The Quest for Blue Sky

"Rain, rain, rain," Robert chanted glumly, staring out the window with a scowl on his face. "I hate the rain."

Annie squinted hopefully at the sky. "I think it might be trying to clear off."

"No," said Robert, the eternal pessimist. "It's going to rain forever. Forever and ever and ever."

"Becca, don't you think it's clearing up?" Annie persisted, turning to the third person in the room.

Becca looked up from her book. "Hm?" she said vaguely, obviously not having heard a word of the preceding conversation.

"Good luck trying to get anything sensible out of Becca," Robert grumbled. "She's done nothing but read ever since we got here. What's the point of going to the country on vacation if you're going to read all day, every day!"

Becca carefully put her bookmark back to mark her place, and set the bok aside, a tolerant smile on her plain but pleasant face. "Well, it's better than complaining about the weather, isn't it?"

"There!" Annie said, pointing out the window. "There's some blue sky!"

"But it's still raining here," Robert said. He sighed. Robert was not really a disagreeable boy; he was just bitterly disappointed. He'd been looking forward to this country vacation--no parents, no school, no city, just an elderly aunt and uncle who had the good sense to leave children to their own devices--ever since he'd heard his parents discussing the possibility last winter. Now the long-anticipated vacation was here, and so far it had done nothing but rain for three days, trapping the siblings inside.

Annie, the ever-hopeful, kept making plans about everything they could do outside when the rain stopped; Becca delved into their uncle's extensive library and was happy as a mole in the ground. Robert, lacking his younger sister's sanguine temperament or his elder sister's adaptability, was left fretting.

Becca watched her brother thoughtfully as he kicked his heels gloomily against the window seat. For all that her brother and sister always thought her head in the clouds, Becca was as keen an observer of human nature as she was of literary treasures, and she had a soft spot for poor Robert: a boy sandwiched between two sisters, a lad who longed for great adventure and the wild outdoors when he lived in a tiny apartment in the crowded city.

"Annie's right," she said, standing up decisively. "There is blue sky out there. Come on, you two, get your mud boots and rain jackets."

""It's pouring out here," Annie said uncertainly. "Why don't we just wait until the rain stops? I'm sure it will clear up soon." She had been saying the same thing for three days now.

"We're not going to wait," Becca said, shooing them in front of her toward the hall closet like a hen ushering her chicks to the coop. "If there's blue sky, we're going to find it."

Robert's eyes began to sparkle. "A quest! The Search for Sunshine."

"But it's almost lunchtime," Annie protested.

"We'll ask Auntie to pack us some sandwiches," Becca said, diving into the closet and tossing boots and coats out randomly. Robert ducked as one of Uncle's wellingtons narrowly missed his nose. "My backpack's water resistant, so I'll carry our food in that."

Anne was still unsure, but Becca  didn't wait for any more objections. She left the other two pulling on their rain gear while she hunted Auntie down and begged a picnic lunch off her. In a surprisingly short amount of time, the three were outdoors.

The rain was still pouring out of the sky, and the ground was soggy underfoot, but the air was marvelously fresh and clean, and the fields and woods beckoned alluringly. Off in the distance, the patch of blue sky seemed to wave them forward.

"Right, Robert," Becca said, adjusting her glasses on her nose and wishing for the hundredth time that they came with little windshield wipers. "You're the leader of this expedition. Take us to the blue sky!"

Robert pointed forward with Uncle's walking stick he had borrowed. "Onward!" he cried.

In a straight line, the intrepid siblings marched forward, seeking their adventure.


No especial point to this, just a little sketch that wanted a home. So I gave it one.

hair: a pain, it is

I'm getting my hair colored in less than one week. This has proven to be a surprisingly difficult task. What color do I want? Do I just do highlights, or go all out? Do I go red, strawberry, auburn, or blonder? (We already ruled out brown)

This is what my hair looks like now:

I think the color is officially known as dark ash blonde. I call it drab. I've been leaning toward getting it much lighter, instead of messing with red. This is what I think I want, but I can't tell if it is too drastic a change:

I don't want to go full-out platinum, but I love the pale gold look.

So here's my question: Is it too drastic to go from dark ash to near-platinum? Will it look good on me? Since I only get my hair colored once a year, will it look too dreadful as it grows out?

I guess that's more like three questions. I would definitely appreciate people's opinions, since Carl's not much help in this area, and my all-time fashion consultant, Lis, is too busy to answer my every question.

Also, if you have any suggestions of anything you think might work better, I'm interested in those, too!

Simple Pleasures

Both girls, amazingly enough, are napping. French bread to go with supper tonight (homemade chicken and wild rice soup) is rising in the kitchen. The sun is shining so brightly that I have the front door to the porch open to catch every bit of natural warmth and light possible.

