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All in a Week’s Whirl

It’s been delicious madness around here lately. 

Between fun and food and friends and farting children and family {please notice the pause between children and family} and…fesign fork…I haven’t had a moment to sit down and tell you all about it in mind-numbing detail, as I am accustomed to doing.  {Clearly there’s no way to get ‘design work’ to start with an ‘f’ without it sounding anything but unkosher}. 

Did ya’ll miss me, huh, huh?

Don’t answer that unless it’s wildly kind and incredibly gracious.

I’ve been designing my little ample heinie off on everything from book covers and logos to wedding invitations and 6 foot banners.  I realized the other day that you’d never know that I actually design anything for rizzle beyond the little ditties on this blog, seeing my design blog hasn’t been updated in, I don’t know…2 years.  It’s not that I don’t care.  It’s just that…I don’t care right now.  If I have a moment to spare…I’d much rather spend it right here.  Simply blooming.  Emphasis on the ‘simply’. 

I’m cheesy, I know.  And I prefer it with a glass of moscato.

I’ve been so blown away by the 5 out-of-state clients I work with consistently {that stumbled upon my pathetic little blog by some act of God and decided to take a chance on me…and then promptly fell in love with my astonishingly delightful personality and wicked design skills cheap fees}…that the thought of much more work overwhelms me entirely.  How cool is that for this little never-had-a-design-class-in-her-life girl?

{He loves me!}

Once Mr. Bug scoots off to preschool and Madame Bean flits off full-time…I’ll attempt to make myself appear more professional and open for business.  Until then.  We eat.  Laugh.  Build forts.  Have dance-a-thons to the oft requested Jeremy Riddle.  Do zumba on a smashingly regular basis.  Take middle-of-the-day baths.  Bake, because it’s Wednesday.  Or 10:00am.  And continue to hope we’ll make it to the bathroom before he pees on my feet.  We attempt to get dressed before we spend yet another day in pajamas.  Oh, and there is always farting.  I do parent a 2 and a half year old boy, remember.  It’s a highlight of our his day.

I’m rambling.  I need sleep.  Or more tea.  Or both.

Moving right along.

A glance at some of the shenanigans we got up to…

All in a week's work

1.  I made these little suckers last night for no good reason at all.  And they’re fabulous {and relatively not-bad-for-you}.  Recipe coming soon!

2.  I decided to live on the edge and sprout wheat berries.  I’m wild like that.  We ate them on salads, on swiss oatmeal, and by the handful.  Because they’re sweet and yummy, and because they make me feel way more healthy and “granola” than I truly am, which – in turn – makes me feel much cooler than I am.  Which makes me smile on the inside.

3.  My lovely loin-fruit decided an impromptu worship session was in order.  They belted out a few versions of “we love you, Jesus!” with more raw passion than I’d ever witnessed in their little voices…and promptly followed it up with a less awe-inspiring rendition of “I love poopie” {Bug} and “I love wee wee” {Bean}.  It was a glorious cacophony indeed.

4.  We got artsy fartsy.  By far my favorite hand-print craft to date (Bug’s little mitt on top, Bean’s below).

5.  I roasted massive amounts of garlic and red peppers {simply drizzle whole bulb – top lopped off – with olive oil, bake at 400* for half an hour}.  The wee ones ate half a bulb, which they often do raw, with cheese…but this proved to be even more delectable.  And less nasally offensive.  I stashed a few roasted bulbs in the fridge for spontaneous clove urges.  We used the last bulb tonight with penne and sautéed veggies in a garlic white wine sauce…it was bliss.

6.  I broke out of my usual hummus rut, delicious as it may be, and threw in two of the red peppers I roasted and a few dashes of coriander {the spice I am currently having an affair with}.  It was fah-bulous!  We’re still eating it on sandwiches and with every vegetable in the house.  Including red peppers.  Because…

7.  We’re all about a good deal, so every time we’re at the grocery store, we scope out the “reduced vegetable” section and load up on colored peppers {among other things}.  We scored 15 gorgeous peppers for $3.50.  I chopped, sliced, froze and roasted my little heart out.

8.  We’ve been battling the yuckies around here for what feels like the entire Winter.  Despite the mild weather – which, admittedly, I’ve loved – it seems as though the lack of frigid temperatures has allowed all sorts of bugs to flourish.  After the 3rd time, in 2 months, of being knocked out by a virus, Bean fell fast asleep on top of a triple stack of sofa cushions while playing ‘mountain lion’.  Recovery is brutal, even for the wildest of cats.

9.  The spring cleaning bug has officially bitten and I’m slowly working my way through the scary closets, totes and corners that surround me.  You know the ones…the neglected, cluttered, hidden-for-mighty-good-reason ones.  The craft tote{s} have sneered at me for months.  I finally conquered them and consolidated their madness to one main location.  Watch out, hallway…you’re my next victim.  Mwah ha ha.

In other news…my husband evicted my wedding dress from the attic of the man cave, and while I haven’t the foggiest notion where to stash it now, I did cross my fingers, toes and legs and try it on for the first time in 8 years.  And, good golly miss molly, it fitted {insert sobs of joy here}.  Except for the chest area {insert sobs of self-pity here}.

I got to talk to a fabulous group of mommas last week about physical, spiritual and emotional wellness.  I loved it!  They survived.  Next, I get to talk to more lovely ladies later this month about upping the sizzle factor in their marriages.  Brown chicken, brown cow. 

