notes from my window-corners
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I wait for the LORD, my soul waits,
and in his word I put my hope.
My soul waits for the Lord
more than watchmen wait for the morning,
more than watchmen wait for the morning.
Psalm 130 5-6
Baked Oatmeal:
1/3 c oil
1/4 c butter
2 tsp baking powder
1/3 c sugar
1/3 c brown sugar
1tsp salt
1 1/2 c milk
1 tsp vanilla
4c oats
3/4 chopped apples
combine at night. put in a 9×13 panl next morning, bake @ 350 for 30-40 minutes.
So. Here’s some knews. (Yes, I know.) My sweet husband-boy is hurted. His arms have been hurting off and on for about a year…with progressing severity. He has \ started physical therapy, and made some changes in his office environment (chair height, back support, new keyboard…) but it appears that these steps were too little, too late. Last Friday, while he was working, a blood vessel burst in his hand. We learned (at the twp-hundred-dollar-a-pop, walk-in, after-hours clinic) that the fancy word for that is hematoma. Wheee. Anyway…his boss (wisely) asked him not to come back until he’s consulted with (another) orthopedic doctor…and the soonest we could get in to see one is the 24th. It turns out that RSI (repetitive strain injury) is pretty serious…his first therapist suggested a full month off work…we shall see. We’re going to transfer him to a “hand specialist” therapist…hopefully get him all better. Right now, he can’t use a computer at all, drive, pick up the kids, close/open jars….you get the picture.
Anyhow. We’d gratefully accept any prayers and/or new sets of hands you’d like to send our way.
Also, baby girl is sick.
Next time, I shall post something happier.
So, I was sitting at the table with Maya the other day, when we had the following conversation.
Maya: (staring intently at her arm) Mommy, I have lots of skers on my arm.
Me: (slightly puzzled) Skers?
Maya: Yes
Me: What’s a sker?
Maya: A *sker* Mommy.
Me: Maya, I have no idea what you are talking about.
Maya: You know (motions to face), like a mouse or a cat has.
Me: (light dawning) Do you mean whiskers?
Maya: Yes. Whiskers. I have whiskers on my arms. Whiskers are like little hairs.
Okay, so this isn’t the spanking post. If any of you are dying of curiousity about my feelings/opinions about spanking, you are welcome to email me. I was really motivated there for awhile to write it all out in a big (and of course, fascinating, riviting, convincing) post, but I just don’t feel like it anymore. Instead, here are a couple of fantastic pictures of my kids at the beach. Way more fun than talking about spanking, for sure.
