I just want to first make it clear that I once spent TWO HOURS writing a post detailing the second half of October and it got deleted. I was devastated. Two hours I’ll never get back! Apparently, I was so devastated I quit blogging for a few months.

I fully enjoy writing, and if I don’t do it everyday I go a little crazy which is why my husband commissioned this piece of jewelry for me for Christmas:

And please do yourself a favor by “liking” the page of the woman who made my lovely bling. Clella Belle Beads is downright darling.

So confession: I’ve still been writing, I just haven’t been sharing. Isn’t that weird? I tell you everything. My Glass House has suddenly been boarded up, I guess. I’m still struggling to write in this space, but I still pay my monthly fee to keep it up. I’m hoping this is a phase, one that will pass and one in which I’ll bounce back from like a frickin’ Hydra. Where there was once one head, awful circumstances chopped it off and I grew two back… or something like that.

I love my calling right now. I love to sit at the organ every Sunday and hide behind an array of bright, glowing buttons. The hymns are one way my Father in Heaven speaks directly to me. Playing them, reading them, hearing them, being so closely involved with them every week has proved to be one of my greatest blessings in life.

A few weeks, ago we sang “Ring Out, Wild Bells.” Have you ever head it? It’s no pep rally.
“The year is dying in the night. Ring out, wild bells and let it die.”

As I played this song, I just wanted to cry (who doesn’t, right? Thanks, Tennyson).
But honestly, this year has been very hard in a lot of ways -some obvious, some not. I’m happy to see it go. I want to wash my hands of it, and the last thing I want to do is document much of it here. I’m fine documenting what I’ve learned from it, but as far as the WHAT of this year… let it die.

I’m happy to post some pictures of the good -always more than happy to post pictures of the good. There’s good everywhere, you know? Even in a house full of sick people (that’s us), there’s still tons of good.
For example *ahem* the fish are alive! This is good news, people. Lacy had a beautiful pink fish for 5 whole years until Trenton decided to put his hands in the tank… like 15 times in one hour. The next morning, the hardy little fish (seriously don’t know how it survived so long!) was at long last dade.
We buried it, per Lacy’s request. Trenton took the money he’s earning daily by shoveling dog poop (it builds character, right?) and bought her a new one. He also bought himself a very small shark-fish, and the next morning? Dade.
We traded them in for alive fish, and today BOTH fish are alive. That’s good.

I not only survived nine weeks of my husband working out of town for training, but I THRIVED. I owned those weeks. That’s good.

We stayed in our budget for Christmas! That’s good.
We didn’t send out half of our Christmas cards. That’s not wholly good, but not wholly bad. Yahoo for fence sitting?
Santa knew what Lacy wanted, “even though I didn’t know about it, know that what it was, but I did want it, but I didn’t know…” (what she was trying to say through her half-awake state was simply that all she asked Santa for was piano books, but he brought her a loom as well). That’s good.

Santa ordered a guitar for Trenton online only to have it arrive and be SO SMALL (but still so pricey!) and then was able to sneak in a Wal-Mart special two days before Christmas. That’s good.

Alice got everything she didn’t know she wanted, either. That’s good.

Love that little overwhelmed, angry face.
Too much joy! Too much wrapping! Too much, too much, too much!

Alice did something marvelous and turned ONE. It was by far the simplest little one year old party I’ve ever done, but she couldn’t care less. She tore into her hostess cupcake with true determination, and I love her for it. That’s good.

Lacy did something marvelous and turned SEVEN.

Trenton did something marvelous and learned how to take selfies.

All good! All good things.

As for ringing in the new, we ended up in the ER with Alice who drank some clear, liquid sunscreen (the poor dear), and we’ve all been taking turns being sickly.

Today is definitely my turn. I’m curled up in bed under a thick blanket, teeming with aches and mucus.
But I’ve got my crochet hook, and that’s good.