An Australian dessert, fit for a Russian, made by a Canadian, eaten by all kinds of people.

Strawberry Pavlova...

photo from triedandtruerecipes.blogspot.com

Or as I call it, "all mine".

See that face? 

That face is thinking "If you touch my pavlova...I will bring down the boom."

And I will. Just ask my kids. Muahahaha.

Ahem.

Okay, so...how does one make this plate of perfection?

Beat 6 eggs white until stiff.

photo from tourism1.blogspot.com

Here's a tip: separate the eggs one at a time, THEN when you are sure there's no yolk in the white, THEN put it in the mixing bowl. Egg whites don't whip 'up' if there is one drop of yolk, so do each egg, one at a time.

I usually just turn the mixer to medium and leave it to do its work.

Once the whites are stiff, add 1 1/2 cups of white sugar, not all at once though. Sprinkle it on, or you'll crush the nicely whipped egg whites. 

Whip the egg whites and sugar until the grainy feel of the sugar is as diminished as possible.

Then add one teaspoon each of vanilla, white vinegar and cornstarch, and beat a few more minutes..

Put a sheet of parchment paper (do as you're told) on a pizza pan or baking sheet. I use a round pizza pan that has holes it in. I prefer using this pan because the heat goes up into the meringue and gives it a better texture than a plain cookie sheet.

Bake for ONE HOUR at 250F, then turn the heat off and leave the shell in overnight.

CAREFULLY remove the cooled shell from the parchment paper. I do this by holding the shell and paper in one hand and peeling the paper by the edges all around until it comes off. If you do it SLOWLY , then you won't crack the shell in half. The shell will crack, it always does, but just a bit.

To serve:

Place shell on serving plate.

Whip 1 1/2 cups whipping cream, yes, with sugar, and spread on the shell. 

Add 2 pounds of sliced strawberries, yes, with a bit of sugar to bring out the juices, or any kind of berry combination you like, even kiwis.

Serve and enjoy. 

photo from Ciaowinnipeg.com

I dare you to only eat one piece!!

Say what you mean to say, but ...

...don't you dare make something up to make yourself look good, or make me feel like you care, when you don't.


WHY am I on this topic?
I was reading Facebook posts on what not to say to pregnant women or adoptive parents.

And it got me thinking. 
And yes, I am as guilty as anyone about this subject.

Do we give out false compliments that end up hurting someone?


First, a wee story.

Years ago, like, 15 of them, there was this (for real) wonderful lady in the church we attended.

No, no names. 

I mean, AS IF??

Anyway, she was one of those women who EVERYONE adored. You know the kind I mean, leads Bible study, visits the elderly, cooks for the folks who can't, preaches, teaches, and generally rocks the Casbah and is downright pure awesomesauce.

A truly, genuinely NICE and loving person.

And I wanted her to like me.

And I don't think she did.

Many of you are thinking "really, why not? You're just so warm and fuzzy and calm and haven't an ounce of judgmental snark in you!"
Oh, and the mutated way I view the world has nothing to do with it either.
Or that I grew up in a big city church and rubbed elbows with all kinds of people who blew me away, and this lady didn't. 

I mean, DID I have an air of  "No, darlin', you don't impress me much, but keep trying, maybe one day you will."?
Did I have the air of "big city girl does time in small town"? Probably. 

At the time, I was still STRUGGLING with the fact that we were in a place I hadn't wanted to live. Ever. Not my whole life. And whoaaa, here we were.

And there was Mrs Supergirl, parting the crowds with her smile and hugging as she walked through the throngs of admirers.

But not me.
Never me.
Ever.

But, I sort of got an attitude. I think. 
Anyway, I started to feel like, "ya know, I don't care, I really don't" when I really did. NOT because all of a sudden she picked me for the team, but because she'd look at me like "hey, Trainwreck, how ya doing?"

So I tried to behave. I know, stop laughing. 
I TRIED to be worthy.

*I* tried.

Then one day, the woman who NEVER SPOKE TO ME EVER, was walking out the door as I was walking in, and she grabbed me by the shoulders and hugged me and blurted out something that sticks with me and resonates for all the wrong reasons.

