Study Breaks

I want to shout to the world: "I LOVE STUDY BREAKS!"
My husband's study breaks, specifically.

If you were to take a look through our big living room window during one of Pete's little study breaks, you might see us inside doing jumping jacks or maybe making dinner together. You might even see us cheering and laughing as we shoot hoops with loaded diapers into the garbage can across the room. Or we might be standing in the kitchen, eating Nutella with winnie-the-pooh animal crackers, discussing my discovery that Eeyore is perfectly curved for smoothly scraping the last bit of nutella from the once heaping spoon.


Oh the simple joys in life :)

The Ever Unpredictable and Elusive Sleep

What do you do when you find yourself awake for no reason at 4:18 am?

Obviously, you go back to sleep.

But if that doesn't work?

Me and the husband found ourselves in just such a predicament on this lovely Saturday morning. So instead of sleeping in to an embarrassingly late time like we had planned, we got out of bed and found ourselves facebooking, blog-perusing, and downloading free ringtones for my cell phone well before the sun was up. 

Then we went to kneaders at 7 am and got all-you-can-eat French Toast. 

Because sometimes when you wake up at 4:18 am, you just have to roll with it.

"With our thoughts, we make the world."

(Washing dishes…)

This summer will be.

I feel a little piece of my soul perking up. It’s been dormant for a little while---not dead. Dormant.

Dor . mant [dawr-muhnt]

4. inactive but capable of becoming active;

5. Being in an inactive state during which growth and development cease and metabolism is slowed, usually in response to an adverse environment. In winter, some plants survive as dormant seeds or bulbs, and some animals enter the dormant state of hibernation.

6. Not active but capable of renewed activity. Volcanoes that have erupted within historical times and are expected to erupt again are dormant.

(On the trail…)

Pete made this trail. (“Well, I helped” he would say).

The evening found us in our hoodies, clinging to each other as we stood on the beach, the tide lapping a little below our feet.

We sat not touching on a heap of dry but wave-softened logs, watching the blazing streak of orange across the ocean disappear as the sun set.

Then the orange made its way into the sky.

The solitary tree on that outcropping of rock looks good. Like it once quivered being all alone out there but now it’s becoming okay with its place. Like soon it might even bask in the sunlight that illuminates it. The sunlight was always there…I guess the tree didn’t notice.

What if I was in an Arizona desert (where I’ve never actually been in real life) instead of this rich, green, lilies-of-the valley-and-bleeding-heart lushness?

Why does that even come to my mind?