We’ve enjoyed an Easter full of family, food and good church services.

Someday soon, I hope, I’ll feel like writing here again. In the meantime, I’ll post photos. : )

I need a healthy alternative to ice cream. I’ve discovered that ice cream is our go-to treat on warm days after school and, to be honest, most any evening.

Any suggestions?

Someday I’ll post something with words and forethought. Today I just want a change of scenery for my blog. It’s Monday—a new week! And I have zoo pics to share.

I really like these three images from last weekend. My brother Adam kissing his baby? Well, it just doesn’t get more precious than that for a little sister. And Noah’s bright eyes, those endless eyelashes and adorable teeth kill me. I love the last pic of Kristin, her kiddos and Livia as well. Kristin is faithfully and serenely looking into the camera while the girls are being pretty silly and Noah is sucking away at his pacifier.

Each time I see my niece and nephew, I’m surprised by how much they’ve changed. Perhaps that’s why I love photography. It gives me the power to capture an quick moment in time—and to keep it forever.

Jeremy bought flowers for both of his girls last night and Liv’s response was sheer joy. It was something else, we’ve never seen her so giddy. She kept talking and talking and talking—to the woman buying flowers next to us, to the cashier, to Jeremy and me. She said something to Jeremy like, “I know that you very loved me!” and gushed joyous proclamations left and right. And here we thought her love language was physical affection! It was so fun.

It’s good for me to look at happy images this evening because today has been rough. Livia has pneumonia, just a slight case, but her cough is waking her up very early in the morning and keeping her up way too late at night. Already a spirited personality, Liv becomes almost unmanageable on too little sleep. It’s hard to keep nursing your little one when you feel like you just need a break from not only the incessant coughing but also the unbelievably bad behavior. And oh my goodness, that kid got on every nerve tonight.

But finally, she’s asleep. Dear Jesus, let the medicines do their thing tonight. And, in the meantime, let me be refreshed by the beautiful gerber daisies on my dining room table. (Thanks, sweetie.)

Jeremy and Liv are either playing the Stare Game or they’re cuddling. Whatever they’re doing, I’m in favor of it.

The pace of life over the past few days is leaving me a little breathless.

Jeremy’s grandpa passed away on Thursday. His death was not a surprise, but nonetheless, the family is mourning and we miss Grandpa Fred a lot. It’s just plain sad. Perhaps like many of you, I have a lot of thoughts related to death but I can’t quite figure out how to sort them out. I hate death. It sucks. Although it is clearly the natural progression of things, it is wrong and feels wrong. The death of a loved one seems to occur in something outside of real time. Driving back and forth to the hospital to visit Grandpa Fred, I thought it seemed strange that the rest of the world keeps on moving. People are still impatient in traffic, they are still going about their daily activities, nothing is put on hold for a family that is grieving. I remember feeling the same way when my Grandma Iola died. I would walk into the nursing home and feel instantly transported to a surreal existence where my beloved grandma was breathing her final breaths. Bah. This is hard stuff to write about!

But like I said, life moves on. Jeremy still has work and I have a freelance project to focus on. We still need to make our basement safe and comfy for Sarah & baby Quinlyn who are visiting soon. Dinners need to be prepared. Livia needs to play. The dog didn’t eat for two meals in a row so clearly someone needs to worry about that. Say nothing of the persistent colds we keep trading around the household—who ever has time for a cold?

Time for a funeral, to remember and rejoice in Grandpa Fred’s life, will be made. If you think of it, pray for the family, that God would love and support Grandpa’s wife, five children and many grandchildren and great-grandchildren as they adjust to life without him. Thanks, friends.

The following song has been playing in my mind for over a week now. The lyrics are excellent.

In Christ Alone

In Christ alone my hope is found,
He is my light, my strength, my song;
this Cornerstone, this solid Ground,
firm through the fiercest drought and storm.
What heights of love, what depths of peace,
when fears are stilled, when strivings cease!
My Comforter, my All in All,
here in the love of Christ I stand.

