Saturday, 31 January 2015

Storm Days

In good earnest, Landon read that 'blessed are the pancake makers, for they shall be called children of God.'

And on a week of storm after storm, surely this is true.

xo Stay warm!


Friday, 23 January 2015

If You Listen

Waiting in the car with children is a rare privilege. Forced to sit with the small people, who are strapped down and always a hair's breadth away from melt down, you really have to give it everything.

You sing songs.

E; "Can we please sing that song about Tinkerbells around God's throne?"

"Do I know that one?"

E: "Yes! Pastor Cowan was talking about it at church!"

You tell stories. Which of course, revolve around fairies and a prince. Every. Time.

"So once there was a sad girl who worked at Sobeys. One day, she was sorting cucumbers and she heard a voice...."

E: "She turned around and saw her prince. Eating grapes."

You talk about books.

"Isn't one of the witches good, and one of them bad or something?"

T: "Witches!"

"And what does Dorothy do to the bad one?"

T: "Witches!"

"Were they scary?"

T: "Yeah. Witches!"

And of course we eat candy.

T: "Lollipop."

And the way she says it is cute enough to carry us all the way home.


Wednesday, 21 January 2015

First Things First

Firsts are scary. And terrific. And one of my very favourite things.

First time riding a ferry at night. First time riding a ferry through ice.

First time listening to an old man play accordion to a flock of tired commuters.

First time for riding a city bus, which is a challenge at the best of times...

A first time for sitting on the back of a toboggan that's flying down an ice chute.

Also the first time I thought my life would end by bouncing off and drowning in the St. Lawrence.

First time standing in mist at below freezing temperatures. Oh - so below freezing.

First time smiling through teeth chatter.

First time for buying art off the street, while the seller surrounds me in a puff of cigarette smoke.

First time for getting so excited about a fireplace in a deserted courtyard.

First time hearing the New Year's Countdown in French. That apartment balcony looked like fun.

First time being chased out of the Citadel by a grumpy soldier, tired of tourists.

First time eating Maple Syrup creme brulee.

First time meeting a friend for several days, and then parting ways in a city neither of us know.

Firsts were done. Memories made.

xo ~Liv

Friday, 9 January 2015

One Year Down...

The best way to bring in the New Year is with the moments from last.

We opened the Good Times box when I got back from away; marveling at how many slips of paper fell out from the longest of hard years.

Yet there it all is, in black and white, the goodness of our Lord.

In March, Trinity is recorded to say, "meow." Now she tells us long stories.

Three different people wrote to mark the occasion of Dad bringing roses. This was clearly a high point.

We talked about little girls smiling while they danced and Landon writing the "Pappy book." Caiah reading, reading, reading "The Spooky Old Tree." A themed dinner party or two,

Someone thanked God for the power being out.  Another for it coming on. We each are at different stages.

And none of it's big, but none of it's small. How did we get here? One moment at a time, which is all God asks.

 Mom dumped the bits of paper and napkin into a bag to stuff away and there the box sits again, empty.

Every year we wonder what we could ever find to fill it...but God always gives us enough.

Happy 2015, Friends!


Monday, 5 January 2015

Once Upon a Time

Last snowed in Sunday, we accidentally became reminiscent  over old homemade newspapers, paper dolls and a cassette tape.

The first were a study in early computer experimentation, complete with cut and paste clip art.

The paper dolls were more artistically creative, as well as a frightening look at how many children a ten year old considers realistic to birth.

And then there was the unmarked tape, which contains all seven scenes of "The Coughing Closet Case," plus an epilogue.

Of course, it is amusing. Our squeaky, little girl voices raised in giggles. The story is also a little alarming. At one point our 'mother' urges us to go back to sleep. Even if there is a spy in the closet, "the door is locked and you will be safe until morning."

It's also a mini-study in sibling dynamic. I was given to introducing far fetched story elements, or verbal tangents that included what dresses our characters would wear to school tomorrow. Abi had final word on the plot twists which survived and developed. Millie on the other hand, once feebly tried to introduce a mysterious floor creak, and was promptly brushed off by the rest of us. "You probably squeaked it yourself."

But things change and we change, and in the end, the only fact the held true was the end. After a conclusion which involved making a charitable donation to the army; we finished with the most churched of all touches. A warbling, poorly harmonized version of the three fold amen.

It's totally not normal. And for some reason, it felt just right.

xo ~Liv