Dec. 7th, 2011 06:50 pm
ella_menno: (Default)
Breakfast: peaches and cream oatmeal
Lunch: half a steak sandwich; five cookies
Dinner: chicken/pasta salad; two cookies

Note to self: see how carb and sugar heavy your eating was today? THAT is the reason you're now feeling sluggish, mopey, and just generally not-good.

STOP DOING THIS TO YOURSELF. You're much happier, content, active and fulfilled when you stay away from the sweets.

ella_menno: (blue pen)
I haven't written anything, really, in more than a year -- probably closer to two.

In the past 2 or 3 days, I've been almost consumed by an idea (I can't call it a "plot bunny," for that's far too innocent a term). It's not original fic, and I'm not sure it counts as fanfic.

Is there a name for expanding on offscreen situations that happened in someone else's story? Because that's what keeps pouring out of my pen and fingers. It's bleak and dark and ugly and horrible and I love it.

I can't concentrate properly on anything else - I'm getting distracted from my RL - I have to carry a notebook everywhere in case another word or phrase or sentence comes to me - I have an annotated playlist for this thing.

It's almost certainly crap that will never see the light of day, but it feels so damn good to create.

It's wonderful.
ella_menno: (life by emmavescence)
Does God care about religion?
ella_menno: (life by emmavescence)
It’s over. It’s over, I tell myself firmly, and I try to make my heart resume its normal rhythm through sheer force of will.

This is stupid, pointless fretting, and I know it. The tornados have long since passed; the weather is clear, calm, peaceful. The thunderstorms we were told to expect haven’t even bothered to show up, like they’re ashamed to make an appearance after the raging and grandiose performance the twisters turned in.

It’s over, and now everything is safe. My children, my babies are here, safe, sprawled all over my bedroom floor. Each of them is asleep, and none of their faces are creased in fear anymore. I don’t have to look at them and lie to them, to have them ask me questions with their voices ("is the tornado going to come this way?”) and their eyes (“can you keep me safe?”) that I refuse to answer honestly - because the honest answer is “I don’t know.”

I hate lying to them. I try not to do it – but there are times it is the kindest, the most responsible thing to do. There are times that shielding them from the truth is the best way to love them. There are times, like today, when they need me to look at them and tell them “I will not let anything happen to you. It’s okay for you to be afraid; I will be brave for you. I will keep you safe.”

Because of course these are all pretty lies. Though I would fight, kill, die for them, I cannot protect them from everything. When it comes right down to it, there are precious few things from which I can protect them. I can lead them to shelter, but I cannot change the path of a storm.

And yet, this time, it passed. It passed us by, it left us untouched – physically, at least. When they wake up tomorrow, this will already have passed into the realm of memory. “Remember the time?” they’ll say. “Remember how scared we were?”

“Yes,” I’ll tell them. “I do remember.” I’ll remember all of it for them, and someday, when they’re old enough, I’ll share all of it with them.

But not tonight. Tonight they sleep soundly, gathered around me, and I take this moment to pause and breathe a prayer of thanks, that we’ve made it through yet another storm.

There are times you sit down to write, and there are times you sit down and words just flow through you. The above words were the second kind of writing.
ella_menno: (greatest griefs)
Today sucks.

ella_menno: (baby ginny)
Hellooooooooooooo everyone! We're back from the fifteen-day tour of All Parts North (well, not all parts - just the parts where our relatives reside). 'Twas a good trip, if for no other reason than we didn't have the Random Fits of Barfage with which we were plagued during Christmas '04. The kids were good, the husband actually - gasp! - relaxed, and I managed to stop worrying and enjoy myself for the greater part of the holiday, which was a big change for me.

Had a number of odd, unusual, and otherwise memorable conversations with various people on topics such as these:

* Hypothetically spaking, would a thumbless monkey actually be a monkey, or does the lack of opposable thumbage downgrade said animal from status as a primate?

* What's a better scenario: Darth Vader at Hogwarts, or Severus Snape in outer space? (Very important for those of us who received several Lego sets from our grandparents.)

