love won out

the calm before the storm

in my cozy home i sit whilst a storm is raging. a monster storm, penned frankenstorm, is brewing. a hybrid of cold freezing rain and hurricane-like winds is threatening our little-cottage-on-the hill. a storm that is like nothing ever seen over the last 100 years. the storm that is raging outside my door is not unlike the storm that is raging in our country right now.

i am not sure how to articulate this rumination of storm that has been rolling around in my mind for going on 30 years now. so like a body of cold water that begs to be enjoyed, i think i shall just jump right in. before i do, a disclaimer. the opinions expressed in this blogpost are solely mine-written from my meager understanding of my own christian beliefs.

one of my sister's best friend in high school was a handsome boy who happened to be the son of our pastor. my sister and her other best friend, a lovely girl, were always together. the three of them. they had their senior portrait made together. they were a fixture in our home. i still remember the three of them always together. swimming in our pool. chatting and laughing. going to prom. all those typical teenager-ish things. but one of those three high school friends was keeping a not so typical teenager-ish secret. a secret that ultimately killed him. he was gay.

my very intuitive sister knew his secret. how could she not? she was his best friend. and best friends share their lives with one another-even if they don't. 

i have been thinking a lot about this lately. the heated political debate about how people live. and who should be able to get married to whom. it's written on the voting ballot in my state. it embarrases me, really. have we come to this? making everything a law or an opportunity to politicize the private? giving politicos more power and prowess? paying them to fight all these imaginary dragons whilst we sink further into poverty both literal and spiritual. it makes me want to shout,"wake up!"

as a christian it feels like such a waste of time really. the time that it takes to fight another person over who they wish to love seems like time better spent loving the One who made me and them. am i missing something? if i am solely focused on the Creator, if i am gazing at Him and basking in His light, do i still have time to throw stones? to nick pick? i mean who is going to listen to a shout of hate when a whisper of love works so much more powerfully? consider the cross. i implore you. consider the cross bearer. He walked amongst the haters. He was not one of them. 

i think the church has fallen for a great big trick. it reminds me so much of c.s. lewis' book the screwtape letters. the demons are at work. and the one who is working the hardest is named Distraction. the time that it takes for a person to write a sign in protest or volunteer to get signatures protesting could have been better spent sitting with a grieving widow or tutoring a struggling student. are we too focused on what we are against that we forgot what we are for? 

the Mister and i roll these thoughts around a lot. his observation is on the hypocrisy of the church in regards to marriage. "we have no business telling other people who or how to marry when our divorce rate is out of control." 

christians, have we lost our way? love won out. jesus' love won us out. He is enough. He is bigger than our petty arguing. He is bigger than our protests. He is bigger than our well intended posturing. that, THAT is worth shouting. that is worth getting excited about. if we must make a sign, how about writing about His love? consider the gospel. the good news. He who knew no sin, bore our sin on our behalf. He went to the cross for us.    all.of.us. and we do not deserve, and we do nothing to earn it. o, good glorious gospel. that is worthy of examining and commending. be FOR that.

"turn your eyes upon jesus look full in his wonderful face and the things of earth will grow strangely dim in the light of his glory and grace"{hymn by helen lemmel, 1922}. 

if i am for Him, what i am against doesn't really matter much. and i am for Him.

love to you from me by Him,

gf

runaway mommy

one of my best friend is in pursuit of becoming a mother. writing that i feel cold and calculating. but it's the truth. 
and my friend is far from cold or calculating. she is webster's very definition of mother. wise, warm, whimsical, enchanting. she has mothered me for the past 23 years of my life with great care and loving attentiveness. my heart leaps every time she phones to tell me about another birth mother who is considering their profile. my heart aches every time she phones to tell me they were not chosen. 

we are indeed an interconnected community, we human beings. my pastor's wife reminds, "we are human beings, not human doings". and i bristle. i want to be able to do something. my friend is pregnant with hope and anticipation. the due date is a mystery. that is both exhilarating and exhausting. and i am not even the one going through it. i know you know what i am talking about. many of you have friends who are in the same situation. many of you are in that very situation. waiting. wondering. pursuing. chasing. despairing. 

