Wordless Wednesday

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The Simple Woman's Daybook

FOR TODAY . . . May 15, 2012

Outside my window . . . is Knoxville again. Hopefully this is the last trip for a little while. I like the time with dh, and the change of scenery is nice, but the drive here and back in less than 24 hours is getting a little old.


I am thinking . . . about the good conversation dh and I have on these trips. It's easier to think clearly and focus on topics when the distractions are limited.


I am thankful . . . that we are almost to summer time! It's really our last summer with kids. Ds graduates from high school on Saturday and our daughter is already in college (here in town). Summer will never look quite the same again.


In the kitchen . . . I've stocked the freezer with meat, poultry, and fish, so my focus is mostly on side dishes. And with the warmer months ahead that means LOTS of salads.

I am wearing . . . comfy yoga pants and a big tie dyed t-shirt for driving home.

I am creating . . . several different crochet projects. You can see them here. 

I am going . . . to focus on the house/laundry today. I think I'm about ready to resurrect FlyLady!

I am wondering . . . about brainwashing. My dh and counselor both describe the negative messages in my head as brain washing by the abusers. It's gotten me thinking that regardless of what it's called, I want to work on breaking that cycle.

I am reading . . . still working on Garden Spells, but it seems that my pile of want to reads is growing.

I am looking forward to . . .  getting all the graduation hoopla behind us. We are not big ceremony people, so all this pomp and circumstance just feels stressful, not celebratory.

I am hearing . . . hotel and interstate noise.

Around the house . . . dd cleaned the house for me as my Mother's Day gift! What a terrific gift it was, too!


I am pondering . . .  the fun trip dh and ds are leaving for after graduation. They are heading out west for hiking, rock climbing, and site seeing. I know they are going to have such a terrific time (but I'm going to miss them, too!)

One of my favorite things . . . the new earrings ds gave me for Mother's Day. They are mushrooms he got at the Renaissance Fair.

A few plans for the rest of the week . . . graduation and getting the boys off on their trip.


Here is a picture for thought I am sharing . . . 

Yolie -- my travelling companion

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Made by You Monday -- New Projects

I don't have anything completed this morning, but I thought I'd show you the latest in-process projects. There's lots of hooky goodness going on, but we are also beginning graduation week for my son. He graduates on Saturday from high school, and later that day, husband and he leave for two weeks of hiking and rock climbing out west.


Project #1 --
a girly afghan for the nine year old daughter of a friend. I'm using this pattern but with only 3 colors.

Project #2 --
a summer weight scarf in some cotton leftovers. Just because.

Project #3 --
a summer weight shawl for me, because it's been a while since I made anything just for moi. I got this yarn on sale from Craftsy. It's cotton and it's my first 2 strand project.

So there you go. Happy Monday everyone and I'll see you next week.


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May Joy Dare #2

"Enter the password: 'Thank you!" . . . Thank Him. Worship Him!

--Psalm 100:4

May 8th --3 gifts in a closet

1. order out of chaos

2. a white shirt

3. knowing where to put my 
husband's scuba gear

May 9th -- 3 gifts found in the dark

1. trust in my husband

2. grief that leads to knowledge

3. rest

May 10th - a gift outside, inside, upside down

1. cool morning air -- it's been unseasonably warm,

so this is a double blessing

2. a wonderful last Bible study for the spring
3. compassion from others who have 
suffered struggles

May 11th -- 3 gifts about your parents

1. an affinity for literature, theater, and film

2. intellectual curiosity

3. learning to stand up for myself

May 12th -- 3 gifts held in hand today

1. a mug of English breakfast tea

2. a new crochet project

3. iced Chai latte

May 13th -- 3 gifts found in your mother

1. Milk Salad

2. a love of cooking

3. creativity

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Weekend Linkup -- Everything Changes

Yesterday I spent some time working through another episode from my childhood. This is the first one, I'm pretty sure. I am 4-years-old and staying with my great-grandmother while my parents are at work. It's a sunny spring day. My great-grandmother lived with my paternal grandparents. We called her Nur (nuh). My grandmother was Dee and my grandfather was Da. There was one other occupant in the house, Aunt Ruth. Ruth was Nur's deceased husband's aunt, who had raised him after his parents died. Ruth lived in the house because no one else would have her, and Nur has promised Gram (her husband) that she would care for her.