In Christ alone! who took on flesh
Fullness of God in helpless babe!
This gift of love and righteousness
Scorned by the ones he came to save:
Till on that cross as Jesus died,
The wrath of God was satisfied –
For every sin on Him was laid;
Here in the death of Christ I live.

There in the ground His body lay
Light of the world by darkness slain:
Then bursting forth in glorious Day
Up from the grave he rose again!
And as He stands in victory
Sin’s curse has lost its grip on me,
For I am His and He is mine –
Bought with the precious blood of Christ.

No guilt in life, no fear in death,
This is the power of Christ in me;
From life’s first cry to final breath.
Jesus commands my destiny.
No power of hell, no scheme of man,
Can ever pluck me from His hand;
Till He returns or calls me home,
Here in the power of Christ I’ll stand.

Yesterday Shiloh celebrated his first birthday. (And before I go any further, I need to say Happy Birthday, Dad! And Happy Birthday, Dad T, from last week! Yes, people are more important than dogs.) In order to mark this quite small celebration, I present Random Thoughts on My Dog.

• My dog is a miniature trash compactor. He licks and eats anything he can find, including the sleepy from his eye I dislodged and flicked to the floor this morning. Ew. Gross.
• In the same vein of “ew, grossness,” my dog is obsessed with licking himself. So much so that Jeremy and I googled it one night to make sure nothing was wrong. For the record, we do, in fact, believe nothing is wrong physically. Mentally, we’re not so sure.
• We think our dog is fairly stupid. Aside from the fact that he potties in the right location, he doesn’t seem to understand 1) that he’s not supposed to eat kleenex from the trash can and 2) that he’s supposed to roll over when we say roll over.
• The previous points are all made moot by the fact that I LOVE my dog completely. I am utterly charmed by the way he cuddles into his dog bed every evening and I can’t get enough of his incredibly soft white furry coat. He is a very sweet dog who clearly loves his pack (us) and is devoted to being by our sides.
• In a nutshell, all the grossness is worth it. We love Shiloh.

We went for a walk in the park. In knee-deep snowdrifts. Hip-deep for Liv. It took an hour to make a very small loop in which I could see my house the whole time. Still, in a desperate moment, I recalled the doomed flight that landed in the Andes Mountains. And I decided Liv and I would eat the dog first before making more, shall we say, difficult decisions. Fortunately I had my cell phone. Even more fortunately, my child chose to be brave when she felt like giving up.

This series is from the more light-hearted moments of our almost ill-fated journey. And even though I wanted so badly to catch a shot of a snowball in the air, I wanted even more badly to keep my camera dry and functioning. : )

We flew out to San Francisco last week for Jeremy to meet his coworkers at ThoughtMatrix—and for us to attend the company’s annual holiday party.

We arrived at our hotel late at night (at least according to my body’s Central Standard Time) and didn’t get a glimpse out our window until the next morning. Then, looking down 14 floors, I located a Walgreens and a Starbucks and decided I’d be just fine on my own for one work day. Jeremy and I wandered the streets that morning, looking for a simple egg breakfast, and eventually killed two birds with one stone: we found Jeremy’s office building and a lovely organic restaurant that served breakfast sandwiches.

The following photos show the Flood Building, from which much of genius of ThoughtMatrix flows. (Many employees, such as Jeremy, work from home offices—so I’ll reserve some of the genius quality for them.)

Friday morning, when we first explored the city a bit, I threw my red winter coat over an apple green sweater I got for Christmas. And then I slung my bright red purse over my shoulder. Woman from a small midwestern city meet… the dress code of the working men and women of San Francisco. Black, black, black, black, grey, and black. I’ve never felt so very bright in my entire life and, darn it, there was just no way to blend in.

Now Saturday was a different matter. The tourists came out while the natives stayed home and slept in—and I fit in just fine, red coat and all.