Happiness is the object and design of our existence; and will be the end thereof, if we pursue the path that leads to it; and this path is virtue, uprightness, faithfulness, holiness, and keeping all the commandments of God.”
~Joseph Smith
This Moment…
A Saturday joy. A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from our world.
A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to savor and remember.
If you’re inspired to do the same, leave a link to your ‘moment’ in the comments for us.
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Happy Birthday Jillian!
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Please tell us your favorite Comfort Foods~~click HERE
A Few Lovely Things
Simple finger food…
cozy sweater hugs…
amazing, sweet friends…
baby Conference notes…
pink twirly skirts…
unexpected snowflakes…
“big girl” undershirts…
second generation softness…
and very, very brave garden buds…
What is lovely in your world this week?
Highland Fling
Today my dears, is National Tartan Day. Yes, yes–that’s what I said.
So you know, a tartan is the plaid, woven cloth that Scottish kilts are made out of. In the old days Scottish families were distinguished by the different tartans they wore. The richer you were, or the more “noble” your family line–the more colors you were allowed to use in your family cloth.
For those of us with a fair bit of Scottish in our blood–we’ll take any excuse to share some lovely pictures—especially when my cute little daddy is in them.
Here are the two Scotties themselves–“Uncle Joe Johnston,” who really wasn’t our uncle at all–but a beloved adopted cousin, and my dad at the family reunion long, long ago. The green kilt is the Johnston tartan–our family plaid, and the red one is the Royal Stewart tartan–one of the most popular plaids.
Here is the cute guy competing in the Scottish Caber Toss. It’s a real simple sport where all you have to do is take a log the size of a telephone pole–almost–and toss it so that it falls end over end.
Easy–you say?
Simple even…
But with or without a kilt, I’m certainly not doing it.
Happy Tartan day.
Wear plaid.
Throw logs.
Eat haggis…
or kiss a Scotsman.
Gerard Butler
heh…
Rumple House
The first time a neighbor came in and saw my girls playing in a made up “tent” she nearly fainted. I suppose it looked like maybe we’d had a private, one house earthquake. But no–it’s just that we found that the sturdiest and most amazing tents–or Rumple Houses–as Lyndi used to call them, are made from cushions and blankets—lots of blankets, and…
furniture. Yes, that’s what I said.
If you’ve never made one before–oh, what you’re missing!
Yes, that is a chair and an end table in there somewhere sheltering a couple of happy kids and the perfect plate of brownie cookies. We liked our “rumple house” that way. They were a lovely thing and liable to stay stacked up and played in and slept in–merrily–for days. Usually until someone a bit too rational and ordered was on their way over, then down it would would all come…like it had never happened.
Some people just wouldn’t understand.
One of the girls’ little friends came to play once in the middle of our “tenting” adventure and said, “Oooooh…you guys are going to be in trou-ble. Just wait till your mom sees what you did!”
Of course, that’s when one of them piped up–“Oh, she helped us tip over the rocker—it was too heavy for us.”
Guilty as charged.
But she came in and romped and played all afternoon and left saying, “I’m going to see if my mom will let us have a rumple house.”
Good luck with that.
So, if you are one of those staunchy souls who are inclined to say, “No, no. Bad mom,” –be warned. We’ll likely just chuckle…
and invite you in.
You’ll love it…
and…
we have cookies.