so i was thinking about my own children. and the book the runaway bunny came to mind, that classic tale that sits on most nursery shelves. the story goes, there is a bunny who attempts to cleverly outrun his mother. but the mother, being the mother is always in hot pursuit of her baby bunny. it made me think of my best friend as she pursues her little bunny through the story of adoption. it made me consider my own bunnies and how they enjoy being pursued. and then it made me wonder. 

how often am i the runaway mommy being pursued by my boys? am i available to them? will they remember me always with a screen within my glimpse? my finger held up, "just a second." chiding, "settle down!" furrowed brows and not-so-short-motherly monologues about manners, and unkempt rooms. glazed look in my eyes as they excitedly share yet another story. 

it sobers me. to think that across a few states, my best friend is pursuing her bunny with all she has and here i am covered in motherhood, but with a postponed sense of gratitude.

lord, help me. i guess that little cardboard book still has a lesson for me.

xo,

gf

the apologetics of yoga

sundays are a day of ritual and rest for our family. but on this sunday, i was running. late. downtown parking eluded me. i managed to find a spot. swung my gigantic vehicle into a spot. parallel parking is a feat i perfected after attending a small private college. i often boast to passengers, "my father spent a small fortune for me to learn to parallel park." 

when i arrived at the yoga studio, the classroom door was already closed. the incense spilled through the cracks. a woman was looking at me as i kicked off my shoes. i could feel her gaze. i was annoyed. in a hurry to...to...to... practice yoga! i looked up. she smiled. i smiled back. "hi!" a very familiar tone from her voice. i returned the pleasantry. "how are you?" again she spoke to me like we knew each other. i was distracted. i had one thing on my mind.must.practice.yoga. the stranger paused and sighed. "you don't remember me do you?" my blank stare was a dead giveaway. "i am so sorry," i confessed. she reminded, "i was in a bible study that met at your house when you lived downtown. gosh it's been over a year. how was your move?" shame. this woman remembered my name. she remembered my life. i didn't even remember-her. 

we found a spot next to one another in the crowded class. i whispered, "have you been coming long?" she told me, "i have. yoga literally saved my life." she went on to share, "i went through a period of deep, dark depression. yoga pulled me out of my cloud." i smiled. she continued, "i practiced for a while. some of my friends told me that yoga isn't christian so i stopped for a while. then i prayed about it and really felt like it was okay. you know to do." i sat on my mat and considered. is THE creator of the universe not also glorified in the yoga studio? is He not bigger than the idols that are within my glimpse in this room? when jesus died, the curtain was torn in the temple. we enter into the holy of holies freely, dear ones! and He is not contained in the temples made by men. hallelujah!{read more at: matthew 27:50-51 or mark 15:37-38 or luke 23:45-46}

the class began and our voices were silenced by mantras. our arms raised. we knelt. we bowed. we moved. we looked up with hands raised. 

eric liddell once said he felt god's good pleasure when he ran. i know that feeling. i feel that when i practice yoga. a feeling of preciousness. a feeling of gratitude. a heart overcome with love for my maker. brought to tears. i worship god when i practice yoga. i bow down in adoration to the Creator of my body. i thank him for a body that works and moves beautifully, by His design. never have i been injured from this gentle and exceedingly challenging ancient movement. it has been nothing but faithful to cure all that ills me{and leave me feeling quite amorous}. i adore how it has shaped me physically and spiritually. i cannot say that about many other things in my life.

sacred. the music. the incense. the incredible welcome like coming home. no shame. the feeling of complete acceptance with the reminder to "be who you are". the cooperative voice. the ancient language. so many aspects of yoga remind of my other sunday ritual-church. both places point me to something bigger than myself. both places compel me to worship god. both places leave me feeling glad to know that at the end of my days there will be Somebody waiting. with arms outstretched. welcome.

