mud puddling

the rain has puddled us lately.  we have so many big things on our hearts - worms in the puddle things and nothing but an old popsicle wrapper things.


my dear right (and mr. amazing) will head out next weekend to go house hunting. . . with me in tow.  can i just say that i am slightly jittery in the stomach about the whole affair?  i am.  this time around in moving. . .well, we're going the green blazer, striped tie and tweed trousers no kidding route.  that's right - you know what i'm saying. . . we're using a spade and gently hacking a hole in -the earth to put in our sad sorry roots.  i have the fabulous goldenrod-crushed-velvet-thrift-store-chair to prove it.  now, you know that when i buy chairs from the thrift store - i'm serious about settling!  i also have the b.e.s.t. gift a man could ever give a woman for their 12th anniversary. . . it's porcelain. . . it's white. . . it's got water. . . .it's not a toilet. . . .ok!ok!  my dear right gave me a drinking fountain! truly - it's been nagging on my heart as long as chateau's snack rack!  i do wish the camera wasn't froze open in a slightly romantic shade of broken.  i'd prove that goldenrod crushed velvet chairs and drinking fountains can make any mud puddle worth stirring with your fingers.


i know that when we moved here to seattle i splattered all kinds of info about our move and where we were heading and the home we crashed into and this time - well, there's been nothing.  we're in a sort of precarious spot right now.  we've had many interesting encounters with. . . .let's just say "non-healing uglies".   mister's job out of here is fuscia exciting, but needs to hide in a sort of chipped beige for awhile.  our hearts our hung in an odd location for housing that doesn't make a lick of sense.  we are trying to resolve ourselves to the thought that God may never turn us into the "normal" citizens that people anticipate we could be . . . .if only we'd be sensible. some days i wish that i liked couches and house plants, but then the thought makes me think about macrame-ing a hanging plant holder and i find myself shuddering.  can i just idle myself in a meadow perched in my crushed velvet chair and tat you a lovely web of lace?  i'd hang it from it's corner with a clothespin and then twirl around in the sunshine just so it would seem whimsical.  sigh.  why does buying a home have to be so dreary?  i suppose it's only this way when you realize that a silly non-dream dream might actually become a reality.  what we had thought our life would pan out to be has just simply turned into a cast iron skillet.  i think i'm mostly ok with it though. . . i mean i'd rather be in this hunk of cast iron amidst these refining fires than in a small stainless skillet with a cheap plastic handle!  it's just not as . . . .streamlined.  as a matter of fact it's kind of clunky and awkward and intimidating.  this move is our Ebenezer stone move.  it will serve as our reminder of God's mercy and His healing and His redemption.  we shall set this time up as a stone to remind ourselves (and anyone else who happens to . . . well. . . notice) that He is in the center - the pivoting point in our family as we saunter into town with the flair of  macrame gurus when in reality we hopelessly find ourselves dipping our toes into mud puddles while we tat.