The quilt I am tying for Joy is partially done; I will work on that as soon as I have the bread in the oven. I borrowed part of the first season of Alias from our library, and Sydney Bristow is helping me quilt.

Yesterday I wrote out several different lists for this week: Things to do; Menu; Pack--Louise; Pack--Girls. This is necessary; I am so scatter-brained that without lists I never can remember everything that needs to get done. Plus, I feel such a thrill in checking things off when they are completed. The packing lists, obviously, won't be needed until Friday or Saturday, but I've already started checking items off the Things to do list, and I feel pretty good about that.

Grandpa's progressing well--thank you all for your prayers. Dad is tired, but also doing well (considering he has to try to balance work, pastoring, and being with Grandpa).

Carl's Bible Study last night went not at all as expected, but phenomenally well; giving him one of the best conversations he's had with anyone in the last several months (except me. Naturally.). I had a lovely, lovely conversation with Laura while Carl was gone, all about books and movies made from books and more books.

Spur-of-the-moment this morning I made pancakes for Joy and me, a special treat that we both enjoyed, all the more because of its unexpectedness.

We go to the chiropractor this afternoon.

NCIS is on tonight.

Life is good. God is good.

Not quite a multitude

I admit it: I totally failed at keeping up with my gratitude list this week. I do, however, have two items which have sort of overwhelmed everything else.

I am thankful:

• that I get to spend a week at home starting next Sunday
• that my grandfather is still alive

To take those in reverse order:

Every Thursday, my dad and grandfather go out together for supper. This past week, Grandpa wasn't sure about going; he'd been suffering from shortness of breath all week and didn't really want to do anything to make it worse. He decided to go, however, and by the time they were done eating told Dad he hated to say it, but he really thought he ought to go to the emergency room. Dad agreed.

Once there, they found out Grandpa had several blood clots in his lungs, and if they'd waited much longer to come in, he would, as they put it to Dad, have gone out horizontal. As it was they put him on blood thinners and are keeping him for a week, and then he should be able to go home. Vertical.

Grandpa's 84. I know, theoretically, that his time here on earth is limited. But he's always, always been a rock-solid part of my life, and I found out this week how unready I am to let him go. I am glad God is letting us have him a bit longer, and thankful too that we got this warning jolt, to remind all of us in the family to cherish the time we have left with him. Because he's not going to be around forever.

(Incidentally, I'm also glad the Lord didn't decide to take him while he and Dad were at dinner. That just would have been too much for Dad to bear.)

As for the other, Mom is coming down on Saturday, and she's taking the girls and me back for the week, to be joined by Carl on Wednesday afternoon. I am most emphatically not looking forward to not seeing Carl for  two and a half days, but oh, a few days of extra help, of no responsibilities, of a yard in which Joy can play (provided it doesn't rain all week), of being able to visit Grandpa and tell him how much we love him and let him meet Gracie for the first time, of family ...

It's helping me get through the sleep-broken nights and frustrating days.

And I am thankful.

Aimless

I've never understood it when people say they have nothing to blog about. I always have a million blog posts running through my head.

Today, I have nothing to blog about.

Oh, I could talk about how little sleep I'm getting ... or about how frustrating it is when my stubborn two-year-old Will Not Nap and then is miserable and disobedient the rest of the day ... or cheer myself up slightly with talking about how the girls and I are going up to my folks for the entire week of Thanksgiving ... or ask you all your opinion on what color I should do for my hair (I'm getting it trimmed and highlighted when I go home, and I can't decide between auburn, strawberry, or light blonde) ... or talk about the blog post, and then the news article on two completely different issues that both really angered me this morning ... or about how it's either really funny or really cool that Elvis Stojko is releasing a music single and I can't decide which ...

There are plenty of things I could write about. I just don't really have the ambition or the energy to write about any of them. Nothing seems particularly interesting.

I think I'll go speak sternly to Joy again about disobeying Mamma (I can hear her kicking and talking loudly in bed after I told her to be quiet (which is not out of meanness, but because when she is loud and active she does not chatter herself to sleep, like some kids, but gets herself more worked up until she forgets that she's supposed to be napping and gets up to play. Same reason she's not allowed to read in bed--instead of reading herself to sleep, she reads and then gets up to play.)) and get myself some lunch and sit down with the most recent Mary Russell book I got out from the library. I'm cruising through the series--up to Book 7 already! What will I do when I've read them all?

In the meantime, I think it's a day to be cozy in my sweatpants and not think too hard.

Someone just got out of bed. Have to go!