If These Walls Could Speak

I love change.  I just love change for the sake of change itself.  New places, new looks, new arrangements, new scenery, a new project, a new system.  Sometimes I change my systems just because I get bored with what I've been doing.  I sort of sabotage myself that way.  Often.  So I try to resist.

But when it comes to furniture, houses and decorations, change harms no one, and it's super super fun!  So last weekend, Alejandro and I decided to rearrange not one, but two of the rooms in our house, upon the arrival of a new-to-us couch for our living room.

Then, I decided I wanted to capture the look of those rooms, and remember the things about them that I love.  Sometimes, our homes hold memories that are lost in remodeling or rearranging, and unlike people, we don't typically photograph homes and remember how they change through the years.

There used to be a set of couches that sat in the living room of my childhood home.  They were brown and 80's and sort of striped, and they faced each other.  I used to lie on one and watch TV.  That was my spot.  I remember many movies in my teen years that I watched from that couch.  Remember Beaches?  Yeah.  That couch. And me blubbering like a whale with my junior high best friend. And before that couch and the TV were there, it was that couch and the fish tank and us small-sized girls with our noses pressed against the glass watching gold fish.  Aaah...  But anyway, before I get lost down Memory Lane, here's what I want to remember about this couch and living room:

It's the way the light spills in and warms your feet as you sit on the recliner during the day, and the way you can stare at the fire at night.  It's the fireplace with our engagement picture over it signed by our wedding guests, the candles from our wedding, and the Believe sign that was a gift from one of my Mary Kay heroes.  It's the rocking chair that my step-brothers were rocked in as babies. The Bienvenidos frame that I cross-stitched as I sat in language school every morning in Costa Rica in January of 2002.  The rug that we wrestle on and play Legos on with my son.  These are the things I want to remember about my living room.

In our bedroom...

It's the sunlight through the window that acts as our headboard.  It's the early morning shadows cast on the walls.  It's the hope chest and dresser drawers I got as a high school graduation present.  It's the fact that not a single solitary piece of furniture matches in that room.  

It's the rockers that we sit in to talk.  Or that we it in to not talk, but just to be together.  

It's the coffee pot that we put in between those chairs.  Because there are days when it takes a little something extra to get me out of bed, and a coffee pot in my bedroom, making me feel like I'm in a fancy hotel, is sometimes just the trick.  And who says you can't have a coffee pot in your room?  Not me.  

It's the extra floor space to play on, the picture that I can't believe was taken ten years ago.  Surely I have not been getting older, have I?  

It's movie nights in our room.  Because the only place you really want to watch a movie from is bed, right?  And it's Cars or Bob the Builder during Mommy's shower time.  Because, for the love of all that is fresh and clean, sometimes I just need to shower.  

It's this picture, taken the day I earned my teaching credential, three months before we were engaged.  It's these pieces of jewelry, which are now my favorite, and which seem to live piled up on the little table between the closet and bathroom doors.  

It's the secret space hiding behind our pillows that acts like a shelf and hides things that Danny won't find.  Like the clown doll that sucks its thumb that was mine when I was young enough to suck my thumb.  

It's the night stand that holds the lamp that's older than dirt and that I can't believe is still working.  My journal, given to me by a dear friend.  My Bible.  

These are the things that hold precious memories and restful times and romantic evenings and soft (and sometimes loud) mornings.  These are the things I don't want to forget.

Memory Lane Monday

Today my mom sent me a couple pictures that I just HAD to post for you...  even if I did already post tonight.

When we were growing up, we had a tradition of always taking a summer family vacation.  Each year was different.  Sometimes it was really extravagant.  Sometimes not so much.  But it was always memorable.  Those were some of my favorite times as a family.

One year we packed up and got in our van and went on a road trip.  For four weeks.  We drove across the mid-west and saw ALL sorts of really cool places!  One place we stopped at was Chimney Rock on the Oregon Trail.  My parents found this organization, which hosts wagon trail camp-outs.

See our camp site?  See the clouds looming in the back ground?  That led to us being out in the most spectacular electric storm I have ever experienced (still to this day).  It was terrifyingly amazing!  

They even had the Pony Express bring us our mail!

Yes, that is me in 90's high tops, an aqua jacket and matching glasses.  

And yes, that's my Dad with a mullet surfer's long haircut.  

My sister is the cool one in the middle.  

Uh huh.  Good memories.  

But wait!  Don't go away!  Since we're on a goat-ish kick, from our weekend in Salida, I thought I'd share with you (via my mom) about a place where you can go lambing.  (That means helping lambs be born.) Ok, I have no idea what that has to do with goats.  But there are some really cute pictures of lambs! You're welcome!  And thanks, Mom!

