I do hate when I'm away from this blog for awhile. Too much builds up in my head; things I want to say, projects to share, and the more that builds up the more difficult it is to write about any of it.
The kids and I went to Connecticut to visit my folks, pre-Christmas. It was a lovely trip full of fun times and deep thoughts, all of which I want to write about. But we flew home on what turned out to be the saddest of days. And I've been thinking about that ever since, and in the moments of clarity that come when I'm showering or folding laundry or otherwise not sitting in front of the computer, I have composed several paragraphs in my head on the subject, exploring my own faith in new ways. In good ways. I'd like to share, but haven't yet managed to write it all down in a way that doesn't come out sounding cheap.
SO, instead, I will leave this post with a story about my husband. And please know that I write this with nothing but love and good humor, and, most importantly, his permission:
We have a bit of a mildew problem in our master bath. The faux-tile shower surround ends up looking kinda yucky very quickly, despite my otherwise excellent housekeeping skills. Don and I were commenting on this the night I returned, and he mentioned that he tried to clean it off a bit while I was gone, and pointed to a wrinkly and damp towel hanging on the rack. "That's what I used this for."
I am quiet for a minute as I process the fact that yes, my husband actually used a decorative finger-tip towel to "scrub" the mildew off the shower walls. I laugh. He laughs. It gets even funnier when I take him over to the linen closet from which he selected the above towel, and point out the nice basket which contains bleachy-spray, rubber gloves, and a brush, all of which work superbly for cleaning mildew. I contrast that with the stack of tiny, seasonal, girly towels which he selected from.
In his defense, he argued that he looked through the stack to find the one that seemed "the oldest".
Is this a reflection on my decorating?
It was terrific. I asked him if I could tell this story to my bloggy friends and he graciously agreed.
So there, instead of some profound thoughts on trees, home, travel, Christmas, life and death, or anything interesting like that you get an anecdote about my bathroom and a autumn towel.
I'll try to get back to the other stuff soonish. In the meantime, Let It Be Christmas.