when i consider my journey to the yoga mat, it runs parallel with my journey to jesus. a few years of shy experimenting. a few years of intentional forgetfulness. and like the prodigal son, a reverent return with much humility and enthusiasm. a reward that is palpable.

solely i belong to the One who made me. and He made yoga. and He created me for yoga. i feel it in my bones. for that reason i can enjoy the creation whilst worshipping the Creator. and in that i feel His good pleasure.

namaste,

gf

a good song to add to your yoga playlist. the words are enough to evoke a heart of love and gratitude. 

these boots were made for walking

i am standing in the kitchen making dinner. pandora is blaring. the boys are off in their little necks of the wood-literally. i have about 5 minutes before the hunger in their bodies reminds them that they have a warm home with a mother who is steady at the helm stirring a pot of something hot that they will likely dismiss with unsavory remarks.

and just like that the breeze blows in leaves and debris from their wild outdoor adventures. cockaburs and uprooted plants gather in their shoes and tousled hair. their arms are full of whittled sticks, slingshots, air soft guns, bow and arrows. an arsenal for any adventurous boy. again, i remind them to please leave their sticks by the door.

i glance down. the smelly trash grabs my senses. you can only smell it if you are standing close to the huge receptacle. and i am. i type on a keyboard sticky from my failed effort to multitask. eating a leftover peanut butter and jelly quarter of a sandwich whilst typing. trying hard to document our day. this day i lost yet another pair of boots. the ones that now rest in peace in the smelly bag that lines the can within my sense of smell. 

o, and to think just this morning when asked what i was thankful for, i remarked: my five senses. god is so good that he gave us 5 ways to enjoy this amazing world. and now i curse that sense of smell. so close. stinky boots-filled trash.

i often think that the perfect gift for a new mother is a good pair of wellies, a boot that is fitted for battle-in puddles, hills, mud and traipsing through high wooded areas. a new diaper bag is cute and practical. a diaper genie is obsolete{loathe}. a monogram blanket will be adored, but not used. however, a good pair of boots. those are sure to get a lot of miles in a house where young children dwell. and if they don't, then, well that is just too bad, friend. i ask you. do you own a pair of boots, but keep them for something other than the nitty gritty of life with younguns? kindly consider dusting them off and joining your little ones{or some borrowed children}on the grandeur of the outdoors. for when you tuck in your pant legs you feel positively invincible as you walk through the woods. no snake can bite. no insect can find its way with that rubber barrier as you set off into the woods.

my first pair 

once upon a time when we lived in the suburbs and our 3rd baby was newly born, i ventured out in a pair of polka dotted boots with my little boys. it was just beyond our fenced backyard. it was a spring morning. we were within eye shot of our little brick bungalow. and there the 4 year old noticed, "mommy, scat!" the mysterious and alluring{for kids}droppings from a deer. and within a few feet we found the molted antler. exhilarated with our find, we made a pact that day. nature is worth our prowess. there is always something worth finding when we step out beyond our comfort zone and into nature. and that day we were rewarded for our measly endeavor. me, a mama with two young ones and a newborn. sleep deprivation was heavy on me, as was the post baby weight. i craved a bed, a pillow and a decadent sleep.  every season has its time. i was in the season of toddlers and babies and a curious minded lad who did not wish to play indoors on this spring day. and so i girded up all my inner mama mojo. and for that reason, i have burned through a number of rubber boots. have literally worn them out. that precious antler rests by our front door more than 9 years later. a signpost that we are the kind of family who lives for an adventure especially ones out in nature. and we are always rewarded for our undertaking.

antlers:franklin,tn{2003)coral:dominican republic{2009}
nature bowls teeming with treasures too many to recall

i sure hope this week's end finds you traipsing and traveling out of doors to wonder and revel in the beautiful sodded soil. breathe in. consider the sky. can you hear the small as well as the great? feel the crisp air. savor the fall flavors. you have five senses so you might as well use them.

