my sister

my sister now has a blog It is titled midnight runs. I, like my sister have an infatuation with Mcdonalds coke. I am not sure what their little secret is, but the fizz to coke taste ratio is nothing less than perfect. Not to syrupy. not to gassy. just right. another thing my sister and I love, (that she has yet to admit to on her blog) is our love for fish filet sandwiches from Mcdonalds. Yes, that greasy little fish sandwich with a lump of tarter sauce all wrapped up in the baby blue wrapper. This is our little secret, and we will gladly drive late at night to indulge in this nasty little habit. Hence, the title of Whitney's blog. Whitney is a lot of fun and has seemingly inherited the perpetual youth gene for our family. Her fun-ness is important to me and helps me walk a little lighter. It is good that God puts us in families. He must know how incomplete we would be without each other. families remind us of seasons, the "time for's" of our life. and whit and I would both agree there is a time for coke, at mcdonalds, preferably midnight, any day of the week.

green for spring

It is sunny here today in the STL and almost 70 degrees. In light of this glimpse into spring, I have updated my "colors" to suit the mood. Green it is. For a good laugh, click....hilarious.
http://www.whiteboydj.com/babygotbook/

a long pause

Sorry for the silence during the holidays. We have been gone alot- and then recovering from being gone. It is also so rainy up here this winter. and cold. yuck. I need a beach. Josh and I saw a good movie over the holiday- Spainglish. Perhaps most enjoyed after a week with family- a way to "process" the dysfunction that is us. This movie, with its sad realities, also allows for a few laughs. You just have to laugh at times at your life. A bundle of giggles we all are. I think Annie Dillard writes somewhere that day after day God watches "our dancing bear act" without blowing us to peices, that believe it or not, it's ok to be people. I suppose she means thats its ok to be a mess, that Jesus loves us-still. Happy new year folks.

winter

winter
Originally uploaded by brookejared.

Those Winter Sundays

by Robert Hayden 

Sundays too my father got up early 

and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold, 

then with cracked hands that ached 

from labor in the weekday weather made 

banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him. 

I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking. 

When the rooms were warm, he'd call, 

and slowly I would rise and dress, 

fearing the chronic angers of that house, 

speaking indifferently to him, 

who had driven out the cold 

and polished my good shoes as well. 

What did I know, what did I know 

of love's austere and lonely offices?

I have loved this poem for a long time. I am in the process of writing an essay about my experience as a nurse, mostly about how much I have struggled to love my job.I know this poem is about a father and a son, but the words have been on my m ind this week. Sometimes the work we do out of love is lonley and austere. As for the photo, it is not mine, but I liked it.