And lastly {while I’m rambling}, my hubby and I are participating in a murder mystery dinner next weekend.  It’s an 80’s high school reunion theme, and we’re marching band sweethearts.  We can’t wait to don our mock marching band uniforms and ham it up for the night.  Who knows, we may even commit murder in the process.  Certainly makes for an interesting date night, now doesn’t it?

Over and out.

Related posts:

  1. Hormones, Crafts & Snow {this week, in no particular order)
  2. Whip It
  3. The Week in ‘P’s
  4. Peter Piper Picked
«
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Complete nonsense, Crafts and Activities, Daily Life, Designs, Family, Frugal Living, Keepin' it Real, The Kiddos

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Simply Bloom exists to empower women to embrace their stories, live out their passion with purpose, and leave a legacy of love.
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Hello there! I'm Joy. Speaker, designer, author & coach, and creator of the #weROARproject. Welcome to Simply Bloom Co., where passion & purpose collide.

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What if grace has been waiting for you where perfe What if grace has been waiting for you
where perfection never could take you?

This week on Oh, Good Grief, we wrap up our exploration of the 9 Enneagram types, and how each one engages grief, with Type One: The Reformer.

We'll explore the gift of integrity, the burden of the inner critic, and the freedom that comes when we stop striving to earn what God has already given.

The Enneagram may reveal the stories we've believed to survive.
But only grace tells us who we've been all along.

🎧 Episode 038 is available wherever you listen to podcasts.
From the front, our little apple tree is living he From the front, our little apple tree is living her best life: laden with fruit and bursting with life.

But that’s only half the story.

Take a walk around the backside and you’ll see something entirely different: a large branch, nearly a third of the tree, black and barren. Clearly diseased. Clearly dead. Clearly in need of pruning.

And yet, every time I walk past it on our evening loop around the campground behind our house, it catches me off guard. I forget it’s even there.

Maybe because I prefer to look at the fruitful side.

And isn’t that a little like us?

We’re pretty comfortable displaying the beautiful parts: the wins, the answered prayers, the accomplishments, the parts of life that look healthy and fruitful.

The broken parts? The grief. The struggling relationships. The things we’ve neglected. The places where we’re tired or hurting or simply not okay?

Those we tend to tuck around the backside, hoping no one notices.

But here’s the thing: what we hide still needs tending.

We don’t have to be ashamed of the barren branches. We don’t have to pretend they aren’t there. And we certainly don’t have to wait until everything looks beautiful before we allow ourselves to be honest.

Maybe growth does look like good fruit.

And maybe sometimes it looks like finally walking around back, taking an honest look, and saying, That needs to go.

Pruning isn’t failure.
It’s making room for what’s still alive.

And if you’ve got a few dead branches of your own right now, take heart. You are not the barren branch. You are the whole tree. 🌿

#SimplyBloomCo
If you are a Nine, my prayer is that you would nev If you are a Nine, my prayer is that you would never lose your gift of bringing calm, compassion, and steadiness into a fractured world.

Those are beautiful reflections of the heart of Christ.

But may you also discover that your voice is not an interruption, your needs are not an inconvenience, and your presence is not optional. May you become the kind of peacemaker who tells the truth with love, receives love without shrinking, and lives fully awake to the life God has entrusted to you.

May you know, deep in your soul, that you don't have to disappear to belong.
What if the peace you've been protecting has come What if the peace you've been protecting
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Nines have an incredible gift for helping others feel safe, seen, and understood.
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🎧 Episode 037 is available wherever you listen to podcasts.
Permission Granted. In case you needed someone t Permission Granted. 

In case you needed someone to tell you: yes, you should absolutely make the impromptu stop at the roadside farm stand and buy the $5 bouquet of flowers.

No, you do not need a reason.

No, you do not need to be buying them for someone else (although that is a perfectly lovely thing to do, too).

Buy them for yourself.
Put them in your kitchen.
Smile every time you walk past them. 🌸

And support your local flower growers and farm stands while you’re at it.

That is all.

You may now return to your regularly scheduled scrolling.
If you are an Eight, my prayer is that you would n If you are an Eight, my prayer is that you would
never lose your fierce love for justice, your courage,
or your willingness to protect those who cannot protect themselves. 

Those are holy gifts.

But may you also discover the freedom of being protected yourself.
May you find people with whom you no longer need armor. And may you know, deep in your bones, that the God who fights for you is inviting you to rest...
not because you're weak, but because you were never meant to carry every battle alone.
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Our expectations for peach season were high.

Turns out, that tree was throwing itself a retirement party.
It died the following year.

We’ve since planted two more. The one that has always been unproductive surprised us this summer with these gorgeous, generous peaches. The healthy, established tree that usually produces? One. Single. Peach.

Fruit-bearing is an interesting thing.
Unpredictable. Relatively unmanageable.
Sometimes delicious and sometimes disappointing.

And maybe that’s why I love the reminder it offers:
performance isn’t always a good indicator
of what’s happening beneath the surface.

Take heart, dear one.

Some seasons, you’ll crush the to-do list,
accomplish the goals and have plenty to show for yourself.

Other seasons, you’ll simply keep showing up.
Quietly. Consistently. Faithfully.

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If you identify with the Enneagram 7, my prayer fo If you identify with the Enneagram 7, my prayer
for you is that you would never lose your capacity
for wonder, laughter, creativity, and hope.

Those are sacred gifts.

But may you also discover the freedom of staying present
when life feels heavy. May you trust that joy does not disappear
when sorrow arrives. May you find that God is not only present
in the moments of celebration, but also in the quiet,
painful places you once tried to avoid.

The One who created your joy can also hold your grief.

You are loved.
Follow @SimplyBloomJoy

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