yours,

gf

p.s. this is my 200th post. and i have so much more to tell you. thank you for the encouragement! so grateful for this space.

slap happy

do you ever feel so exhausted and silly that the combination makes you almost feel like you have had a few too many? well, i get that way-too often. my kids do that to me. i have been like that a lot this week-the result of the mister's extra long work schedule along with the activity of our household. so the other day we were waiting on brother number 2 to finish up his guitar lesson when we found ourselves in a local toy store. i was running on fumes. then the oldest commented aloud, "i really hate playmobil toys. regardless of what they are doing, they always have a smile on their face. it's kind of creepy."

i looked closer at the box in front of him. then he began to walk around pointing to the boxes and adding his divine commentary. i could not stop laughing. loudly. obnoxiously. embarrassing my brood of boys. "he is right! these figures are downright sinister." have you ever noticed?

since you were not there, here is the oldest's take on the matter- with photographic accompaniment...

i'm taking you down, sister.

that wasn't so bad!

bring on the riots!

yeah! we lost.

yippee! a broken arm.

yeah! we're being robbed.

may you see the humor in your day. sometimes life is overwhelming. then you meet a toy that reminds you that it's also pretty hilarious. just notice this new line of microbe toys with its plush goodness representing lyme disease, fat cells, mono and nerve cells. for the baby who has everything. the beanie baby for the brilliant and curious.

i loved the measles toy with its red polka dots, but the boy quickly reminded, "microbes don't have eyes!"

cute measles

still slap happy,

gf

a Blend of Families

hey.sometimes you need an excuse to show off a backyard with a view of the night sky full of stars, a bottomless caldron of chili with a generous amount of s'more supplies. it's called fall, y'all. and that is what we did this weekend. we invited a few friends over to sup and celebrate the chill in the weather. it was a glorious reminder that god is the creator of community-all kinds of families coming together to enjoy our kids, a nice meal and the perfectly toasted marshmallow. dads finally meeting. kids running off into the dark armed with flashlights{and alluding the camera}. boys throwing in armloads of magnolia leaves to the fire to hear that peculiar popping sound. adults monitoring sticks-and fire. me hearing of my oldest's feat-jumping the fire. mamas relishing a moment to chat. eating. laughing. enjoying. it just so happens we all belong to the same homeschool tutorial. but don't hold that against us. every once in awhile we know how to cut loose. 

wood: gangnam style

 p.s. and we sure did enjoy celebrating a super sweet mama amongst us. 

{thanks to the Mister for playing photog and capturing these fleeting moments}

school daze: silent "e"

last but not least, i give you the fourth installation in a 4 part series on our school choice. perhaps you have not read the other three pieces? you can see them here, here and here.

for some reason i managed to become a good speller without  learning how to articulate the rules to spelling. consider the job of the silent "e", that handy, little, mischievous letter that usually comes at the end of a word. its presence allows the  preceding vowel to say it's name, make the long sound. that is our handy,little,{last}mischievous boy. he may seem silent, but in reality, he is not unlike a few spelling rules. and just like some spelling rules, he can be a rule breaker.

supervised fire

our fourth child is like most youngest children in families. he is indulged, coddled and beat up-on a regular basis. and unfortunately, often overlooked. a few years back, when we had just moved to maryland, i was distracted teaching the older boys. the littlest was off quietly playing by himself. we were moving at a good clip through our school day, when the smell of smoke whispered into the room where we were working. i immediately jumped up and ran out of the room looking for him. he was found under the stairs in the basement, happy and content-with a box of matches. "i was teaching myself how to light matches, mommy." and that day, i realized that our littlest had a proclivity for learning-and adventure. he was 3. from that day on i assigned him a brother buddy as supervisor.

this littlest-of-four-boys can keep up with the best of them{or cries trying}. when we decided to keep him home to school it was in response to what i saw working with the other boys. i will readily admit that it made me a little sad to think that he would miss out on all the sweet aspects of a traditional kindergarten class. you see i taught kindergarten for a few years. it's kind of the best part of school if you ask me. but there was something in me that felt like being at home with his older brothers in our one room schoolhouse would be pretty great too.