Ruth's life story would take up at least a week's worth of blogs. We'll get to that later. Suffice it to say, the family saying was, "She's too mean to die!" But I digress, this is my story.

Nur was hanging laundry on the line in the backyard. It was a load of sheets. She is hanging large white flat sheets with her back to me. I am sitting on the back stoop playing with my doll, Dahlia (daylia). Dahlia and I were inseparable. It is very warm and sunny on the porch. I carefully place Dahlia sitting on the step and go into the house. I am headed to the bathroom, when out of nowhere I am struck in the face by the back of Ruth's hand. The next thing I know, I am lying on the floor looking at the rocker on Ruth's chair. She is leaning over me and yelling. Her face is contorted and she is shaking her finger at me. I know she is talking to me, but at first I can't make out the words. She says something about that Lucile (Nur) woman. It's my fault she says. If hadn't . . . what? She grabs my arm and hauls me up. Don't tell anyone. They won't believe you. You're a liar. She shoves me toward the door leading to the rest of the house.

I wander to the bathroom. I want to see my face in the mirror, but I am too short. I am sure I look like a different person. I use the bathroom. Now I am stuck. I want out of the house, but to get out I'll have to walk by Ruth again. How can I keep from making her mad again when I don't know what I did the first time? I settle into the corner behind the bathroom door. If I stay, Nur will worry about me and come looking. Maybe she'll be mad too. I reach for the doorknob and turn it slowly. I peek out into the hallway. I don't see anyone. I can hear the TV from the den. Ruth is watching wrestling. She loves it. I slowly creep out of the bathroom and into the hallway. Tiptoe into the kitchen very carefully, listening, watching. I make my way to the den door and peer around. Ruth is still in her chair, focused on the TV. I edge around the door frame and keep as close to the far side of the room as possible. I never take my eyes off Ruth and she never looks at me. Finally I am passed her chair and the back door is in sight. I make a dash for it, flinging open the screen door. I am safe! I have made it to the stoop. Everything looks the same. Nur is still hanging out sheets. Dahlia is sitting on the step waiting for me. The sun is shining and a warm breeze is blowing, but nothing is the same. It is all different.

I pick up Dahlia and go sit in the shadowed corner between the stoop and the house. What did I do?

link up at Write on Edge

{this moment}

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

for more moments visit SouleMama

Five Minute Friday -- Identity

For years my identity was based on family connections.
Growing up, I was my father's daughter -- the second one. He was well known and well liked (as far as I knew), so there were worse people to be. The stress came from needing to be perfect so as not to disappoint him. I worked hard to say the right things, think the right things, be interested in the right things, do the right things. A lot of my struggle and confusion came from not knowing who determined the "rightness" of everything.
Later I became my husband's wife. I moved from my father's house to "our" house, but I was still playing a role. Trying to be the model wife I saw growing up, and at the same time trying to be the wife I thought my husband wanted me to be. It was tough trying to merge what turned out to be somewhat opposing pictures.
Then I became their mother. First my daughter -- a precocious red head. Then my son -- the premature, squalling baby. Everyone seemed to think I could read these babies' minds. If there was a problem or discord, I was supposed to know what was wrong and fix it. I couldn't do it.
Eventually all that striving caught up with me. I shut down. 
I went to talk to a counselor.
I found out I had to quit hiding behind other peoples' lives and live my own. 
It meant digging through some really nasty rubble.
It took thinking that rubble was my identity for a while to get to where I am now.
The truth is, my identity is made up of all those things that I survived, all the people who have walked through my life, all the people who have stayed in my life.
My identity is who I am today -- a child of God, a survivor of abuse, a wife, a mother, a daughter, a friend. Not different people, but pieces of one whole person.


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