Skye’s new schedule will begin on the 30th, and until then, I’m savoring the time with my little flower-power tomboy.

Am I ever.

*”Timestamped” idea from Bethany Beasley, who blogs here.

I promise.  I did have a post planned – one that adequately and reverently addressed the glory of this most Hopeful of Holidays in the Christian faith.

But in the end, I was too happy to be serious, and by the time I sat down to write this, I realized it would have to be fairly casual anyway by the time I got to the dinner pictures – church clothes had long been exchanged for running gear (us) and PJs (Skye).

So, on this Day of the Resurrection -  He is Risen! – I decided to embrace my inner 70s child that is really never very far away.

Subtitles thanks to England Dan & John Ford Coley.  They said it way better than I could have:

Name your price – A ticket to paradise…
I can’t stay here any more – And I’ve looked high and low.
I’ve been from shore to shore to shore.
If there’s a short cut I’d have found it -But there is no easy way around it.
Light of the world, shine on me…

Love is the answer.
Shine on us all -

Set us free -
Love is the answer.

And when you feel afraid – Love one another…
When you’ve lost your way – Love one another…
And when you’re all alone, Love one another…
And when you’re far from home -

Love one another.
And when you’re down and out – Love one another.
And when your hopes run out – Love one another
And when you need a friend…

Love one another.

Happy Easter, Everybody.

Peace, Out.

Though our house is *messy and unsettled*, and there are lingering problems with heat and hot water that make living difficult – I’m seeing a glimpse of order in the chaos. 

But the most important things have been and are here with me. As I look back over these last silent 30 days of cold showers and perpetually cold feet and hands – that’s what I choose to remember.

Until next time, Sweetheart.

I see you in a whole new light now, and it makes it even harder to say goodbye.

My Grandmother Peggy and Grandfarmer Armour bought it in 1941, I believe. They bought it because their first-born, my dad, was born in October of that year, just a few weeks before we were thrown into WWII as a nation.  Interesting times, to be sure.

Solidly made* of maple (the two ends) and poplar (the two sides), my Aunt Sara also used it about 5 years later.

In 1969, I used it. And Armour followed in December of ’75.

Dad shipped it to me a little over a month ago…its lead-based paint a “must-remove”…

…but the lustre of the beautiful natural wood beneath the layers of paint (our restorer found multiple layers beneath the white – a pale salmon pink and a powder blue) only needed a slight stain that mimicked the maple’s color and that came alive with a burnish achieved by lots of elbow grease and a soft cloth. (Thanks, Neil!)

I love furniture that has a history.

I love that Skye will grow up in it, too.

And I love that Neil found teethmarks that he didn’t remove.

*…for concerned readers, please know that this crib meets all up-to-date safety standards – turns out that the balls are safe because they rotate…and the slats are within the limits of what is allowable in cribs manufactured today.  We would NEVER place our girl in danger. I guess they were onto something 70 years ago!  ;)

I love that I can take no credit for how beeYOOtiful my baby is. Means I can say “she’s gorgeous” as much as I want.

By now, the news is out. We are parents. We brought Skye Rebecca home on the 20th of August. She’s named for our favorite place on Earth, and for Becky, her birthmother.

Being parents of a newborn at this stage in our lives is, on the one hand, surreal (many of our colleagues will be grandparents by the time our daughter starts 5th grade) but on the other, so satisfying – and honestly? It’s the perfect time for us. My mother-in-law likes to remind me that “God’s timing is perfect” and she couldn’t be more correct in this instance.

She’s everything we knew we wanted, and everything we didn’t know we needed.

* Feeding Skye, 0430 hrs. Spectre keeps watch.

A day we’ll remember forever.

Here we are at tonight’s Rays’ Game:

And to top it all off? The Rays won.

He is wandering around the house “looking for things I can help you with, Hol.”

This behavior makes me nervous.

Case in point: He found the stash of wedding pictures that I Still. Haven’t. Made. Into. An. Album.

We got married nearly eight years ago, People. (I know.  Please don’t judge me.)

You know, we had a great wedding. It was a small wedding, but I cannot think of a single person up until that time who was alive and who was an important part of our lives who wasn’t there to share our day.  It was the kind of wedding you wait for a long time, but know you waited for the right person…all of us were relaxed, full of laughter, and nobody got too crazy.

Here’s a pic John sent me for the album. “Me-n-my girls” were vamping for the camera, when we spotted this clown (I kid you not) walking up the main street. I got married in Manitou Springs, which has that delightful crunchy vibe that I absolutely love. So, we looked at each other and figured we ought to wave our Freak Flags right along with him.

Because we had the world’s most easygoing photographers, when I asked the clown to join us, Becky just took it in stride…and snapped what is one of my favorite pictures of the day:

But the man who really brought the house down?

Had to be my dear “Godfather,” Rusty Sachs…an irreverent, brilliant, hilarious Marine who speaks fluent French, has impeccable taste and bearing, and who has been a fixture in my life since I’ve been alive. He and his entire family are…well, Family.

Rusty agreed to marry us, and my request was for him to use free license when he wrote our vows. I have a copy of them somewhere – but one of my favorite lines, which Rusty delivered in the most serious tone after warning John that he was not marrying some “piece of common chattel,” was

“Do you, Holly, take John, to your wedded husband –

- in Flowers and in Weeds…in Freezing and in Swelter?”

Yeah, I couldn’t keep a straight face, either.

I just love that guy. And I love Rusty, too.