I have forgotten to let you know who was the winner of the last Give-Away. The answer to the question regarding my foot apparel is “I was wearing pink fluffy slippers–NOT THONGS!! 🙂 ) You could see them reflected on the side of one of the pots on the stove. I sent this Give-Away out to Natalie from California. It is a little caddy for holding four pint-sized Mason Jars. I imagine four of my favorite jams cutely tucked into each corner, however, since Natalie is from California, she may use it for her four favorite fresh salsas. Also included was a tea-towel and some canning labels. I have another one just like it (except it will hold the wide-mouthed jars), so stay tuned for the next Give-Away (tea towels and labels also included.) I meant to get both of these out during canning season, but I guess I was too busy canning.
And now for the Ramblings.
The next book for My Whit’s End Book Club is “The Education of Little Tree” by Forrest Gump–just kidding, by Forrest Carter. You still have time to order, borrow, beg, or check out a copy of this book. Unlike “Out of Africa” it is written in the colloquial–not the classical. You will smile often, frown despondently, laugh spontaneously, shake your head sadly, and yep, you might shed a tear at the thoughts and happenings of a six-year-old Cherokee boy. This book could be summed up with the quote, “Out of the mouths of babes.” I hope you will come along to the back-woods and hollers of Tennessee. You can put your toes in the same Spring Branch and pick berries right along side of Little Tree and his Grandpa and Grandma. We might even cook up some Moonshine, git to meet The Law, and give them City-Slickers a tour of the holler.
One last rambling before I got to bed. A good friend of mine by the name of Jackie has been posting short video clips of her boy growing up. The video clips are set to some great music, and I get all gooey-eyed, and soft, and filled with love for her “boy turned man”, and in love with the wonderful role of being a mom. I see how quickly Jackie’s boy became a man, and I get a wave of emotional-ness about my role as a mom. The wave becomes a flood of generous feelings towards my kiddos and cascades into heart-felt vows of never, Ever, EVER yelling at them again, or saying, “I’m too busy right now,” or brushing them aside. I want to just cherish every moment, and sit on the couch and read to them, and let them cook with me, and listen to all their hopes and dreams and silly thoughts. Then the 10 and 8 year olds start arguing. The 4-year-old steps on my bare toes with her very hard tap shoes, and the 1 years old dumps out the Crayola box of 96 crayons for the second time that morning. The plug has been pulled on all my dreamy love. I can hear it going down the drain. A typical day at My Whit’s End sets in.
Real life sets in. Real love (as compared to dreamy love) takes over, and I pick up the 96 crayons, but this time put them out of reach. Life with the kiddos is not dreamy or etherial or vague. It is full of real bumps, lots-a noise, and sticky popsicle kisses.
Enjoy your ride.
As Eloise says, jum. jum. (Which loosely translates, “I hope you miss me a little until we met again, but other than that please have a very nice day.)
P.S. You can order “The Education of Little Tree” by clicking on this link.The Education of Little Tree: A True Story