My friend Amy waited a long time for this baby, this little guy who filled up her arms and her heart last fall. I am so excited to see their sweet family again this weekend!

Also known as the Horn Creekers or the Horn Creek Reunion Tour 2012.

For those who don’t know what I’m talking about, our group met and became friends at a PCA camp in Horn Creek, Colorado, almost 20 years ago. Ten years ago we began our girls’ weekends in Minnesota—and all of us agree it’s one of the best decisions we’ve made.

From left to right: Autumn, me, Bryonie, Charity, Haley.

When did normal life get to be a race? I wasn’t aware it was until last weekend when I finally put my feet up and, hallelujah, read a book. There was all this pushing and pulling and running in my life. Hurry to get Liv to school. Attempt to be super productive at home. Conquer the laundry pile, conquer the dishes, conquer the recycling. Rush through my photography work, making sure all my ducks are in a row. Hurry to enjoy my last few relaxing minutes before Livia gets home. And then let her relax, too, but only for a few minutes before getting homework done (my favorite moments of the day as I’ve already related). Time for dinner! And bed! And hello, let’s start again.

When did life take on this pace?

Perhaps that’s the best part about leaving town for my annual girls’ weekend at a lovely lake house in Minnesota: the break from running life’s race. The chance to see that life actually isn’t a race at all and that I’ve turned into into a frenetic, pressure-filled run for no reason. My moments of removal from the daily grind allow me to reflect, to reorder, to find joy again in my calling.

A respite by the lake.

Filled with food and drinks and books and conversation with some of the oldest and dearest friends I can imagine.

I am grateful.

I was at a church event when I learned that my friend Emily likes all things Organization. Scratch that, she doesn’t just like it, she lives it, breathes it, thinks of it and makes it happen. Emily even likes to read about organizing so she can learn the proper terminology for things like towel rotation and natural cleaning solutions. In short, Emily blows my mind. Her brain is an alien species to my brain, though in all truth, I wish I was more like her.

But I’m not. So obviously the next step is…? Hire Emily. Clearly!

It is with pride that I post this particular image of the day Emily came to conquer my bathroom. Pride that my bed is made and it looks pretty. (See? I’m not a total loser after all; I can do some things well. Yeah yeah. Moving on.)

These pictures show the reality of my need. After moving to the new house, with more bathroom space actually, I’m struggling to figure out where everything belongs. Also, these pics make me want to hyperventilate. Look at all the stuff all over the ground—argh! Do we really have to pull it all out and group it into categories? Just when I start to panic over the madness, I realize that Emily eats it up. She loves this process and hasn’t broken a sweat. It’s actually fun for her. Which is why she’s the woman for this job.

By the end of our time together, we’ve thrown away useless items (goodbye, old hairbrush and earrings I haven’t worn in five years), donated a few others, and organized the rest of the pieces for cabinets in three bathrooms. We’ve also unstuffed the linen closet, reorganized it and actually have free spaces on shelves. The linen closet looks so pretty with its clean lines and refolded twin sheets. I’m starting to understand what Emily does—she brings beauty and order to chaos, redeeming the space available.

I’ve got Em’s number if you need her help; but you can’t have her this morning. She’s coming soon to make some sense of my laundry room and kitchen nook. And she’s worth every penny.

Hey kids, want to get in the truck?
Sure you can climb up there!
Yep, you can run around, too.
No, you CAN’T ride in here while it’s moving.
Okay. Time to get out.
Now. 1-2-3-4. Get out. Jump down. Now.
No, you can’t get back in. I’m shutting the door.
Slam.

The house is in planned turmoil around me. Open boxes, closed boxes, boxes that were taped and then cut open because we still needed a plate to use in the microwave, dog toys scattered on the ground among a pair of small pink and green flip flops, clean laundry stacked in the corner, an LED lantern casually hanging out on the antique sewing machine. If only I was Mary Poppins and could cast a spell that would encourage each disparate piece to load itself in a moving box at the right moment!

Details clutter my mind as much as objects clutter my sight lines. Appointments for signing paperwork with lenders and title companies. Final walkthroughs and key exchanges. Doing something with the dog so he doesn’t get lost in the shuffle—and feeling so glad this something involves grooming for my little mop-like stinker. The schedule of the final days rolls through my mind and off my tongue as Jeremy and I confer in front of the calendar. Cross off that time, reschedule for another and trust that everything will actually truly really get accomplished when it should.

