Thursday, February 24, 2011
I can't even remember when we started this series. Summer? What I do know is that the kids have been hooked from day one.
So tonight, as we settled in to read, Harper asks,
"Mom, is this a series you would choose to read on your own?"
"What do you mean? I did choose it."
"No. Would you read it without us? Like, alone."
"Ohhh. I get it. Yes, it's something I would read by myself."
"But, well, you chose to share it . . . you know, read it to us, like, together . . . instead of well, keeping it to yourself, like, you know-"
"Harper, are you trying to say thank-you?"
"You're welcome. This is my favorite activity of the day. Reading to you both."
And THAT is why I continue to read aloud to my 10 year old.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
This post could be titled "duh". Move along. Nothing to see here.
We all know I'm a coffee addict.
My husband is aware of it.
My kids see my daily need for coffee.
My blog is my online coffee shop where I chat about everything.
I'm not hiding anything.
But, why the post about it?
Cause, all joking aside, I really am addicted to coffee. Going on 20 years now. It was post-college when I truly joined the coffee craze and shops starting springing up like weeds. Really tasty weeds.
Just as a smoker craves to hold a cigarette between their fingers, I too crave the warmth on my hands that only comes from cradling a steaming cup of comfort. Sometimes I don't even want to drink it, but rather, hold it, for my addiction is also a tactile one.
During a morning power outage yesterday I was thankful that George had already fired up the Keurig and passed me my morning glory. For a brief moment I had an internal discussion as to what I would have done if the outage had happened earlier, thus making him unable to power up the machine that brews crutch.
How much do I drink? Really, not much. (And that statement just screams denial. Does it not?)
Three. Maybe, four cups a day - one of them, sadly, decaf. I realize that this doesn't sound like much. Only, coffee is the FIRST thing I think about when I wake in the morning.
Honestly, I can NOT quit anytime I want, for I don't want to quit.
Right now, the biggest issue with my java jubilee is that I don't drink enough water. Which comes back to bite me, as I'm currently doing this. Working out hard without proper hydration sucks the life out of me, and not even caffeine can bring it back.
So, here I sit, typing my admission to you.
My name is Joline and I am a javaholic.
Now, enough of this silliness. It's already 10:00 AM and I've not yet had my second cup yet.
Well, don't just sit there. Chop chop.
Monday, February 14, 2011
The gift, once given, is no longer yours to control. If you give someone something, do so openly and freely, otherwise, what's the point? If you're not giving joyously, but to control the people around you, it's time to reassess.
It's not as if this idea is a new one to me. But this quote does a great job summing up a belief I've held for years but have been unable to communicate as well. Sure, we've all heard the cliche "no strings attached". Those strings insinuate CONTROL - like a puppet on a string.
When we give, and then treat the givee as a marionette, we've not actually given a gift 'tall. Think about it.
I'm still giving as I shared with you I would. Whether it be tithing, putting change in our Christmas jar, placing aside clothing, shoes, and household goods for Good Will drop-offs, picking up items at the store for friends or running their errands, donating cosmetics and personal products to the women's shelter, etc. I have traded my, "How much cash can I get for this?" for "Who could use this?"
And trust me. I could use the cash!
I've had great examples to guide me. When I look around my house, every room has an item that has been graciously given to me. Without those puppet strings.
So, I do the same.
Lighten the load for someone else when you have the opportunity. Heck, it could be as simple as picking up a loaf of bread for a neighbor.
Simple gifts translate into full hearts.
Trust me. My heart runneth over.