Trying to blend in

Sometimes I do not write because I feel as if I have no pictures to go along with the words, and pictures reveal less than words, so they are easier to share.  Real people, who really know me, read this, and it is all they hear from me, and they know me, so my writing voice has to sound like my speaking voice.

Sometimes I do not write because I am too busy.

Sometimes I do not write because I am in a difficult patch, and a bit moody, and it seems wrong to sit down and write cheerily about crafts and such while I really feel as if parenting is far too difficult and all those people with clean, neat houses have their priorities all wrong.  They, too, should spend hours aimlessly browsing or taking pictures with their iPhones.

But tonight I have a few pictures to show, at least:

(The tablecloth was a gift from my mother, with printed South African flowers)

(Jacques' sweater was a gift from his mother, hand knit.)

(Wow, they are big!) A week or two ago we did not have bread in the house, and I have not replenished my pantry completely since we came back, so I had no bread flour.  Martinus was distraught - do we not have ingredients either?!  So I fell back on good old white flour, eggs, milk and butter.  And baking powder, of course. I used a scones recipe, but instead of making individual scones (by the time I started to panic it was 1 pm), I just made a big round scone and cut it into eights.  I know this is how many Americans do it, I have never seen it in this shape growing up.  We pulled out the good old Lyle's Golden Syrup and Marmite, and added butter and cheese.  Lunch!

Back in South Africa, walking though the aisles of the Spar, I felt so happy.  Everything I loved was just there, so easy, no hard thinking about what to do with it once I brought it home.  My sister bought me the syrup, in Namibia.  I found the Marmite at a World Market.  Today I found a site that sells many South African products, and decided to buy some Ouma Rusks, Mrs Balls Chutney, Iwisa Maize Flour (for breakfast pap, and it is not the same as grits, I promise you) and Handy Andy.  As if there isn't enough cleaning liquids in the US.  But I was on all fours under the kitchen table, yesterday, wiping up sticky brownie crumbs, and wishing that I had Handy Andy - just because I know how to use it.  I also bought some sweet chili sauce, Wellington's.  Because it really is not available here, and I eat it on everything.

In other news, we are buying a house!  The same one we saw in October and thought we could not get because we would not be in a position to close before April 2013.  We have signed the final contract, and the date of closing is specified as April 30.  We went back to look at it again, measured the rooms, and we still love it, I think I love it even more.  It may be our "forever house".  It looks big in this picture, but it is not that big - 2200 square feet (205 square meters).  Four bedrooms, two living areas and a breakfast nook next to the kitchen.

This is the view from the back of the house, that fence is part of an enclosed area behind the house.  (The Alpaca pasture?)  How funny, I never noticed the wires and poles when we were there, you get so used to them here in Texas.  It is a good sign, it means that you do not have to bury everything to prevent it from being stolen.

(As I write, it started to rain, and I hear some thunder.  What a rare treat to listen to thunder and rain in the darkness, when everyone has gone to bed but me and my poor husband who has a deadline coming up next week...)

And now I just want to show you what I have been doing with my iPhone, and Hipstamatic, my favorite app so far:

And these ones are spooky, but I like them:

 I like things that appear to be old.  I treasure the hand-me-downs from friends; I love to know that it had once been their mom's or an uncles', even the second hand homeschooling books with names written into them in the front gives me a sense of belonging.  Blending and mixing as much of the old with as much of the new as I can.

so bittersweet

  

For one last time:

build a castle and a moat;

stroll away, be brave and strange;

warm yourself in the sand;

dance with your shadow and your twin;

hunt for treasure;

watch your cousin pick up jellyfish;

run away in disgust;

share the towel, and the last heat of the sun;

stand and stare, take it all in.

Now let's go, it's time.

Nature study: Pond life (and death)

Yesterday we went to the park, and saw a Great Egret.  It stood in the pond on one leg, and I made the very old joke: "Look, it has only one leg!"  Then it flew out of the water onto the bank, and we saw that it had only one leg.  For several minutes it sat motionless, staring intently at the water.  My friend did some quick research on her iPhone, and read in a hushed tone that they catch fish by spearing them with their bills.  The Egret then proceeded to spear a fish, about 6 inches long, with its bill. After shaking the fish, it swallowed it whole.  Moments later it flew to the other side of the pond, leaving a single feather floating in the water.

It won't fit!

I still love the Fisherman's sweater pattern, and I am very sad to say that I will have to frog all of that knitting, because the sweater won't fit.  I know how important gauge is, I read the whole darn "The Principles of Knitting" and "Knitting Rules!" barely two months ago, both of them emphasizing the need to get gauge.  Yet I felt comfortable winging it.  Now I covet  a hank or 3 of Cascade Yarns Ecological Wool, because that would be a much safer yarn to try to wing it with, as it is more or less bulky, right?  If only I did not have too much yarn in my stash already.  Maybe if I knit size 10 it will fit the 4 year old?  ( I know how to do the math.  I just cannot get myself motivated to do it. Yet.)

About the books - I am not all that pious, I wish I were.

To be a transplant in all spheres of life, including your church, can cause some confusion.  Thus far we have been blessed with nurturing congregations, gifted pastors, and new points of view that challenge those that we grew up with, only to the extent that they are from a different angle.  It nevertheless requires some thought and study to bring my own thoughts and words in line with the words of the people around me, specifically those whom I trust.  (For clarity, I should perhaps say that we are now members of the  PCA)

I do not know exactly what I believed about prayer until now.  I think by nature I am a bit cynical; I also believe very firmly that everything is in the hands of God.  I did not grow up with specific prayer requests.  The Lord's Prayer was the example.  It never seemed necessary to be more specific.  Am I making sense, here?

In the 90's, a couple of tragedies struck in short succession.  My father and brother died, and my husband was diagnosed with cancer.  (He has been in remission for more than 10 years now)  I did not feel as if specific prayer was "effective" then, in any measurable way, apart from asking God to convince me that His mercy alone would be enough.  Actually having long internal debates, trying to convince God that it might not be, and then what?!  I know, it would still have been enough, but I was only 22 then.  As He promised, nothing could separate me from his love.

However, I fear that I might have become a bit cynical in terms of praying for anything specific.  This book, and I am only a few chapters into it,  may answer some questions.  I trust God to keep me safe, spiritually.  I just do not know how much more I should ask, since that seems to be enough.  So, in a nutshell, that is why I am reading "A Praying Life."

Once again, I am linking up with Ginny's yarn along.

(PS:  Yesterday it was 107 (41.6) degrees in Austin.  It is now after midnight and the temperature is 87 (30.5) degrees. Just sayin. It's not like I am trying to convince my whole family that this place is hotter than anything in South Africa. Really not.  Who would get involved in a debate about the weather?)