and it has been. already his math skills are surprising to me. that is probably because he hears his brothers as they recite their math facts {and has been known to answer for them and work their worksheets when they aren't looking}. he has also picked up some not so cherished habits like fighting or asking, "who wants a round house kick to the butt?" but i suppose that is just par for the course. wouldn't he learn that if he were away? please tell me he would.

i do adore having him home to snuggle for stories. watch him write. teach to read{who am i kidding? i haven't begun to do that!}. he is our last baby. our last little person to hold tight until he pushes away for more independence. and that is beginning to happen. and that is fine.

tracing

when i look back over the last 9 years, i see that homeschooling our four boys has been more about lessons on perseverance, obedience, grace, forgiveness, trust and mercy than that of academics. i know that they have taught me more than i them. the joke has been on me all along thinking it was about what i had to offer them. what can i possibly offer boys who have an insatiable curiosity and the energy to purse it? o, yeah. i can drive. 

i have to say, the winds of change are blowing through our little family. it's rumblings are distant, but growing louder. for the first time i realize that this homeschool adventure has been more about my character development than theirs. and it seems that i have learned a lot. i wonder if i would have the capacity for wonder, enchantment with literature, disdain for all those flippin' spelling rules and authentic self loathing had i never jumped on the road less traveled that led us to choose to school our boys at home. i think about that a lot. and i think about how the future will unfold. you never know what will come of our little one room schoolhouse. this i know, regardless of homeschool, public school or private school, we will never abdicate our role as primary teacher to our boys. the way i see it, all homes are schools. yeah? yikes? 

what is it that we are  learning? what are we teaching? and are the lessons worthwhile? i sure hope so. 

yours,

gf

celibacy has no place in marriage

i love this man who never know what the hell i am going to say next. this is for you, my darling.

i really have nothing more to add to the title of this post, but i suspect you want to know the inspiration so here goes. before we move on though you need to know this.

i write what i know. i write what i live. i give recipes for food not life.

i dabbled with intimacy before marriage both physical and emotional. had i thought that was the best sex and love could be, i would have chosen a habit-the nun variety. 


this post is written to the friend whose youthful indiscretion robbed her of a healthy relationship with her husband. this is for the newlywed who thought that marital boredom is inevitable-a shoe in for longevity in marriage. this is for the girl who longs to be known by her husband. i am all of those girls. 

now shall we move on to address these proverbial elephants in the room? shame and guilt. those are words that i know well. they were my traveling companions for many years. fortunately, when i met my husband, he tenderly unloaded them for me. 

the first night we acknowledged our love for one another, i flung my arms up in confession to this man who confided that he wanted me for his one and only for the rest of his life. once i felt loved and accepted there was an inevitable moment when we felt like there was no turning back in our hearts so we needed to come clean with one another. and we did. and it was gruesome. and it was glorious. shame and guilt were called up. and then they were tossed out. i have never looked back at them. they do not name me or write my story. and for that i am deeply grateful. unworthiness is a different story though. that is something that haunts me daily, and i must breath through most days to get through the weightiness of that one.

my beloved and i have shared the same last name for 17 plus years. and i have to tell you, our delight in one another has never been sweeter. part of what makes sex so great is trust, familiarity, nuance and relationship with a great deal of grace and humor thrown in for good measure. we have bought a big box of junior mint movie lies when we believe otherwise.

here's the thing, we have shared a lot of beds, my mister and me: the marriage bed, the sick bed, the baby bed. things have not always gone well. we have not always gone to bed together or on good terms. we have waned in our purpose and pursuit of one another. but he has remained faithful to me and i to him in every sense of the word. and that is a gift.

