The Fields of Home

So I finally got a new template. No, I didn't make it. But if we were going to wait for Anna to figure out how to do that on her own, we were going to wait a long (long) time. And I don't know about you, but I'm ready for something other than blah generic-ness. Yay pretty flowers!

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I was about to go to bed after I finished choosing/uploading the new layout. Then my foot fell asleep. Painfully. Asleep. So I'm sort of stuck here until it comes to life again, and I might as well write a post, yes? Yes. 

Home is amazing. Today is amazing. I worked a productive hour on my poetry paper, and killed a psychotic wasp, and chose balance instead of perfection, and baked chocolate-coconut-pecan-cherry oatmeal cookies, and re-worked a poem. A good day. A Very Good Day.

Ms. Ann - one of my mother's old college friends - drove over for Thanksgiving and I am glad, because she is one of the most entertaining people I know. When she called today, she had just (accidentally) washed her hair with the dog's shampoo (it smells like green apples, though, so disaster averted). And these things are every day events in her life, and that is why I like her so much. She attracts bizarre people, events and situations. All the time. And yet she still laughs, and often. And brings us pumpkin bread. 

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I made my family watch Lars and the Real Girl last night, and they liked it too, and that made me happy. Tomorrow night: Mystery Science Theatre 3000 - Santa Conquers the Martians. 

What? What is this? Is it possible - that I can actually watch movies again without a) thinking of all the work I have to do, b) obsessively applying different schools of literary criticism to every scene, or c) falling asleep. 

In other news: last week, Erin and I gave all our friends Puritan names. It started as a joke in Prayership, and evolved into an absorbing game. Soon I found myself naming everything that crossed my path. You should try it too, with this link (thanks, Erin!). I'll be referring to it in a few years for my ten denim-suited children. "Prudence! Get off the roof! And Mercy, stop hitting Justice!"

And now I need bed badly, because the babies (alright, they're eight and six) are coming tomorrow - i.e., my two hell-raisin' little cousins David and Josh, who will drain every ounce of energy out of my weary bones. Good thing I love them. And I have a plan, which basically involves running around outside until they (or I) fall down. Of course, these are the cousins who proclaim, "We don't like outside!" Onto Plan B: Banister sliding. 

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Draw my soul to Thee, my Lord,

Make me love Thy precious Word!

Bid me seek Thy smiling face,

Willing to be saved by grace.

Dearest Jesus, bid me come -

let me find Thyself my home.