the haunted bathroom

These pictures are just to prove that Lewis isn’t always faced with terror and intimidation. In general, he’s got it pretty good. Scuba diving in a beehive crater and off season ski practice at Snogression.

We have a small house. No long dark halls or damp basements. No lurking attic or ominous closets. It’s a shame really, I’d love a shadowy nook or two. All the same, my children are quite able to freak themselves out for a cheap thrill. I like to help out, when I can.

The other night, Lewis, age 11 (which I only mention because he SHOULD have outgrown things like this) refused to use the tiny bathroom off of our living room. He was scared. It’s itty bitty….maybe two by three feet. Matt and I were on the sofa a scant two yards from the ‘haunted’ bathroom.

“Oh please!” I said “there’s not even room for anything scary to fit in there.”

But then I thought about it for a second.

“Actually, a very slender being could wrap itself around the base of the toilet bowl.”

And sometimes in a marriage you have those moments of bright, shining beauty where you realize that soul mates occupy their very own cosmic plane of perfection, because Matt said….

“It could also easily wedge itself up into the ceiling.”

Lewis is just staring at us, about to wet his pants, because he always waits till the very last moment to go.

I nodded.

“And it would just DROP DOWN onto you.” I use arm motions.

“Onto your soul.” adds Matt.

Hello, my peeps. I’m still writing. I am still creating…. still dreaming and scheming. Go here to see my magazine debut. Hope you are all well. We are neck deep with river cavorting and puppydom and the blessings of a summer filled with children. Be well!
the kitchen is now that top color

Hello my Lovelies.

I think that I pretty much have it all figured out.

Thank you for your kind words, your emails, and your phone calls.

I have been dissatisfied with my format for awhile and wanting something sleeker, bigger, better. I didn’t see myself pulling it off and now I do. I have wanted to pull my children out of the focus, and zero in on the heart of the matter.

What the cuss is the heart of the matter?

It’s this.

We have one short life. We need to live it with a grin whenever possible. We need to be our one true self. We need to teach that to our children and be their finest advocate for it. We should laugh and love first, risk and leap without hesitation, and always look squarely at the boogers that like to creep in and well, blow. We should always be learning and push push pushing. We need to stop comparing and offer up our quirks and color and fire.

We should definitely step away from the Joneses.

We need to throw it all on the wall. Our biggest dreams, our niggling fears, our silly desires, our inner child, our old soul. Mistakes and triumphs, both. Throw it and make it stick. Use duct tape if need be.

I’ll be writing about all that. With kids. With dreams. With joy and faith and simplicity…

Are you in?

I’m all in.

I am switching to WordPress which FREAKS ME OUT. I am doing all my own art work, which you haven’t seen so much and will require learning photoshop (huge personal fear of mine). I will have a store with some unique items. I am MOST EXCITED to offer a real live newsletter that comes via snail mail…not to your inbox. Your kids will LOVE it as much as you will.

So that’s where I am, with my big ideas.

I won’t lie, it scares me to death.

I have a goal, and if my evil nemesis, HTML, doesn’t interfere I should be up and running in a month or so.

In the meantime, I’ll keep you posted!



last week

The Georgia cousins came for a visit. We skied and soaked and hung out with the clan at Granne and Grandaddy’s. Have I mentioned that there are LOTS of cousins? The grands are very kid friendly. Do you take Foosball with your tea?
I’m certain that when they designed the closet, they had this, the ultimate fort, in mind.
(there are 5 kids in there hiding)
This photo is not blurry. Hello Pagosa Hot Springs…perfect after a day at Wolf Creek.
We got our fill of the snow and headed to the high desert. We hiked to this Navajo ruin and soaked up the sun.
The boys found this swing and played Della ball…very similar to tether ball.

Lewis said his favorite part was repeatedly busting through this frozen creek bed into the frigid waters.

OK. Now we’re ready for more snow.
They ski hard. And that’s still not enough.
They come home and ‘urban’ in the back yard. That means that they build jumps and ramps and do tricks.
Which may or may not land you right here.
He actually did this up at the mountain and it’s a doozy. After the swelling goes down, he will get a cast, and the good doctor says that he can ski with it. Carefully. 

For now it’s the Peanuts gang and some pampering.

Last week was winter break. It felt like a month, it was so jam packed with work and play and family and fun and a wee bit of calamity. There was a car wreck. Everyone is fine, but the car. We made chai and baked a lot. As usual, there were lots of kids around. The kitchen did not get painted. Hell, it hardly got cleaned. And so on and so forth.

Which brings me to this.

I am signing off.

I have loved this space. I love you, my readers. Until I can figure out how to make this blogging business more of, well, a business…I need to quit dabbling. Does that make sense? Sometimes it feels ridiculously self indulgent. On the other hand, all this writing has shown me my voice and that’s not nothing. It has become my ‘art form of choice’ and I’m wondering if it’s taking away from or contributing to a more financially viable endeavor. In short, it’s a hobby that I can’t afford if it’s not going somewhere that is well defined.  So I am going to be doing some figuring and thinking and brain storming about what it is, if anything, that I have to offer the world via the inter webs.

And I’ll let you know when I figure it all out.

I’ll let you know right here, so don’t unsubscribe.

Thank you for all your words of wisdom and kind thoughts over the years…you are all very dear to me and I will miss you so dang much. I really will.

Big Love Always from me to you,

Your Friend,


I was surfing a new favorite blog and voila. There it was. Sometimes it takes a photo to jell the vision. Max was looking over my shoulder. “You should paint our kitchen that color.” he said.

“Yes, hell, I should. Because this life is not a dress rehearsal.” I said.

It’s the real dang thing.


{My mom would probably call this ‘a wild hair’. Do you have any of those? Wild hairs, I mean. Do tell.}

dear landlord

Dear Landlord,

I am seriously considering painting the kitchen hot pink. Don’t you think that would be awesome? It’s a quick fix that packs a lot of punch. You’ll be blown away, I’m pretty sure. Because you like the room that I did in rainbow, don’t you? And the peacock blue really transformed the laundry closet. And I know you probably hated all that fake panelling that we totally painted over. And the little bathroom was just crying out to be collaged with kid’s art. And I love the whole idea of blood oranges…the fruit, the color, the entrance hall needed that sort of boldness.

Matt painted the exterior. You noticed that, I’m guessing. And if you walk around back,there’s a fun mural on the back of the house. Della painted the mailbox, not me, so feel free to dock her allowance when it comes time to refund our deposit.

Matt also closed in the garage and attached a shed. I hope that’s fine.

So painting the kitchen hot pink is really no big thing.

In truth, it’s a nod towards consistency. I’m doing you a favor.

You’re welcome.

Your loving tenant,


A note about our landlord.
What a sweet heart. He reminds me of my dad. He’s strong and somber.  We’re a little boisterous and always happy to see him and eventually he smiles and shakes his head. He ate dinner the other night after he wrestled a plumbing problem. His quiet just soaking up our high octane. He was over when we ate the snake. I think he knows me well enough to expect the kitchen to be something other than boring sage green. I’d like to be a fly on the wall when the next set of tenants move in and speculate on what sort of crack-head gypsies preceded them.

I have only one thought on it all.

It beats beige.