"You're doing a wonderful job as a mother." 

Then she was gone.

So was my respect for her.
Instantly.

Why?

She never asked my name.
She didn't know my story.
She didn't know ME.


So why did that statement insult me so much?

If she didn't know me, she didn't know my kids and she had NO idea about my life. AT ALL.


So, what am I saying?

If you are going to up and give out a whopper of a compliment, KNOW to whom you bestow the words.

Because when you grab someone by the shoulders and say something like that. Say it in a moment when the listener can soak it up and let it wash over them.

There are SO many hurting people in the world. 
Don't toss kind words under the wheels of life. Give them out so that they are rain in a desert.

Be sincere.
Be real.
Be an oasis.

Who are Ted and Evie, Billy the Kid, what is a hogan and why I'm glad I can climb fences.

Back in 2012, two friends and I made it to the Bosque Redondo museum in beautiful Fort Sumner , New Mexico. It's quite pretty there, although hard to find,since the bigger draw in Fort Sumner is the Billy the Kid Museum and grave.

Yup, the supposed grave of a dead criminal. I know, right? 

"Honey, get the kids!! We need a picture of them posing next to a criminal's grave!"

 Anyway, we finally found the museum, waaaaay at the end of a road.

But I didn't get a chance to go out onto the land.

But, in November of 2013, I met...

Ted and Evie.

Or as they are formally known, Mr and Mrs 

Theodore and Evelyn Charles, of  Gallup , New Mexico. 

Well, not in Gallup, they live in a two story hogan, a rarity, on a hill outside of Gallup.  

Here they are, posing at Canyon de Chelly ( 'duh Shay) I seriously don't have a picture of the two of them without one of them either with their eyes shut, or someone having fun. 

Cough. Ted.

These two met in the early 1960's when she arrived at Rehoboth MIssion School in Gallup to work as a nurse. She was sweet and idealistic, and somewhat far from home. Ted had just gotten back from his time as a Marine and  was the boy's dorm supervisor/muscle/counsellor/chief trouble maker.

And if I do say so myself, I *think* our Ted was somewhat of a flirt.  

And here they are, 47 years later. 

And he still makes her blush.

So, HOW does a Canadian living on the East Coast meet and travel all over New Mexico and Arizona with a Navajo man and his wife?

Short story? I met Kiersti Plog(http://kierstiplog.com), (Facebook/blog 'met') then I found Mark Charles' blog on Kiersti's blog roll (www.wirelesshogan.blogspot.com) and then Mark introduced me to his dad, Ted.

And so it began.

I spoke with Ted on the phone, for almost 90 minutes, and long story short, he suggested I come to New Mexico.

Umm, here's the thing.

I haven't got the time or money to go to New Mexico. My schedule is packed solid.

So I prayed about it...

And God opened the doors!

Backtracking...I drove from Colorado Springs with Amy Drown, and we arrived in Belen, had dinner and Andrew and Barbara and the next morning, Ted and Evie drove A LONG WAY to rendezvous with me in the (not) swank Super 8 in Belen.

Then we drove a long way to Fort Sumner. Like, a LONG way. 

We got there, it was a gorgeous day, birds were singing, we were having a great time getting to know each other, the gates were locked and the sign said "no trespassers"

Umm.

WHAT?

So, we ended up next door at the state fair grounds.

And the gates were chained there, too.

Thankfully, the sign said "no littering".

See those two?

Yeah.

We didn't litter.

Neither did Evie.

We discussed our options, and decided to climb the fence. Evie wasn't too thrilled about it, since it really was trespassing. But, technically, there was no sign to say "2 white girls and a Navajo man cannot climb this fence and wander over to museum property and climb that fence and wander around unsupervised".

And I did not come ALL THIS WAY to be deterred by a sign.

Soooooo....

 Here's the Pecos. 

The pretty but poisonous Pecos. 

Meandering through the prison camp, the only water source for miles.

It was a beautiful day.

We even found a squash vine. We wondered if that vine was part of a garden, 150 years ago.

