louissa sinclair

we came home and made chicken noodle soup and biscuits. the conversation around the table resembled a scene from “While You Were Sleeping.” we covered the fact that i’m not actually 18, the cheese was never thrown away, and kellie hitchman was not at sergi’s yesterday. lots of laughs and my mumsie was actually at the table with all of us for the first time since her second emergency surgery.

yes, even though it’s dreary out, it’s turned out to be a rather lovely slow day.

i don’t know how people control themselves when they have a camera in hand. if i’m with someone else i’m fine…

but the minute it’s just me, i end up goofing off and getting very blurry…

…perhaps someday i’ll actually grow up. then i won’t take silly pictures of myself (and i most certainly would have more common sense then to post them on the internet for all to see), i won’t say that one of my favorite drinks is chocolate milk, i won’t have a strange paranoia about riding on a bike, i won’t do strange dance moves while baking in the kitchen, i certainly won’t ever say anything stupid, and i definately won’t let the outcome concerning american idol affect (or is it “effect”) me so.

someday.

Street after street was lined with quaint beach houses. An assortment of colors graced their sides and they all boasted a view of the ocean. The little yellow house we rented for our week long vacation was but a five minute walk from the beach and we found ourselves strolling along the windy roads to get our feet wet several times each day. We were lulled to sleep and greeted each morning by the salty smell of the sea, the sound of it rising high on the shore, and it’s crashing against the rocks found in its path.

Day after day was spent climbing those rocks, biking along the coast, and walking the beach while the sun turned our cheeks pink, the birds in the sky kept us company, and the sparkling blue water beckoned us on. We had no responsibilities and no set schedule. We were able to relax and enjoy time together. For one whole week, we pretended that we were doing something we’ve always wanted to do: live in a peaceful setting, surrounded by the ocean.

here.

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i’ll be graduating this june (i know, shocking). we are selling space in our yearbook for “personal congratulatory notes” for people you love (for example, me). if you’re interested in buying a space, let me know.

or, if you own a business, you can buy a space for an ad.

we’d love to get your money.

: )

…a walk while talking to my Jesus and stopping for a bit and seeing my beautiful mountains in the distance.

…eating the chicken i’ve been craving for the past week.

…tears as we “appreciated” the birthday girl(s).

…holding my skinny baby jack, kissing my chubby bronwyn, and giggling with my gabriel boy.

…having the coolest candles on our cakes.

…pink flip-flops (i do love my flip-flops), three new books, beautiful summer pajamas, and a new outfit in blue (with accessories).

…american idol after it all.

…going to bed.

now that i’ve totally confused all of you. the actual date of my birthday is march 15. we’re celebrating early because we wanted to do it when she was around.

keep your birthday wishes until the 15th. : )

my hands smell like hair color right now. one more time, i have donned a “redken” apron, black gloves, and am coloring hair. yeah, don’t get any ideas — i’m not doing yours. this is a side sort of thing. rather fun to do once, but done after one time. the hair industry is not for me.

last night, i snuggled with my two oldest babies and watched a bit of monsters inc. i do believe that was one of the better parts of my week. i keep telling myself that during the summer and next fall i’ll have more time to visit sisters, bake, take walks, and do all of the lovely things i wish i had time for now. i just don’t know if that will actually happen.

i think a wisdom tooth is coming in. it’s a rather strange sensation.

tomorrow night (yes, tuesday) we’ll be celebrating the two march birthdays. i do love my birthday!

“I certainly have not the talent which some people possess,” said Darcy, “of conversing easily with those I have never seen before. I cannot catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their concerns, as I often see done.”

“My fingers,” said Elizabeth, “do not move over this instrument in the masterly manner which I see so many women’s do. They have not the same force or rapidity, and do not produce the same expression. But then I have always supposed it to be my own fault — because I would not take the trouble of practising. It is not that I do not believe my fingers as capable as any other woman’s of superior execution.”

– Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen