Here I am again, blogging in the car. It appears to be my preferred method at the moment. We still don’t have the internet at home, so among other things this means that I can’t see the comments on my last post. So if there were any particular questions that I’m not answering, don’t take it as an uppity silence . . . it’s just me being blissfully out of touch with the rest of the world. And why don’t we have the internet? Don’t ask – it’s a long and painful tale of trying to get service in a socialist country when you have to get the government phone agency to hook up your phone and they don’t feel like they can be bothered with it. I’ll spare you the gory details – no one really likes to sympathize with other people’s tales of being on hold for hours and no one returning their phone calls. So suffice it to say, we’re working on this whole project and in the postmillennial vision you will one day hear from me from my living room and not the minivan.
But right now it’s dark and we’re parked just outside the gates of Tom Tower, Christ Church. It’s pouring rain and there are huddled groups of soggy students hurrying along the pavement under their umbrellas, those Continue reading ‘Drive by blogging’
A few weeks ago I was wearing a maternity tank top Heather loaned me that says across the front, “I can grow people.” My barely three year old daughter said “Mama, what’s that say?”
I told her, she thought about it for a second and then said “Hmm. Mine says I can make coffee too.”
I’m going to take an opportunity to plug ye ol’ husband and his book, Leepike Ridge. Have you bought it yet? If not, click here now, right away. Makes a good Christmas gift. And pre-order 100 Cupboards while you’re at it.
There’s an interview up today on a site called Novel Journey. I’m posting an excerpt below which paints a good picture of a typical day in the life of the Nate Wilson people.
Novel Journey: Can you give us a view into a typical day of your writing life?
NDW: Well, it’s not exactly normal. Continue reading ‘Leepike Ridge’
The other night I stopped into JoAnn Fabrics to snag another pack of black ric-rac. As it turned out, the size I needed (medium, not jumbo), had been bought out. When I made my way up to the counter with a couple other things, I was the only person in sight except the cashier, so I asked her if she had any reserve stashes stuck in a drawer or something. She happily took me over to look, and while we were gone on our fruitless mission, another woman came to the counter, and set her stuff down. At least she set down everything she could, but the life-size scarecrow she held at her side like a staff. Well, IÂ still needed to pay for the twill tape I was buying, so I had to walk up right behind her to finish my transaction. What I am saying is that it was just a touch closer than you would usually stand to a stranger in a store. She was unashamed. Unashamed, and stern. Stern, and standing cheek to cheek with a scarecrow. Then the conversation struck up.
Lady: “I saw you the other week.”
Me: “oh”
Lady: “At the resteraunt.”
Me: “oh?”
Lady: “You have two little girls.”
Me: “Yes, we do.”
Lady (with a very poignant look at my belly): ” I was thinking about how close they are together.”
Me: “Yes, they are… And, what makes it all funnier is that this time we are having twins.”
Lady: “oh my GOSH.”
At this point, I was handed my bag and headed out of the store. The lady pivoted to watch me leave, turning the scarecrow to see me off, and said “well, good luck.”
I called out a cheerful “Thanks, we are really excited about it!”, and then tried very, very hard not to waddle.
Who am I?
I have been told (by my husband) that I really should give a sort of quick hand-wave at a self-bio before I really start “blogging.†I don’t want to. And if this blog were really all about me pursuing my own interests, then I wouldn’t be writing this. Take a picture: this is me being sacrificial. It won’t happen again. So where to begin the painful (though brief) process . . .
“Begin at the beginning, and when you get to the end, stop.” The Mad Hatter, Alice in Wonderland.
Let’s call this,
Heather: A Brief (and very incomplete) History
Or,
My Husband Made Me Continue reading ‘Getting This Out of the Way’
My husband uses an illustration in teaching on childrearing that can help parents keep a perspective on what it is they are doing day in and day out. And here it is. When you love your child by giving them attention and love in many and varied forms, it is like putting money in their bank accounts. Whether it is singing to and with them, playing those silly games, making eye contact when they talk to you, caring for them, feeding them, and bestowing good things on them, all these things are deposits. As they get older, it may mean listening, shopping, helping, driving, being at their games, helping drill them for tests, or hosting the parties at your house. By Continue reading ‘Bank Accounts’
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