Given that is was close to the riverbank and under a huge cottonwood tree, it may very well be a heritage plant.

Or, who knows?

See how flat the terrain is? Imagine thousands upon thousands of people there, living in squalid, inhumane conditions. It was SO BAD, that the government signed a treaty and let the remaining prisoners go.

The Navajo measure their history before Bosque Redondo, or as the Navajo call it, Hweeldi , which began in 1864 and after, 1868.

Some say the word Hweeldi is a derivative of the Spanish word fuerte.

What it was? 

It was a living nightmare for 9500 Navajo.

And one of them was a little boy named Tsi'naginnie. (sit-nah-jin-ee).

One day, little Tsi'naginnie would grow up and have his own children, and one day, his grandson would come into the world.

His name? 

Theodore Charles.

Somewhere, across that field, all kinds of families existed and endured.

 Including Ted's family.

The very interesting part of the "no trespassing"thing is that if the museum was open, we'd have never gotten so close to the river. Or in my case, onto a sand and gravel bar in the river. 

And where does the second book in my series start?

In the river.

That night, after a long drive home, and a lot of discussion, we arrived at their home. But, this was my home for a few lovely days. 

This is 'the little hogan', down the hill from their two story hogan.

What a peaceful, lovely place to think, and wonder, and be thankful for blessings I never saw coming.

Ask any one of the hundreds of people who've known and appreciated Ted and Evie's hospitality, about the little hogan, and they'll smile and sigh. 

Because Ted and Evie know exactly how to walk in beauty.

Thank you, Evie and Ted, for the treasure of your time and wisdom..

Annnnnnnd, she's down.

I had planned to write Part Two Of My New Mexico-Colorado Adventure.

But instead, you have to read about the (roughly) 35 x-rays, the cat scan and the ice storm.

Roll those altogether, add a hockey tournament in small town Canada, and you have my weekend.

Okay, LONG story short, we were in Miramichi NB for a tournament and there was a wicked ice storm. EVERYTHING was coated in ice. And I mean, everything. Roads were ice rinks, ice rinks were open and hockey must go on, right?

My friend Lynn had parked her SUV, she headed one way and I headed the other, thinking the already driven on road was better than the slick parking lot. I was walking slllllloooooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwllllllllly and carrying a cup of tea in each hand. I slipped, up went the cups, and down came me.
Or, in order: my knees, quickly followed by my chin, then my arms. 

I smashed my chin into the ice, and I could hear something snap. I think it was either my neck, or my shoulder. Not sure. 

Anyway, next, my arms went out in front of me, still holding the tea. My hands didn't have a chance to go palm open and catch my fall. And so, I landed like a volleyball player , not a skater. I'm no doctor,  but I think THAT move saved me 2 broken wrists.

And a complete meltdown, because a writer needs to type, yes?????

I managed to get my self up, then I slid and hobbled to the rink, inside and then found some of our other team parents. Of course, I needed to make sure my son had a water bottle and speak to him before the game. He was in net. 

I made it to the stands where the other parents were and that's when things got hazy. And woozy. One of the moms, Alicia, is a nurse, and I asked her to take a look at my shoulder. Then next thing we know, I'm in Renee's truck on the way to the ER. Something about my sore head and wanting to keep my eyes closed.

We got to the hospital, then somebody asked some questions, then poof, I was on a gurney, in a neck brace. 

4 hours, at least 35 x-rays, one cat scan and a really painful shot of pain killer into my thigh, I was back in the truck and in a neck brace and sling.

My friend Renee was a godsend!! She texted back and forth, from the ER, with the other parents at the game, and called my husband and kept him posted. 

Once we got back to the hotel, my son and I got settled in and then I attempted to sleep. Hahahaha.

Sunday morning, they had an 8am game, but got back at 8:45am. The other team didn't show up. Not a phone call, nothing. Stay classy, Tracadie!! So, we made the finals!
Another mom, Jennifer, drove me to the game. Our boys won and I was elated, but I just so badly wanted to get home.

ANOTHER mom, Sandra,  drove me and my van home and my son went in the truck with her hubby and sons.

I am SO happy to be home. And I am SO thankful to not have fallen backwards. I would have crack my skull and badly injured my already weak back.



Thank you, for all your help, Wildcat moms!!

    

A year in review....come ON, you knew I'd do this!! And yes, it IS all about MOI.

January: Well, it was bone chilling cold, I went back to work on my manuscript, I took kids to hockey. One family birthday.

February: Well, it was bone chilling cold, I worked on my manuscript, I took kids to hockey. Three family birthdays.

March: Well, it was bone chilling cold, I worked s'more on my manuscript, I took kids to hockey. 

April: Yes,  it was LESS bone chilling cold, I worked s'more on my manuscript, I took kids to hockey.

May: SPRING!!!!! Annnnnnnd, I turned 50. My friends threw a HUGE partay. I struggled with being FIFTY. I worked on my manuscriptS. And took kids to hockey.

June: My Mom and I went to EUROPE. And we went on a cruise through the Mediterranean. I am forever spoiled. For. Ever. SPOILED. Nothing will ever be the same, because I have seen Rome, the Greek Islands and stood where Paul preached. And I shared that adventure with my mom. TWO WEEKS of  "every day is epic" with my mom.
Found out I wouldn't be able to go to Bolivia in the Fall. Sad, but God had other plans...
I interviewed a Very Famous Person for my blog. 
My geezer brother turned FIFTY TWO!!! HAHAHAHA!!! SUCKER!! You're OLDER!!!!
Hubby and I had our 24th anniversary!

July: brain numbingly HOT, I worked on my manuscriptS. Took kids to soccer and you guessed it, hockey.

August: still hot, I worked on my manuscriptS. Found out I was able to go to ACFW because a dear angel paid for my hotel and God dropped 600$ out of the sky, therefore, I could go to the BIGGEST Christian writer's conference EVERRR!!! 
No hockey.

September: worked my sorry butt off on my manuscriptS, got a rejection...vowed to work harder. Prepped for the conference. Slowly lost my mind. Went to the conference. God blew my mind and gave me an agent!! Mary Keeley!!!

October: Workedworkedworked!!! Took kids to hockey.

November: Went to New Mexico and Colorado to do more in-depth research for books 2 and 3. Took kids to hockey.

December...took kids to hockey, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!!!!

A blog post 3 days before Christmas????

It's time to step away from the world,

and into the magic...

Merry Christmas!

I'll see you in a few days...

What a difference a year makes!!

Last December 13th I got a polite but firm rejection from an agent I wanted VERY MUCH.

Now let's get this straight, here and now. I know she wasn't rejecting ME. She was rejecting my work. It's best to act like a grown-up in these situations and establish early on that one is a professional. But...

It stung. It hurt. I was so upset. 

I gave myself a few days to wallow, as is expected when we get an answer we do not like.
Pout and whine? Sure, but I had to grab those reins, put my foot in the stirrup and get back on the horse.

I decided to that my only option was to follow her advice, and the advice of my writer friends. I read over my stuff, and admitted that it was sub-par, that I had to work harder, to push myself to read more, study more, learn more and find it within myself to be BETTER.

But I did NOT do it alone. 

No writer works alone.

I offer my work to my Audience of One. I rely on my critique peeps to read my work and to lay everything out in black and white. I ask normals to read and tell me what they think. They're cute, those normals. All...normal and stuff.

And I do buckets of research!! I currently have a healthy library of craft books, no NOT to crank up my scrapbooking or glue gun skills, and 20 books about Navajo history.  

*Sidenote- it SLAYS me to read books written back in the 1960's or 70's. The condescending attitudes toward any culture that was not Anglo or industrialized is enough to make me want to scream. I'll read them, and learn what I can, but still? UGH!

So, between December 2012 and September, I went to "school". I read my favourites- all of Laura Frantz's books, and Lori Benton's Burning Sky. Over and over and over. 
I watched how they did what they do, took note of where my heart dropped and where it stopped altogether! Then I went back and applied those skills to my arsenal. Not on their level, of course, but I did kill a few darlings!