my point in writing this incredibly personal piece is because like with anything, i deeply desire truth to prevail. happily ever afters and the good guy wins. but we are living in times when sometimes it looks like evil is winning. i have walked with friends who are not living the same story they did when they spoke their marriage vows. shame and guilt have won out in their marriage. the divorce rate makes marriage seem obsolete. and chosen singleness seems somewhat compelling or inevitable with all this shame and guilt hanging around. "who will want to marry me once they find out what i have done?" let me tell you. that is a lie from hell. i know because i believed it. and i met a mortal man who had the same thought.

but guess what? those premarital indiscretions were not insurmountable. we have managed to find post marital ways to screw up. fortunately for us we are in for the long haul. through thick and thin. in sickness and in health. til death do us part. and until that day comes we plan to have a lot of great, happy sex. so take that, divorce rate!

and on that note, i'll leave you with a catchy line a lovely pastor of mine always said, "sex is like pizza. when it's good, it's really good. and when it's bad, it's still pretty good." and that is one for the cross stitch pillow.

yours ever so truly,

gf

school daze: gorilla in the midst

{herein lies the 3rd of a 4 part series on our schooling experience. if you would like to read the other two, kindly go here and here.}

how the natives best concentrate

studying more about sociology is something i would someday like to pursue. perhaps that is because i took an amazing sociology class as an undergraduate. the professor was compelling and kind. for some reason the most remembered aspect of her class was the story she told of her own daughter's wedding.

this sociology professor at this large midwestern college was quite literally shut out from her daughter's most important day, her wedding. because her daughter had decided to marry a man who was mormon and her mother was not, this sociology professor was not invited to the nuptials of her beloved daughter. the shock and confusion still pierce as i think how hurtful this must've been for this vulnerable mother who felt this part of her life was worth sharing with a classroom of kids who were her students. 

what does this have to do with my third post on homeschooling you might wonder. well, a lot actually. 

that story and that sociology class made me long to understand people. and my deep desire to understand people is another reason why i decided to try to understand my people, my children. the best way i found to understand them is by studying them, learning with them, and occasionally teaching them.

when my sociology professor mentioned the newly adopted religious beliefs of her daughter, i questioned exclusivity. what mores would one have to adopt and accept to make this seem reasonable? my own faith beliefs are of inclusion. including and inviting. this component of the mormon church still mystifies me. 

before i became a mother, i was an elementary school teacher. my third son is not unlike some of the students whom i taught when i was a free{educational}agent only they were female and named jennifer. he is my most emotional child with two settings: off and on. there is really no gray with harry. there is no revving up. he is on full throttle. or he is asleep.

still struggles with reading, but sweets help him persevere

when he turned 7 i realized his reading wasn't advancing like i thought it should so i asked a friend who happens to be a reading specialist to come hear him read. her assessment was that he just needed to have lots of repetition in his reading. "have him read and reread the same book." in addition she suggested, "have him take a new piece of literature and scan it for words that are unfamiliar. then have him decode the word." wow. okay. that is sort of what i have being doing with him all along. repetition, scanning for difficulty and then decoding {him}.

somedays i feel like dian fossey amongst the gorillas-waiting for this particular primate to make advances that can be recorded and examined. "is he making progress?" "does he know how to grasp this concept?" "is it developmental or laziness?" perhaps i am a sociologist{or primatologist} after all. 

this quirky boy of 9 sees and hears and feels things on a different plane than most. he modulates his mood to fit his observation. nothing gentles him like nature. and nothing impassions him like nature. recently we were sitting in our school room which happens to be a sun porch, a room that is literally all windows. how distracting this can be when the squirrels and birds are showing off, but how delightful too. this boy-who-claims-he-needs-glasses noticed the tiniest chrysalis hanging on the branch in our neighbor's yard. he kept trying to point it out, but my failing eyes could not make out the treasure. i strained. i tried, but it would not register in my view. i finally did the most despicable thing a parent can do. i lied. "o, yes. wow. how tiny. how magnificent you were able to spot that!" 

