Tuesday, March 31, 2015

the secret retreat.

oh ellie jane, where are you?



 wherever did you go?


there you are.



reader friends, 

i've been slowly combing through some before/afters of our house.

i'm very excited to share what's gone down in H-town.

see you soon!

Monday, March 23, 2015

at long last.

finally getting around to posting the pics of london's 7th birthday party.

we hosted an ice cream bar extravaganza for our little ice cream lover...

who, sadly, no longer pronounces it "ass cweam."

Friday, March 20, 2015

Springtime Lovin.



the neighborhood

evening walks

morning run in the orange groves. aromatherapy!

fresh spring chop

airing out my feet, sandals!

baby animals!

do you see the baby lambs?!

my babies

spring break visitor
uncle ian!

happy first day of spring y'all!


Wednesday, March 18, 2015

Friday, March 13, 2015


Last week, London began her Spring Break by traveling to NV.
A whole week was to be spent with grandparents, all by herself.
Which was a first and very special treat, as she normally travels as a package, shipped in a bundle and labeled All the Single Ladies.

Three nights ago Tyler plopped onto the couch and remarked, "Man. I'm really missing my girl."

Me too.

Monday, March 9, 2015

Tickled Pink.

a favorite poem...

At times in our pink innocence, we lie fallow, compost waiting to grow. 
And other times we rush headlong like so many of our ancestors. 
But rush headlong or lie fallow, it doesn't matter. 

One day you'll round a corner, your path is shifted. 
In a blink, something is missing. It's stolen, misplaced, it's gone. 
Your heart, a memory, a limb, a promise, a person. 

Your innocence is gone, and now your journey has changed. 
Your path, as though channeled through a spectrum, is refracted, 
and has left you pointed in a new direction. 
Some won't approve. 
Some will want the other you. 
And some will cry that you've left it all. 
But what has happened, has happened, and cannot be undone. 

We pay for our laughter. 
We pay to weep. 
Knowledge is not cheap. 

To survive we must return to our senses, 
touch, taste, smell, sight, sound. 
We must let our spirit guide us, our spirit that lives in breath. 
With each breath we inhale, we exhale. 
We inspire, we expire. 

Every breath has a possibility of a laugh, a cry, a story, a song. 
Every conversation is an exchange of spirit,
 the words flowing bitter or sweet over the tongue. 
Every scar is a monument to a battle survived. 

Now when you're born into loss, you grow from it. 
But when you experience loss later in life, you grow toward it. 

A slow move to an embrace, 
an embrace that leaves you holding tight 
the beauty wrapped in the grotesque, 
an embrace that becomes a dance, 
a new dance, 
a dance of pink.

-Kevin Kling
(you can listen to an enjoyable interview with the author here)

Friday, March 6, 2015

as sisters will do.

for mallory's birthday this last week, we were able to coax and convince her to come south for a visit. 

i can't fix this. gah. how it hurts that i can't fix this.

so. in the meantime, faith.

 and hope.

and the spa.

a sister's birthday gift...cuz if you're gonna cry, why not cry AND get a massage?

i'm thinking Mikey was proud of this decision.

happy birthday mal, love you so.