New Adventures of Mine

  I used to think of books of prayers the way I used to think of baseball tees-a last resort to be used only after you'd realized you couldn't do what you should be able to do on your own. After all, I'm a Cristian (and an informed one at that), so shouldn't I have enough knowledge and thoughts and feelings in my heart and in my head to be able to pray a heartfelt prayer to my God? Well, my son is a baseball player, so shouldn't he be able to hit a ball that's pitched to him? Ideally, yes, but sometimes he needs a little help; sometimes he needs the tee. He's still using hand-eye coordination, and he's still swinging the bat and feeling it connecting with the ball. When I pray a prayer I've read in a book, I'm still connecting with my Father in Heaven. My perspective is still changed, and my heart is looking Heavenward-I just needed a little help, a little nudge in the right direction. There is no shame in a book of prayers. There is no s...

 Good morning, Stewey here.  I have a few hours before work, so I am reading a book called, Writing Tools  by Roy Clark.  In the little free time I have, I like to write.  I write poetry, and short stories, both fiction and non-fiction.  As I have precious little time before work, I will get back to my reading.  Before I go, though, I must confess that although I once adhered to the rules of grammar religiously, I have become much more lax in that area, and I find myself whole-heartedly agreeing with a quote from E.B. White (author of Winnie the Pooh), "Writing is an act of faith, not a trick of grammar."

 Good morning, my name is Stewey.  That's not my real name, of course; my real name's Cassandra.  I've been known as Stewey ever since I was 7, and I went around the neighborhood collecting weeds, rocks, pinecones, and just about anything else from neighbors' yards, and mixed it all in a bucket with dirty rain water, and proudly presented my "stew" to my mother.  Ever since then, I've been Stewey. My husband is Stucky, but his real name is Fred.  Apparently, he was driving all over town in his truck with a bunch of his baseball buddies in high school.  Fred got a nail in his tire, pulled off the road, and had to crawl under his truck to see the damage.  Fred was a pretty big guy, in fact, I think the guys were headed to an all-you-can-eat pizza buffet, and he got stuck.  His buddies, ever encouraging, stood around laughing, and chanting that Fred had gotten, "Stucky under his trucky."  The nickname stuck-no pun intended. Shortly after high sc...

  A friend just told me tonight that I can become a librarian, WITHOUT HAVING TO GO TO SCHOOL, I can work from home, and I can choose the books I will carry. I can even choose the clientele. Apparently, there are quite a number of home libraries that lend out their books, not just to friends, but some are open to the public. You can also choose to loan your books only to homeschooling families. I am going to look further into this, and I'm not committing to anything right now, but if I do go public, my library will be called Green House Books . . . because it will be located in our green house.

 Mr. M and I have been married for 28 years . . . and yet the house we recently purchased will be the first house we will be buying together.  You see, he already lived in the house we have lived in for our entire married lives when he proposed to me.  We planned to stay here for the entirety of our earthly journey.  Who knew how much room a baby needs???  (Not just the baby, but the babies' food, toys, clothes, etc. etc.). This is the reason we are both so disproportionally stoked about buying a new home, a home that will truly reflect who we are (and we've had 28 years to figure that out), and a new home that will represent who we want to be.  We have designed the majority of the house ourselves, with one eye on the present, and the other eye on the future.  (You may be wondering why, between the two of us, we have only two eyes . . . it is because the Bible says that when a man and a woman marry, they become one flesh.)      It may se...

  I was talking with a friend about 30 years ago about our trains of thought, and how one thought connects so seamlessly to another seemingly unrelated thought. So I thought about my thoughts as I sat and drank my hot cacao from my cute, little, new french press. I bought this french press because I had already bought this ground cacao that boasts many health benefits, with no sugar. Then I had a thought; in my search for a french press, I had seen a really fun-looking retro press, but passed it by because it cost twice as much. BUT, we are planning to move into a larger home soon, which will make being hospitable much easier, so maybe it would be worth it to spend some more on a cuter french press. SO . . . during the time it took me to drink my cacao, I had one thought, but that one thought consisted of several thoughts: everything started with wanting a healthier drink-that's what led to buying the cacao and french press. Then, I thought about our new home, and how we wan...