Well, I missed my Small Successes post yesterday, but for once it wasn't because I had nothing to post--I just didn't get around to posting. My successes this week were indeed small, but I managed to finish Gemma's birthday sun top at 10:30 the night before her birthday, I made a cake that turned out quite well, and I have started the process of cleaning my workroom and the school room. I am trying to be ruthless in cleaning, but darnit, we need those scores of toilet paper rolls to make a pixillator! And so it is with most of the garbage in my workroom...
Bret picked up tomato plants from the Mennonites this year, but we had no idea what varieties they were. I have no idea what the red ones are, but they seem to be succumbing to blossom-end rot. They taste alright, but the skins are a little tough. The other variety took me by surprise. I think they are heirloom Cherokee Purple Tomatoes. They taste wonderful, but every time I cut into one, I feel like I'm performing an autopsy.
Watched a really good documentary last night from Netflix. It is called, My Flesh and Blood, and it is about a woman named Susan Tom, a single mom who adopted 11 kids with special needs. Talk about total self-negation. She has given 100% of herself to taking care of these kids. I give maybe about 90-95% and really resent at times the fact that I don't have more time for me. It was really good, with one caveat: one of the boys has some anger issues and uses bad language. Not for young kids to watch.
It's so hot. I really don't blame the kids for not wanting to be outside unless the sprinkler is on or the pool filled. It feels like a sauna outside after 10:00 a.m. I don't feel like cooking at all, but unfortunately others feel like eating and I feel obligated to feed them. It's in the job description.
I live in a media void (my thinking is, that if something big is happening, say, a war or the second coming of our Lord, or the plague, or a presidential impeachment, the news will come to me in time), and so when I do get a bit of new--none of it is ever good--it tends to bug me all day long. Today I accidentally stumbled on one of those kids-neglected-and-malnourished-and-living-in-filth-and-feces stories. Parents like that obviously need help--AA or drug rehab or psychiatric care and meds. But even if I am willing to forgive the parents and pray for them, my heart aches for the kids. I have to fight back tears reading stuff like that.
I am getting panic attacks over the enormous number of photos accumulating on the PC. I try to remove these to a memory stick now and then and then I get the best of them printed up. But they are piling up fast with this baby girl...and I am feeling snowed under.
I love this book. Well, not really. But I love the fact that my 9 year-old reluctant reader loves it enough to read it without being ordered to do so. It is the first time ever he has taken the initiative. And for that I am eternally grateful.