Women’s Lambing Week – Arkansas, Heifer International

by Kathy (Renee's mom)

Women’s Lambing Week at Heifer International was like going to summer camp for a week. There were lots of planned activities and opportunities – and all of them were optional. My goal was to see something being born. Not only did I get to watch nine births of lambs that week, I also got to hold some of the newborn lambs while they were getting ear tags and being painted with their mother’s ID number. I helped with farm chores when I felt like it. I learned some things about sustainable farming. I soaked up the calm. Me, who always has a book or a knitting project to fill up spare moments, spent 5-6 hours just waiting for a ewe to deliver. And I was totally content. Sometimes other women were there waiting, too; sometimes not. Part of the time they were off milking goats, making cheese, carding wool, having lunch, or seeing the “international village” on the grounds. Me, I just waited, completely patient. To any woman who hasn’t been to Heifer Ranch, I recommend the experience. Did you know that each sheep’s voice is distinct? And that a ewe knows its own lambs’ voices?

Just like people have different voices and you know who’s talking from the sound of their voice, sheep do too. The lambs would call for their mamas, and the mamas would call for their lambs. There’s a Bible verse about “I am the shepherd. My sheep hear my voice and know my voice.” The lambs and the ewes know each other’s voices. I loved listening to them.

Women’s Lambing Week and Weekends are in March; it’s not too early to sign up. You can click here to find out more!

-Kathy

It's Time for Memory Lane Monday!

To read this week's nostalgic post...

just click here.

Remember When...

Written April 26, 2011

Remember when we spent a month in California?  

Remember getting ready for the 17 hour drive home?

Remember when Danny had hardly any hair and baby fat?

Remember when he tried to wear his Papa's shoes?

Memory Lane Monday

UPDATED: 

IF YOU THOUGHT THIS PICTURE WAS FUN...  YOU'VE JUST GOTTA' CHECK OUT THESE!  MY MOM JUST SENT THE REST OF THE PICTURES FROM THAT DAY! 


ORIGINAL POST:

This weekend we've been spending time with my Dad and his new wife, Jeanne, getting to know eachother better and hangin' out with our little bundle-of-energy almost-10-month-old.  It's been lots of fun and of course, as it goes when grandparents and grandbabies get together, a walk down memory lane is bound to occur.  There have been several such "strolls" this weekend, so I was inspired to start a new series of posts.  It's called Memory Lane Monday.  A chance for me to post and electronically scrap-book some photos from the past.  You'll get to read stories from our dating era, our childhood, and in between... and of course, embarrassing baby photos are sure to appear... 

Like this one! 

Yep, that's me on the right.  And the star on the left?  Well, I'll let her decide if she wants to stake her claim to fame.  ;)  And don't any of you who know her go ruining it for her!  Ha! 

Each week I'll post Memory Lane Monday under its chronological date, and then let you know at the top of my blog with a link that a new Memory Lane Monday has posted.  Here, try it.  Just click here to view the post with its date from...  well, you have to click and go look! 

If anyone's interested in joining in the fun, let me know in the comments' section and I'll put up a MckLinky so you can post your own Memory Lane Monday. 

Thanks, Mom, for finding this one for me! 

I'll be back before too long with photos from this weekend! 

____________________Español____________________

Memorias

Este fin de semana, hemos estado pasando tiempo con mi padre y la nueva esposa - Jeanne.  Hemos podido conocernos más y pasar mucho tiempo con Danilo.  Hemos disfrutado mucho y por supuesto, como es cuando estamos con abuelos y nietos, hablamos de memorias de cuando era niña. 

Revenge of the Grandparents...

Hey Mom and Dad... Remember when we were kids and Elizabeth and Danielle were over for dinner one evening? (These two lovely ladies are the neighbor girls we grew up with. We practially LIVED at each other's house during the summer time.) Ok, ok, there were many evenings they were over. Well, this particular evening you had shut the door between the kitchen and the dining room, where we were eating. At the time, I thought it was because you trusted us and wanted to give us freedom and fun on our own. I now realize that it was probably to block out the terror and chaos that we were creating. Because that particular evening, we were filling our hamburgers with loads of ketchup and smashing down the top of the hamburger bun as hard as possible in order to see how far the ketchup would squirt across the table! Needless to say, it had us giggling so hard that there was the inevitable occurence of explosive milk-through-the-nose laughter. Multiple times. I am SO sorry to whomever had to clean up after that dinner!

Well, rest easy. Because Danilo has made retribution. He took revenge for you two days ago after his mid-afternoon meal. He was so sweet and calm, as he nursed quietly. After a while, he sighed deeply, and let go. Suddenly, he sputtered a tiny sweet little cough, tilted his head up, and proceeded to SPRAY milk through his nose all over my face and chest! Then he gave me the nicest grin afterwards!

