Packing is coming along nicely. I don't really hear other people talk much about this, but I think one of the hardest parts, for me, about moving is to have everything out of place for weeks. For some reason it's stressful to not know where things are. I know, I'm crazy and you already knew that. I am really looking forward to being settled and learning our new home and town. Such an adventure!
I discovered the flickr group for vintage cookbooks. *Swoon* I could stay there all night.
My babes are so enjoying having Hannah here. They've all been helping her, even Sarah. I realize that Sarah's not a baby anymore. She's helping and talking more and more. Soon she'll be two. Now that I'm back to my pre-pregnancy size (finally), and I've been packing tiny newborn clothes, I finally have baby fever again. Elizabeth faithfully prays for a new baby boy--I mean daily--so God might answer her prayer one of these days. You never know! As for Hannah, I'm enjoying her too. It's fun to get to know each other as peers, not just big sis/baby sis (we're 13 years apart). We've taken time out each day to do something small but fun, like and at-home pedicure or going out for pizza. Nice!
Dogwood and azaleas are blooming and we've had warm and sunny weather. Nothing lifts my spirits like a sunny day.
I know I've linked to Debra a lot lately, but I can't stop reading her blog. She so speaks to where I am, or where I've come from, so often. Here's a snip from today to wrap things up:
But there's something else I'm noticing about my own self. There are times all these years later when, suddenly, I no longer feel like doing those things which I absolutely loved doing only last year. Or last month. Something--some hobby, some favorite movie genre, some specific part of my whole identity-- suddenly will feel like only a memory. A pleasant memory, but something very much removed from who I am and what I find pleasurable or fulfilling today. Whatever it may be, I find myself no longer even caring much about it at all.
But now in my late 40's I've learned not to panic when that happens (and it's happened a lot this past decade). For I've seen it's all rather like shedding of an old skin. A leaving behind of what I once was so to make room and time and energy for what I am becoming.
In other words, it's become, for me, a sign that I am growing-up.