i still don't know if he saw an actual chrysalis. it seems out of season for that kind of metamorphosis. but what he saw or thought he saw is still telling. he saw magic and wanted to share it with me! 
with me! 

that is how i feel most days with this boy. magic. trying to see. trying to hear. trying to communicate with my gorilla in the mist who is in my midst. this boy who can spot the tiny magic in the neighbor's yard, but cannot see the box of cream cheese in our refrigerator. the one right in front of his eyes. he is a mystery to me.

and this mystery is teaching me: to hear, to see, to feel, to touch and enjoy.

truth be told it's my boys who have been schooling me at home. and this boy-our third son's lessons are on patience and laughter and grace. lots and lots of grace with a gracious amount of tomfoolery smeared on for good measure. 


learning to see-the chrysalis in the tree regardless if it's actually there. appreciating the birds of the air. and taking copious notes to keep up. i am still learning. there is so much more to learn.

xo,

gf

{next friday i will be ending this 4 part series on our choice to school in our one room schoolhouse-the place i affectionately refer to as the cottage-on-the-hill. i hope you come back to read the finale.} 

Get-A-Way

ah. i live in the thick of it. all the time. the life of a busy mother with a one track mind. school. 

this past weekend we left the wild ass monkeys in the care of friends: amanda and jeff. very capable, childless couple sets of hands. and in their very capable hands we left keys to the family ride with a full tank of gas, beer money, a pantry of food-and a permission slip in case one of the boys needed open heart surgery whilst we were away.

and then we skipped town. drove up to NYC. a decadent getaway. the perfect place for a man who never sleeps and his haggard bride.

an uneventful drive up {unless you count the fighting followed by a few hours of silence}. remember how i mentioned i have a one track mind? 

but once we saw that amazing skyline, i was able to lighten up, much to the Mister's relief. we parked the car, walked to our hotel to drop off any evidence that we were not locals, then we took to the street. o, the streets of manhattan. i do adore thee. 

first stop. lunch. shake shack did not disappoint. then to another favorite. central park. the gingko trees were showing off. we caught a few live musical performances which as it turned out were more honest than the show we came to see at Radio City Music Hall.

a quick trip down 5th avenue to while away a few laughs. then we readied ourselves for what we thought was going to be a worthwhile music show performed by the newly-relocated-to-nashville boy, Jack White.

not a shining night for us nashville natives as our boy disappointed a sold out crowd by playing a short set.

but our night was not lost. we jumped in a cab with some friends for a long ride uptown. poor Mister sat crowded with girls draped all over him as we serenaded with banana rama {i saw them live back in the day}.

when we finally shuffled into our hotel at 2 am {ah, city life}, the city and the disappointment of a short show took their toll. but we managed to stay up way into the wee hours of the morning talking {what adults who don't have children get to do during normal business hours}. and we had a lot of business to discuss. 

o, i am indeed a lucky girl. i came away from this weekend even more delighted with my imperfect husband who loves me so well. to be perfectly honest he very chivalrously showed all us crazy girls a good time on the town, made us laugh, took care of a few who were over served and happily paid the tab. what a guy! and he showed me, his bride of 17 years, that he still knows how to cut loose and have a good time {responsibly} despite all he does in work and life. 

sunday greeted us, but without the fanfare of children needing breakfast and snuggles, so we took our time waking. the city awaited with more to do than we had time. 

the chelsea market called. and we answered. afterwards, we took a short walk to the high line, a railroad track converted into a garden where we met a woman who is riding her bike across the country with a typewriter-allowing strangers to write their stories which she will later compile into the great american poem. she calls herself the type rider. and that is where our story ends as well.

we hopped in the car {that was gifted with an enormous parking ticket} and headed away from the city back to our little town where our boys were waiting for us.

and they were happy to see us.

xo,

gf

p.s.this weekend was made sweeter with the help of a&j who took such good care of our lads we never felt compelled to check in {we were having such fun we forgot we had kids}. and to my darling friend dana who took our little guitar hero to go see his first live show with phil keaggy. what a blessing!!!