:-O

Well, lest I be mistaken for a woman without a competitive nature... I figure a little retribution of my own is called for. After all. I can't let the grandparents get the last word, can I!?

I
THINK
NOT.

This is Danny's latest cutest outfit:

Do we not agree he has THE CUTEST TOOSHIE in town? Oh, yes.
Oh wait! Check this picture out!
Wait, that's not Danny. WHO is that?!? Why, that's Renee (at 6 months old)! But why, pray tell, is she dressed like a boy? Funny you should ask! Wouldn't you like to know? No matter. I'll tell you anyway. Well, when I was a little booger sweet baby, I had a rather short torso. It made dresses difficult, because I would always crawl on the front of them. Being the sensible mom that she is, my Mom dressed me in pants and shirts. So I often looked like a... well, I looked like a boy. When we were out and about in the grocery store the sweet little ladies would say to my parents, "Aaaaw! What a sweet little boy! What's his name?" And my mom - this is where the sensibility ENDS - would reply, "Andrew."

What!?

No wait... it gets better.

My Dad's answer was, "Alvin," just to see the looks on the poor little ladies in the grocery store who were horrified that such a cute little baby - because I was cute - would have such a horrendous name. (Anyone reading this named Alvin out there, please accept my humblest apologies!)

When it came time to go get my six month old portraits done, my Mom dressed me in my her the favorite outfit, with the favorite hat (given to me by my uncle) and took me on down to the photography studio. The lady said, "Aaaw, what a cute little boy! What's his name?" You guessed it. "Andrew," replied my Mom. And she proceeded to let the photographer take my photo as a BOY!!

Be ashamed. Be very very ashamed.

Yes. I'm scarred for life. Can you tell? ;)

At least we've got the gender-appropriate outfit on the kid now. Here he is, wearing my baby hat (yes, that thing is 30 years old).
Here he is with an old clown toy that was also mine. It has a little bell inside and it was one of my favorites!
"Hey, whoa! That thing is scary! Mom, don't you know clowns are scary to kids!? Sheesh!"
"Plus, it seriously needs to be washed. Gross, Mom."
"Oh, you played with that when you were a kid? Oh, yeah, it's kinda' cool."
"Hmm, what does it do?"
"Cool jingle!"

Goin' to the chapel courthouse...

On the morning of October 18th, 2003, I woke up at my uncle's condominium where I was living and I put on a yellow dress.  I grabbed the bouquet of yellow roses I'd put together the night before and I got in the car with my friend, Elizabeth. We drove to my parents' house where my fiancé was waiting. 



He was pretty excited to see me 

even though we gave attitude to the photographer my sister

because that day

after pictures were taken

we went to the courthouse to get married. 

With papers in hand and five friends and family by our sides, we walked in

and stood in line to get married.  It was all very romantic. 

Ok, well, except for the part about standing in line. 

Then we stood before a judge. 

She asked us if we were ready and we said, "Yep!"

And before we knew it, we were married!  The ceremony went so fast that we even missed a picture of the first kiss!  This is a shot my sister caught just afterward.   

I don't remember the ceremony itself or what exactly we said. We (obviously) didn't put much time into planning that day.  We saved the planning for our church wedding ceremony held eight months later.  But what I do remember, in the moment I said, "I do," was the deep-down-in-my-gut absolutely totally sure understanding that I was now joined to this man. 

In mind, in body and in spirit, we were then - in that very moment - one.  It's a mystery of marriage that awes and stills me when I think of the serverity of it.  Severity in a really wonderful absolutely amazing sort of way. 

I say often that marriage to the right man is incredibly wonderful and marriage to the wrong man can be hell on earth.  So choose wisely. 

I have been blessed with a whole lotta' heaven on earth.  Alejandro is God's best gift to me. 

After the papers were signed

and hugs were given

we decided a little celebration was in order.  So we headed back to my parents' house for lunch and a little cake. 

Literally. 

It was a cupcake with two kisses on top angled like wedding bells.

Then we went outside for more pictures before heading to the beach for a nice long stroll with our toes in the sand.

This is Chad, Alejandro's American exchange student (when they were in Costa Rica together) and host family (when they were in Kansas together).  He's sorta' responsible for Alejandro's love of the U.S.  So I kinda' like him.  Oh, and he also has a heart of gold. 

No, she's not my sister.  Elizabeth and I grew up together as neighbors. 

No, she's not my sister.  She's my mom. 

Yep.  She's my sister. 

And then

we lived happily ever after. 

Ok, maybe with a whole lot of Grace and refining by Holy Fire as we continue to figure this marriage-thing out.  But for the most part, we've lived happily and thankfully ever after.