to Him Who is able

I'm sitting at Panera with my mother, in the midst of outdated music, sticky tables and a ton of people wearing chacos. (Downtown is the place to go is you're searching for chaco wearing peeps apparently. No  that I'm searching for chaco wearing peeps, but if I was, then I know where to go.)  I'm posting, she's planning school and we're both inhaling the wonderful smell of freshly baked bread...and waiting for sister-dear to get done with play practice. (My soon-to-be-star of a sister is currently in a production of Les Miserables.) I have been desperately trying my hardest to post recent pictures of a gorgeous little girl girl I've taken, but unfortunately our growing-old computer isn't letting me. I have shed tears over this situation because I get frustrated easily and  I'm selfish and ridiculous and I want to post my pictures!  So instead of posting pictures from my amazing camera, all edited and made beautiful, I'll post a few p...

...who reads a very well written, amazingly inspiring, just plain happy blog and then feels like a good writer and inspired and happy and in the mood to write a post full of  cool words combined to make sentences that give people the same chills I just got.   I'm the kind of person who sits down on the lawn chair used for the computer, in the midst of boys throwing pillows and jumping from the sofa to a mattress, fully prepared to write something great.   I'm the kind of person who then realizes this: I have nothing exciting to write about.   I'm the kind of person who, after reading about families dealing with weddings and new babies and all things grand, feels almost bored with my own life.   But then a 2 year old princess walks out from her nap. Her hair is a mess, she's dragging her worn-out blanket and has her pudgy little arms wrapped around a fluffy dog toy with pink bows on it's ears. She comes to me and climbs right into my lap and then...