* Who came up with the original idea for the athletic cup? Did it follow on the heels of injury, or was it from its inception a preventative measure? How long have those things been around, and do they have any interesting backstories - like how George Washington's false teeth were made of wood, for example - was the first athletic cup made of, say, half a coconut shell? Did the village blacksmith attempt to make inroads into the area of genital protection?

In our defense, I will say that most conversations of this sort happened in the 14-odd hours we spent in the car. (28 hours if you count the trip there and back, and that's not taking into account the 10-hour round trip to MN.) Ye gads, we travel too much.


And now I bring to you a question: does anyone have a good remedy for EXTREMELY chapped lips? I don't know if I ran into something I'm allergic to, or if it's just been that dry, but my lips hurt. Both corners are cracked, and my bottom lip feels only slightly less bad than it would had I run a dry-cheese grater over it several times. (That last sentence was awkward; however, I'm excusing myself from fixing it, in deference to my OW OW OW lips.)


I do want to wish everyone a Happy New Year, too, though the wishes are a few days late.
ella_menno: (Default)
1. Well, okay. The whole of livejournal didn't blow up in my face like I was afraid it would, so that's all good.

2. The corner of my mouth is cracked and lo, it is very painful. The regular stuff I use (Aveeno lip stuff) isn't helping. Suggestions?

3. Scene in my kitchen earlier this morning -

BOYS: *gathered around counter*

ME: What are you doing?

OLDEST: Looking at the milk I spilled.

ME: Why are you looking at it and not wiping it up?

MIDDLE: We'll wipe it up, Mom. But first we wanted to decide what state it looked like.

(For those of you interested, the verdict was "Kentucky." It kind of did look Kentucky-ish, too.)

4. Dreamed about my grandmother last night. The dream has mostly faded, but I definitely remember her standing on top of a huge armoire type of thing in a hotel lobby. Oh, and she was wielding a machine gun.


Yeah. I dunno.


6. The kids are in the basement playing Jedi Academy. I can't tell you how that warms my heart.
ella_menno: (strange girls)
More of my seemingly endless quest to figure out who I am and what I believe, this time in chunky list form.

I don't feel quite right sending this out into the world without noting that all opinions herein are just that - opinions. Don't be surprised if you find sentences that seem to contradict other sentences. I'm trying to figure all this stuff out myself.


Read more... )


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REETCHICK or, the intersection of fandom, sex, motherhood, marriage, homeschooling, and idiosyncrasies.

Read more... )

I don’t know who I am. I’m not sure I’ll ever know who I am.

But sometimes, just sometimes, I think I’m starting to know who I want to be.


Follow the link to download “Living Prayer” by Alison Krause and Union Station:

quote in subject line from Richard Bach
ella_menno: (Default)
I am so fangirling this list:

20+ Reasons We Homeschool


I've spent the better part of the afternoon dling songs that make me cry. (Not all of them in the bad way, either.) Shall I list them for you? Mmkay.

"Taking You Home," Don Henley
"Whiskey Lullaby," Alison Krauss and Brad Paisley
"When I Said I Do," Clint Black and Lisa Hartman Black
"Russians," Sting
...all of which have been added to my iTunes playlist entitled 'heartbreak.'

*blinks* Wow. Don't I just sound like a big ole ball of fun.


T-minus four days until M. turns six, which reminds me - this would be a good opportunity to write up his birth story. Perhaps later tonight.

Gosh, I wish I had something more interesting to say.


Sep. 9th, 2005 09:24 am
ella_menno: (strange girls)
Tagged by the effervescent [ profile] celes720. This was difficult, as I do have that tendency to be too revealing at times.


20 Random Things About Moi

The Excitement Begins Under the Cut! )

*taps foot, waits for [ profile] pinkstumpy's list*

ella_menno: (redemption)
What do I want for a snack: chocolate pudding, or Oreos?

It would be sad if I caved in and got a paid account again just because I miss creating polls.


ella_menno: (Default)

December 2011

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