Favorite Christmas Songs

Of course we're doing this thing old school.  The first reminds me of my dad; he actually has this in vinyl from when he was a little one.  My dad's record collection borders on EPIC and I don't think he even realizes it.  Mom, if you are reading this, make sure the record player is hooked up for Christmas and we'll show my husband how it's done.  Gene Autry followed by John Denver? :)

 

Is there an app for that?

It seems like there's an app for almost anything you can think of these days.  I have apps that would make men blush...we'll it an interactive calendar.  *ahem*  I've got an app for organizing prayer lists, apps with literally over a hundred books...

...but still nothing that helps me vacuum...or clean the vacuum.

Blood, sweat, and tears will always get the job done, no matter how far technology comes.

Style Sunday

I do some of my deepest thinking wearing white gloves.  Don't you?

Feminine Ideal

I find it fascinating how the feminine ideal evolves over time.  Just look at the woman in the picture above.   Her demeanor is so quiet and pleasant and her beauty unobstructed by bells and baubles.  I long to be like that woman, but often times I am struck by the want for sparkle and shine. 

Titus 2: 12

"Teaching us that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly, in this present world"

There's Nothing Like...

Chatting it up with your girlfriends. :)  

Bows, Flowers, and other Girly Things

Wow, I really wish I could pull off a giant flower attached to the bodice of my dress!  

Does it say, "Come, dance with me brave suitor!" 

...or does it say, "This flower has to speak on my behalf because it is the extent of my depth and personality?"

I prefer to think it would lead to dancing.

Viva la Cha Cha flower loving gals!

A Mirror

Most of the time I pass by a mirror, I try to scoot along without catching any more than a glimpse of myself.

  

...but then there is that sacred time under the dark cloak of morning, when lit by those irritating luminescent bulbs, I plaster over every pore and enhance my natural color, playing up the best feature God gave me (such as they are), and for those 10 minutes, I allow myself to pass inspection.  I reflect upon my body with as much happiness as I can muster, and all the thankfulness in the world, that any complaint I might venture to lodge against the way I am created, is small and petty.

For that, I feel blessed by ten small minutes and a mirror.