Skip to main content

Camping Out

I wore the covers off the Little House on the Prairie books when I was a kid. Much of my pretend was informed by the trek that Ma and Pa made across the prairie with Laura and Mary and Carrie in tow. My sister and I turned the picnic table into a makeshift covered wagon complete with Pet and Patty, our trusty saw horses. I loved the way Ma could turn a grassy campsite into a home complete with a vase of flowers and freshly ironed linens.

The reason for this trip down memory lane?


Our kitchen sink has been removed to make room for...

...this new and improved model.
I'm thankful for the years spent at Grandpa's summer bootcamp where I learned that dishwashers are for sissies. Grandpa's dishwashing rules: Fill the tub with scalding water. Hotter! Hotter! Glassware first, silverware next, plates and finally the pots and pans.

Lauren and John dry. They've never been to Grandpa's Bootcamp. Grandpa would roll over in his grave if he knew that these two whippersnappers are playing Jenga with the clean dishes.

Comments

Sarah said…
Nice sink Kate! Can't wait to see the real, modern thing installed. The kids appear to be having way too much fun doing dishes.

sem
I had to laugh at the reference to Little House on the Prairie! I too, wore out my set of books. What's so funny is that my mom arrived last night from a vacation of visiting all of the sites where Laura lived, and we are going to look at all the pictures this morning. I'll be thinking of you...

Xandra

Popular posts from this blog

Finding Rest: Part Two (Scroll down three posts to read this story from the beginning)

Why share such a personal story ? I share it because I have talked to enough women to know that underneath the makeup and the matching outfits and the small talk that make up our exteriors, we are a broken people. To pretend otherwise creates isolation. Thoughtful honesty creates closer relationships and greater understanding. When we share the way God works in the difficult things of life it encourages first oneself and then others. For some of us, the pieces have been patched and restored and there is wholeness where there was none before. But some of us are walking wounded, barely hanging on and wondering if there is hope. We have a choice. We can either be completely shattered by bitterness, depression and anger or we can lay the fragments before the One who can take the sharp slivers and jagged pieces and create a beautiful, productive life. Here is the conclusion to John's story. When John was ten, he was sullen and moody and difficult and so was I. But I was no longer proud.

4-H Exhibits-Updated

Update: Blue ribbons all around! 4 of our projects will go onto the state fair. John's headboard exceeds size limitations and so we will lug it home tomorrow. We are relieved. That thing is heavy! ************* For the past few weeks we have been busy sewing, sawing, quilling and painting 4-H projects. The kids have been in 4-H for about a month and they started with a bang. The annual 4-H fair is tomorrow. So this morning we loaded these projects and four kids wearing slippers into the car. The fifth one had sense enough to wear flip-flops. (The other four complained as we pulled out of the driveway that their feet were sweating.) John reclining against the headboard that he built with Stuart. He wrote the 10 Commandments of Table Saw Safety to accompany this project. Claire's quilling project. Lauren modeling the apron that she sewed. Lauren and the dog painting she has been working on in art class for the past few months. Faith and her quilling project. So now

Aviary Amphitheater (Wordless? Wednesday)

We're slow starters in the morning. The children lie on the sofas and read. Charlie sits and eats a graham cracker and a bowl of yogurt at the table before breakfast. Lauren and I take turn cooking oatmeal, or muffins, or scones... We eat somewhere between ten and eleven. Today, in the midst of all this leisure, the house became exceptionally quiet and I went to figure out why because "too quiet" is never a good thing. Except that it was today. I peeked out the living room window into the backyard and found five chairs and five children lined up on the patio. I opened the door and everybody shushed me. "Hush, Mama. We're watching the birds. Come sit with us" Six or seven hummingbirds were zipping around the feeder, frantic to fill their little gas tanks before they migrate. The children were silent, heads tipped up, eyes squinting against the morning light. I went in to get the camera. I took a few pictures of the children but could not capture the hyperacti