I have my own voice, my own way of telling a story, but learning from one's favourites is really, really helpful! 

As anyone who has read this blog since this past summer knows, I got rejected, again, on September 3rd. Once again, it hurt, and once again, I looked things over, talked to some very, very wise writer friends and did what I had to do to make my work stand out.
Which meant, with roughly a week before I left for the big ACFW conference in Indianapolis, a re-write, edit, and more tweaking of the sample chapters that had just been rejected. 

Holy frijoles, it was an insane amount of work. But, did I want to go and be impressive and leave at least a few people thinking "She has something special!"? Or did I want to go and hang out? I was NOT going there to socialize!! Okay, not *entirely*.  

My husband took care of things so I could burn that proverbial candle. And burn it, I did. But I had to work hard, work harder, and then lay it all at the feet of my King.

The moral of the story?

Writers? God gives you the desire, the ache to tell stories. He gives you the brains. He opens the doors for you to learn, to grow and to bring your book baby to life. He wants your best. Not 'your best as defined by how you compare yourself to others', but He wants you to trust Him with your best.

I went to the conference on the 12th. 
I saw people I'd only met online.
I felt overwhelmed at times.
At other times, I managed to stay above water and breathe in the moment.
And most importantly? To live the moment I was in.

Even though I had an appointment with My Dream Agent on the 15th, at 9am.

I was SO ENTIRELY clueless, that at one point when I saw her, I asked her if I should bring my stuff.
I know, right? DUUUUH. Hey, I'd never been to a writer's conference, so all weekend, I basically wore my name-tag upside down ...


And as most of you know, on that September morning, as I wondered what the heck as going to happen, my Dream Agent offered representation, and I cried. A lot.



There are two days in my writer life that I'll always remember. 

December 13th, when I stood at the base of the mountain and looked WAY up, self-doubt pressing into my heart. 
And September 15th, when my world changed direction and I could barely speak for the joy of it all. 

Both are equally important, because on both those days, standing in front of me, was God asking "To whom will you build an altar?"


Him. Always Him. 

Colorado and New Mexico, November ROAD TRIP!!!

So, on November 15th, I flew to Denver. On a plane.

And frankly, November 15th was a day that shall live in infamy...I yelled, YELLED, at an unhelpful, unsympathetic, snarky, sneering airport staff person who did SQUAT to help, ohhhh, 200 people. 

I am not proud of my behaviour, but when a person simply shrugs her shoulders at the needs of 200 passengers, almost all of whom had less than 30 minutes to catch their flights, does nothing to quell their nerves and rolls her eyes at people who are really in trouble??

I will yell. 

And I know for a fact, I have not actually yelled in 4 years.

And all I said was "Excuse me?!"

Loud enough to freeze the crowd.

But I digress...

I landed in Denver, and then my dear friend Jeanne picked me up. We made our way back to Colorado Springs, and OH MY!! Look at the sky!! Hello Pike's Peak!

I spent a fabulous weekend at Casa del Jeanne and got to spend time with writer friends (Jill, Jeanne and Beth) and, and Normal Person Shari, who said "Okay, say something about writing, I need to eat." Which was a hilarious way to get her to stop talking so she could enjoy her breakfast.

Then on Monday the 18th, it was Time.

Time to pile into Amy's car and head south!!

Hola! New Mexico!!

There's Amy. She has a seriously awesome music collection!! Italian bagpipe music? Ooookay...

 Oh, MAN, it was rockin'!!

Guess where we are? Go ahead, guess!

And the coolest thing? Amy knew the way to Santa Fe. Unlike Dionne Warwick.

That's me, writing postcards in Santa Fe. Where, umm, we do NOT go to Olive Garden. No, we find a local Mom and Pop Mexican place and stuff ourselves. 

*Burp*.

Monday evening, we got to Belen, which is south of Albuquerque. We stayed at the Super 8. It had plumbing and wifi. Insert grin here.

I was getting out of the car to go check in when there They were!! Andrew and Barbara!! Yeehah!!!

