panic, I have learned to do two other simple things that make worlds of difference.  One is to open my journal to adjoining clean pages and I write in the middle of each page, the titles: "THINGS I CANNOT CONTROL" and "THINGS I CAN CONTROL" and then I write down every fear and worrisome thought on the page of things I can't control, and on the other page I write down what I can do to stay steady.  It's amazing how that simple exercise has helped calm and clear my mind and brought me off the cliff edge of  full blown anxiety.

The other thing I try to do is to make time to go outdoors each day for fifteen minutes to a half hour regardless of heat or dampness.  Yesterday morning I picked up a pile of limbs that John had trimmed and today it was to go out after he began to mow.  I cleaned the porches, weeded a flower bed, moved his car so he could mow that spot when he came back around to it.

The tree limbs I picked up on Monday were  from the Faith Tree and quite large.   I'd noticed one branch hanging a bit low and had thought I'd make a point of going out to trim the end which usually allows the branch to lose a bit of weight and return to its proper position.   Well I put off the task and we had a storm blow through hard and fast.  No damages but to that heavy limb which simply couldn't take the added weight and the whipping about as well and snapped it but not quite in two pieces so it hung to the ground.  Of course, John decided he needed to trim the tree still further.  I admit I stood watching anxiously at the window and even called Bess to witness the number of limbs he was cutting.  It pained me to watch them fall to the ground, truly it did, but I  noted when I went out on the front porch a little later that I could now see down to the driveway once more.   And I took note again as I was coming up the driveway the next day that I could see the front porch clearly from the drive, but that the tree had retained a lovely shape, as well.  It was a necessary pruning albeit one I hated to watch.

Truthfully that's a lot like this whole season has been.  I've loathed my complaining and whining and anxiety but in the end, I needed the pruning I've had and hopefully, it will make the views a lot clearer as well as eliminate further damages.    Not the first time that Faith Tree has taught me a lesson!

Friday, July 27  This weekend the Exodus begins...There's work to finish up and Gramma's services are needed to see to it that it the little boys are well out of the way of carpet tack lines and such, but yes, the family is moving and by Sunday evening should be happily in their semi-renovated home.

It looks lovely and some wonderful things have happened to come together in a way that can only have been answered prayer the last couple of weeks.  Flooring that exactly matches what they wanted most at 1/3 the cost and is in enough supply to serve all their needs and then some, among other things, as well as unexpected blessings that allowed purchase of those much needed items.

I am weary.   The week has been long and there's been added worries with others of my children.  I feel at times as though my family at large were under attack at present.  Not that we're being especially sought out...Just that it's a difficult season to make passage through and there's nothing to do, but what I'm forever telling any of my girls, which is 'the only way to be done is to go through it.'  Mind you, I like far better to say it to them than I like to have to remind myself of it.

Still, even if every worry is not immediately solved, the family will be in their home and we will have ours once more.   Just at first, we had the occasional break from one another but here in the past few months there have been no breaks.  I got a small taste of what it might feel like to have uninterrupted conversation with John during evening phone calls while staying at Jd's...but to have that opportunity on a daily basis will be quite something.

I took time this week to begin an Idea Book and in it is a long list of plans, room diagrams showing how furniture is to be rearranged, notes about projects I want to begin at long last, ideas of how I might 'make do', because I shall not have unlimited funds even if I do have a few more available than I've had in the past 5 months.  I am not afraid of not having anything to fill my hours and days though.  The list of projects I've longed to tackle this year is long enough to last me through the end of this year at the very least; even if funds are limited there's plenty to be done that I do have materials to attend to without buying a thing.

Yes, I have lots of plans and I'm excited at the idea of being able to at last carry some of these out.  But I have to get through the current days before I arrive at the end of the weekend.  This morning, I was all set up to write but was constantly interrupted by a four year old with questions and a sleepy 17 month old and packages being delivered for the other house and laundry, dishes, meals and finally by John who thought he might take a moment to share a lovely passage from his Bible with me and then Isaac awoke and I'd written one word.  One.

Well it's time for a 4 year old to go down for a nap and  a diaper change and supper preparations to make and meals to plan and semi-prep for the weekend ahead...So I leave you this week, this last full week of July...

We shall see what next week brings, but I think the July diary is at an end.

Reading This Week:  Just finished the Elizabeth Goudge biography that's taken me so very long to read.  I am reading the daily entries from Simple Abundance, as well as the book of Romans and Dueteronomy as my daily Bible readings.

Fair Tomorrow by Emilie Loring.   This book is written truly from the perspective of the depression era.  I think, again, the thing I enjoy most with handy access to the internet is being able to look up references to music, plays, books, poems and people who obviously were 'someone' at the time the author wrote the book.   This week I discovered Alice Foote MacDougall, one of the first business women entrepreneurs who took her coffee beans and made coffee of them...and incidentally changed her fortunes.  It's a great story hidden within the story I've been enjoying already.

I've not been watching or listening to any particular programs or music this week so nothing to share there.

Have a great weekend!