Anniversary Number 9

I love my anniversary presents!  Last year, we began a new tradition.  We go to the Louisburg Cider Mill the weekend before or after our anniversary (number 9 this year!), and I get to pick out my anniversary presents from the bounty that awaits me when I walk through their creaky swinging metal doors.

Only this year, we went during Cider Fest, so I also got to choose from the wonderful handmade goodies in the rows of booths outside the store!  Honestly, we were having so much fun outside the store that we didn't even make it inside.  I chose some hair ribbons, fabric bookmarks, lavender hand lotion, orange lip balm, a cute little fabric credit card holder (I use these for gift cards, coupons, etc. more than credit cards), a soldered charm with the letter C to use on a chain or leather (I can only wear sterling silver or platinum, so I have to be kind of choosy), cinnamon spiced pecans, kettle corn, cider doughnuts, and CIDER, of course!!

The boys were happy, because they got to play in a multitude of colorful, blown-up structures.  And Mike got to talk to two people he knew.  It happens very rarely, when we go out, that he sees someone he knows and I don't see anyone I know.  Apparently I know a lot of people.  Or at least, I know their faces.  Their names... well, let's just say I know their faces.

Mike also spent quite a while gabbing (do men actually gab?  or do they just... converse?) with a man who builds log cabins... oh, the dream of a cozy log cabin on some luscious rolling hills, with a greenhouse, some chickens, a cow named Molly, and a meandering stream that winds its way through sprawling acres of land... and then I woke up and realized that we still live smack-dab in the middle of suburbia.  But we can dream of log cabins, and verbalize (can you tell I went to thesauraus.com and looked up "talk" -- because I totally did) with people who actually live the dream.

A couple of weeks ago, when Borders was still in business (what a sad "before" and "after" that is!!), we went to their establishment and I purchased -- oh, the excitement of book-purchasing!!  It should not be called "buying," for that overused word does not convey the depth of what it means to walk out of a store owning a little piece of someone's heart that they have uncovered on paper for the world to read (much like a blog, but I digress) -- I acquired a lovely book called The City Homesteader: Self-Sufficiency on Any Square Footage by Scott Meyer.  Ideas galore!  I can't wait to dive in to the depths of this volume of inspiration.

Okay, I am now closing thesaurus.com and am going back to using my regular vocabulary.  I mean dialogue.  I mean words.  I mean... sorry, I couldn't help it.

Here is a random picture from our week, because I can't just type a blog and not post a picture as well.

This beautiful lady took up residence in our home on Wednesday of this past week, which just happened to be our actual anniversary date!  She sounds absolutely charming, and the boys love her as much as I do.  I can't wait to begin their "formal music training," i.e. piano lessons!  Bring on the Alfred books!  I will be re-learning right along with them.  The wonderful family who gifted us with this piano -- they only requested that we have her moved professionally so as to spare her, and our backs, any harm -- also gave us some music that was stored in the bench, so the day after she (I don't have a name for her yet, can you tell?  She is a Winter spinet... any suggestions?) came to our home, I sat down and tinkered around with a lovely little piece called, "Wild Honeysuckle Rag," which appealed to me right up until the word "rag," but that's its name, so I suppose I can't change that unfortunateness.

I know, I know, a rag means something different in music, but it can have so many different meanings... we weren't ever allowed to call a towel -- no matter how old, dirty, stained and torn -- a "rag" when I worked at McDonald's.  Oh, no.  It was always deemed a "towel," right up until its counter-wiping days were over and it was laying in a trash heap somewhere.  I still can't call my towels rags.  Habit, I guess.

Sunday is my school-planning day for the week ahead, and when I sat down at my computer at the dining room table I had every good intention of starting that.  So now I will actually go and do that.  My childrens' brains will thank me -- later, maybe years later, but they will thank me!