Amy and I ditched our stuff and I left her in peace while Andrew and Barbara and I invaded Pete's, and misbehaved until they started subletly hinted that the sidewalks were about to roll up and it was time to lock the place for the night.

Tuesday morning, Ted and Evie Charles arrived to take me for the week. It was HARD to say goodbye to Amy,  very hard, but Bosque Redondo awaited us.

We drove for a few hours and then arrived at the Navajo Memorial at Fort Sumner, New Mexico.

Isn't it pretty there?

Look at the sparkling Pecos River.

And the pretty trees?

Oh, and the grandson of one of the prisoners. 

Prisoners?

  

Oh yes, Redheads, prisoners.

Bosque Redondo, or Hweeldi, as the Navajo people call it, was a prison camp. A terrible, horrible place where an estimated 2500 Navajo people died between 1864 and 1868.

And the age of Ted's grandfather when he was in prison for being a Navajo?

6 or 7 years old.

He was a CHILD.

Next up?

Who are Ted and Evie Charles, and how did we get IN to an old prison camp?

Dionne Warwick, friends and me....plus edit...

I'm leaving tomorrow at 5:30am , that's AM, for a flight to Toronto, then on to Denver. From Denver, an angel will pick me up and take me to Colorado Springs for the weekend!!

Jane Austin will be feted while I'm in The Springs.

Then on Monday, another angel is driving me to Albuquerque...via???


SANTA FE!!

Redheads, you have NO IDEA how THA-RILLLLLED I am to be merely driving through that town, let alone stopping for lunch and a teensy bit of shopping.

From there, on to Albuquerque (ABQ), then, from ABQ, my 'Tour With Ted and Evie' begins.

God is SOOOOO good. He's blessed me with people who will share their home and their Navajo culture and answer a tonne of questions. I am over the moon!! And yes, I will be documenting everything. I even have a voice recorder on my phone. Insert grin here.

Feel free to start praying for them NOW.

After that, I take the train from Gallup to ABQ, then I get to meet an online friend I've "known" for years. Yet another reason to be excited.

Overnight in ABQ, then fly back to Denver, and another angel will take me back to The Springs. Or COS as they say.

I fly home on the 27th and flop for a few days.

Then back to work.

SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!


* that online friend is a girl,in case anyone is curious. NOT a Russian millionaire named Igor...

The '2 steps forward-2 steps back' grown-up dance.

Do you ever have days when you just drop your jaw and think "But...I thought I had it all together? I thought when I hit (insert your age here) I'd stop screwing up?"

Days when you crawl into bed and you're too weary to take out your contacts? Too indifferent to brush your teeth? Too worn out to even read?
Stuff is coming at you from all sides and you toss it all in the air and curl up in your blankie and sigh? But you can't sleep because it feels like you've had 14 lattes...and they all tasted bad?
You're a grown-up but all you want to do is call your mom and whine, and I mean WHINE about all the things that are piling up. But since you're a grown-up, you can't, because people need you to get it together and be present in the day to day life that you're supposed to have all together.

But deep inside, there's a kid who just wants to lie down on the floor and play with Legos and eat Halloween candy until she's cross eyed and shaking.

Yeah, yeah, I know. Normally I'm Perky McPerkerton. But yesterday Perky...wasn't.

In late afternoon, when I got to where I was supposed to pick up #4, one person thought it'd be funny to tell me someone should have called, because he got injured. 
Then she waved it off, telling me she couldn't do that to me. She's a doll, so I wasn't too mad, AND I knew they'd have called.


At least dinner was good. 

And so was the knowledge that I still have one TINY piece of Toblerone hidden in my house.

And I have a steady supply of Earl Grey tea, and cream. 

When I woke up this morning, my hair was so bad I laughed out loud. It was pointing straight up and waving.

Today is the day to fill the shoe boxes for Samaritan's Purse, how can that NOT be fun? 
And buy Canadian chocolate for certain people who I'll be seeing in a few days.

My house is quiet.

It's NOT snowing.

I have more books than freckles.

I have a lot of freckles.

I just found out I have TWO pieces of Toblerone left.