And then there’s nostalgia that overwhelms at various moments. It usually sits somewhere underneath the physical and mental pieces but every so often it sweeps up and sends a cloud of gratitude and anxiety over all else. How gratitude and anxiety can both rise up, I don’t know. But really, I am incredibly grateful for the rich blessings God has showered on us in this house. I mean, I’ve lived next door to friends for a decade now. (There was that brief period of unrest, but let’s not rehash all that.) Moving to a new neighborhood means saying goodbye in a very specific way to the Moreheads, who have become something more like family than just friends over the years. We’ve relied on them more times than I can count and they have been faithful to us. I’ve seen Renae’s tummy grow with each delightful child and then I’ve been able to love each of them and marvel over whether they’ve got Renae’s or Jason’s eyes. (I’m please that all have Renae’s pouty lip.) The anxiety steps up when I don’t trust that God knows what we need in new neighbors and wonder if they new folks will like us. Moving insecurity? Oh yes, it’s in there, too.

I’ve loved our neighbors, and our walks through and beyond the park, and our life in close proximity to church (our chief reason for moving here in the first place), and our ability to walk downtown so easily. It’s been a good ten and a half years.

Livia (age 8) and her buds Simon (age 4) and Ian (age 2) have been playing really well together. Gone are the power struggles between firstborns that we used to see a year ago and instead they’ve been doing all the classic neighborhood kid games together. Yes, they are doing this right before we move to a new neighborhood, so it’s bittersweet, but still we’re all glad that our kids are greatly enjoying each other.

On Saturday the kids had free reign over our hose and a deep bucket. They entertained themselves for hours on end and charmed my socks off when they asked for crayons and white paper to make signs for washing other people’s clothes in order to make money. It was a creative move, I’ll give them that. Some soap ended up in the large bucket—they washed Liv’s scooter and some of her clothing instead—and we think it hastened the death of a poor bird later that afternoon. I reached in the bucket to grab what I believed was the last piece of clothing and grabbed feathers instead. But don’t think about that any longer; enjoy some kid pics instead!

The New Year started out right with a photo shoot of the Kluver family on January 1st. Why yes, now that I write that I realize that I’m a little behind with this blog post. I love the results from our shoot, though, so this definitely falls under the better-late-than-never clause. And man, do I miss my friends Jenni, Kirk and Kyree. A few weeks after our session they moved right on down to Birmingham, Alabama, where sweet tea reigns and the dogwoods bloom. Lincoln’s loss is Birmingham’s gain! I hope the folks down there realize what an amazing family they get to enjoy.

The rest of the shoot will show up in the next post as I have a packing party to prepare for. Unlike the Kluvers I’m just moving across town. My tea will remain unsweetened. But I will totally be planting a dogwood in the new place…

It was warm yesterday! But we know what to do when it gets warm. Put on a cute swimsuit and a set of shades, grab the hose and fill up a bucket. Aaaaah. The good life.

We began the day with a few small chores, then cookie-making. Livia and I were ready to do some baking together, so we pulled out one of Jeremy’s favorite recipes and made a large batch of Oatmeal Scotchies. Sometime between measuring flour and doling out tablespoons of batter onto cookie sheets a realtor called and wanted to show our house to clients. I figured we’d set an appointment for Sunday or Monday. Uh no, how about in 30 minutes? Liv settled on the couch with earplugs and a video on my laptop (cleaning-wise, kids tend to undo whatever their parents are doing!) while Jeremy pulled out the vacuum and I ran around in crazy-fast-tidying mode. Five minutes later—seriously, five minutes later—the doorbell rings and the agent and her clients are on our front porch. I opened the door looking like, well, like I look on a relaxed Saturday morning after doing nine laps around the house. The vacuum was roaring loudly in the background, and I asked them to have a seat on the porch for a minute or two. Awe.some.

Long story short, the couple looked at our home and said nice things about it. We invited them to a small plate of cookies before leaving, and that was it. In retrospect I couldn’t believe how many small tidying tasks I had done that morning before getting the call—grace from a providential God!

At noon I joined a group of girlfriends for our 2nd Annual Reuben Lunch. Everyone walks into the chosen restaurant and order Reubens. Maybe Maralee can explain why Reubens are the sandwich of choice; all I know is that these particular sandwiches are delicious at Toast in Fallbrook. And the sides are great, too. But the truth is that I’d eat peanut butter and jellies with sides of sliced bananas if it meant I got to spend time with these awesome women. I left my camera at home but I’m hoping someone else captured a few moments from our lunch.

The evening was spent in my first 2013 senior shoot. The client happened to be someone I babysat a long time ago. (I have a memory of breaking his parents’ pan while popping popcorn–whoops. Dumb kid! Me, not him.) The session went wonderfully and I’ll post images from the shoot in a few weeks. After the photo shoot I drove home quickly and picked up my date for an evening of Hunger Games. We had both read the series and have been eager to see the movie version. Besides dealing with the caveats of watching in the theater (note to the general public: don’t chew ice all through a movie), we enjoyed the flick and thought it was really faithful to the book.

March 31 = good day.