It is Finished: My husband delivered a few meditations at our Good Friday service yesterday, and as I sat there with my three fussing children, crayon wrappers littering the aisle, the smell of a poopy diaper wafting through the air, I listened passionately to the words he shared with the congregation. And then, tears began to
Let’s talk about how to pay off debt. I remember reading in one of Dave Ramsey’s financial guidance books that if people are making fun of your car, you’re probably in the right spot with your debt payoff. Well, the ‘ol van is broken down and sitting in our driveway (in true trashy fashion). It’s
Dear mother at the grocery store, I’m sorry for judging you when your child broke down at the register because you wouldn’t let him have a candy bar. I’ve now been there, tears and all. Screw those dang racks of crap they line the checkout lines with. Dear mother with the messy house, I’m sorry
Man. Man, oh man, oh maaaan. Do I love my husband’s beard. I know. Not everyone out there is a beard-lovin’ woman, I just happen to be one of them. I think my love for beards first came from my love of Ray LaMontagne, a singer who continues to pull at my heart strings with
For those who are new, this ‘Why We Homestead’ series is being written by my delicious husband Stuart. To catch part one of the series, read Why We Homestead, Part One. Why We Homestead, Part Two: Scratching An Itch On a Spring morning, the light from the sun’s rays separate as they crest Jump-off Ridge.
A quick note: Most of you know about my insanely handsome and wonderful husband, Stuart. He may not make an appearance on the blog as often as beard-loving-women would hope, but know he’s always behind the scenes encouraging, advising, and working on the homestead. I’ve asked him to do a short series of posts with me
When Daddy’s away, Mama takes a 20 minutes car ride into town for overpriced lattes all too often. And when Daddy’s away, the eggs don’t get collected for days on end because it’s never the most pressing task at hand. When Daddy’s away, Mama texts him “S.O.S.” too many times in a 24 hour span.
Let’s talk greenhouses. Rather, let’s talk about how to build a greenhouse. I’ve dreamed of them as long as I can remember – lusting after not only the practical aspect of protected and extended growing, but also the beauty. For some reason, I think of old European homes with vined in green houses tucked onto the back
A homesteading Mama ain’t your typical Mama. Instead of diamonds and pearls, most of us have our mind focused on seasonal produce, bountiful garden baskets, and the latest electric fence tester. Hence this top 10 gifts for a farm lovin’ mama. I know. I know. It’s a pretty romantic life. I’ve been secretly stashing away
Seven years ago, I walked into a bar with a very unfamiliar bridal party. Even though I was the florist for the wedding and was good friends with the bride in college, the rest of the girls were strangers to me. Sure, we’d spent the day lounging around a pool together and were all coordinated