02 February 2017

Our first Christmas home

How it got to be February I'm unsure. But all I know is I don't want time to keep going by without documenting the Christmas of 2016. We hosted Christmas and somehow made enough room for all 10 bodies to sleep in beds and be generally comfortable (aside from that nasty flu that hit 8 of us, of course). It was more of a magical Christmas than we could have reasonably hoped for. We woke up to piles of snow and happy babies, took said babies to church in their Christmas nightgowns, ate our traditional creamed eggs breakfast, and opened presents lazily all through the afternoon. Rory happily chomped on the mints from her stocking and wore her new mittens and glittery kitten shoes the better part of the afternoon. If you don't get through all the pictures at least scroll down to the last. She's my favorite. 

As for this blog in the new year, I have a lot I have floating in my brain that is itching to be written. Some of it scary, some of it mundane. But write I will. It's my goal to write some of my more vulnerable, scary narratives this year. For no reason aside from that my heart somehow itches to write them down. It's a hankering I'm not sure how to explain. 

Sometimes during the day my brain will latch onto a thought and write in paragraph form. And I let them go unwritten more often than I like to admit. So here's to putting yourself out there with abandon. If a million people or no people read, I think it's good practice not to care. 

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