Make that none...


I have the King of Heaven on my side, and I know I'm loved.

I'll leave you with one more thing...

*tiny bit of housekeeping duties...and I feel uncomfortable asking this...but you on on the lower right, that 'followers' thingy? If you haven't already, and only if you want to, can you 'follow' this blog? Thanks.

And now I feel all "will you go to the Fall dance with me?"

What happens when I write a blog post when I am SUPER tired...

I am tired.
Tigh yerd.
I woke up at 4am yesterday.
But when I'm writing this it's Tuesday night at 9:20pm.
I'm so tired, I could laugh at a dish towel.
"OH wow, it's COTTON! HAHAHA!"

THAT kind of tired.

So. Okay, up at 4am because I didn't want to sleep through two alarms and 5 snooze buttons to get our youngest to 6am hockey practice.
I know, I KNOW, 6am is INSANE. Try it when it's -20.

SO...we all roll in at 5:30am and wait. The "rink guy" always arrives at 5:30am and lets us in.
So AFTER I suggested a bunch of the boys go sit in Quentin's truck, I went back to my van, turned on the heat and relaxed.
Quentin's dad was all thankful and stuff that I let 5 boys goof off in his truck.
Not really.

And the rink guy? Let's just say he never arrived.

We got home at 6:30am and I crawled back into bed.
I rolled over at 8:30am and hopped out of bed, brushed my teeth and drove down to the hospital for my blood tests. Which were at 8:15am.
Which is when I was alseep. Oops. Asleeep.

I was all in a fluff and lather...liar... I didn't care at all. I took a number and waited with all the other sheep. Once I got my blood sucked out of my arm , I went up to the cafeteria and tried to act cool, but what I really wanted was a trowel to scrape vast quantities of food into my maw, as I hadn't eaten since the night before.
When I saw the line up and the bacon and egg counter, all I could think was "If those people weren't there, I'd just use my hands and scoop up scrambled eggs.

Sooooo. I went to Walmart, bought a few things...must stay awake...then went home. I sat at the computer and made stupid -girl comments on blogs then went back to the hospital for a neck x-ray....must stay awake...then to Costco...must get an ice cream...then home...must stay awake...
Oh, did  mention that the lady who took my paperwork for the x-ray gave me a very sweet, sympathetic smile and said "You should have gone straight to x-ray after your blood work. Didn't they tell you that?"
Now, this lady was very nice.
But I wanted to march down the hall to the blood suckers and yell "I could have been SLEEPING this morning, but, NOOOO, you couldn't figure it out and send me to x-ray??"

But, that doesn't exactly sound all that coherent.
So I didn't.

Because I'm so nice I weep at my niceness.
Not really, but what could I do? Other than whine.

SO. Off to Costco for toilet paper, since between the family of SIX, we had 2 half rolls left and a 2 boxes of Kleenex.
And you just know someone is going to bring home the Mother of all flu bugs...so I bought about 800 rolls at Costco and drive home and fell into the house and oh my...

A fresh cup of Early Grey and a few chunks of well hidden Toblerone, and ahhhh.

Don't worry, I know my kids don't read this. BTW? HAHAHA! It's in the dining room.

Okay, I NEED to get to bed, because I am losing it...

Oh wait...meaningful lesson for today?

Don't eat the foil on the Toblerone.

Breakwaters.

It's been sorta busy around here.

And it's just going to get busier.

So what does a mother of four do, when life kicks into gear and the schedules fill up?

Leaves town. Again.

On the 15, I'll leave for a 12 day research trek through Colorado and New Mexico. That give me 11 days to get A LOT done.

Thankfully, I have earthly and heavenly constants. 


My own personal breakwaters, if you will.

A husband who proves time, and time again, that he is proud of me and supports my writing down to the nth degree. Kids who are proud of me, no matter what I do. 

Even in the calm, my family are all there. 

And a Saviour who gives me the creative skill to write and the opportunities to go and be in the places that I put on a page.

And who reminds me that no matter what happens, He knew about it before I was born.

And the world can go ahead and try to knock me over...

...He is all I need.