It Does a Body Good

I have this thing for milk.
I pray I never become lactose intolerant.

There are days when the only thing that is going to quell the urge to shovel things down my gullet is milk. Cold Cold milk.

I'm pretty sure it's hormonal, but I haven't figured out which part of the cycle is craving it... I'll have like a week where I'll drink nearly a litre a day, then a week where I don't even think of it, then a day of OH MY GOSH I NEED MILK... and it'll never be enough milk, and I'm sloshing inside.

This is one of those weeks where the milk is going fast in the house, except I've been at work a lot so I've been drinking it there. Early this morning I was getting ready to head to Breakfast Club and needed to have a first breakfast. Breakfast Club doesn't start till 10.  I was hit with a wave of Finish.All.The.Milk. When this sort of thing happens, it's like I'm trying to win a chugging contest. My mouth opens and things go in and... well... it's almost embarrassing.

This morning there was only a quarter of the bag of milk left, so I indulged myself in a guilty childhood pleasure.

Drinking right from the bag.

I can almost hear my mother yelling at me.

I opened and greedily poured the bag into my throat... In the first second I knew there was something wrong. by the time I could start to react I'd already gulped twice... three times... the bag was nearly empty as I was able to pull it away...

pull it away before the biggest of the chunks from the bottom of the bag fell in my mouth.

yeah.

that happened.

Shudder.

I think I can probably make it the rest of the day without another drink of milk.

First breakfast

A million years ago,  or according to my archives- 3 years ago,  we folded our "BELLS" group.

Blessing, Eat, Listen, Learn, Sentness

Sort of a liturgy for us hobbits.
Something to use to gather with other likeminded folk and give direction and intention to our togetherness. 

Sentness has always been my favourite to reflect on. Where have I been sent?  Where have I seen God's hand in my life this week?  As someone who has decided to consciously seek joy, this is an activity I can really sink my teeth into.

I miss our old BELLS group. Life got too busy, and some people felt they were carrying the lion's share of the effort to keep it running. We all were burnt out. And it started to feel like a burden. Funny,  because we all came because we were burnt out... or had been burned and needed a safe place to figure out our own faith.

Before BELLS we were doing church at GTI, before that we had a home church... before that ...  most of our group just didnt "fit" in.

Tomorrow a group of those hobbots are getting together again. We haven't got any plans for anything other than breakfast. No books to study,  no video series to learn from, no expectations, no ... anything. Just breakfast,  breaking bread. So of course we're calling it "the breakfast club".

I'm excited to be in community again.
F you 2013.

not even monday bunday.

Finally moved the kitchen table back into the kitchen... sad day.

Though, for a good cause- breakfast.

More specifically, Elevensies.

Sometimes known as Brunch, though edging into the lunching hour.

My little sister had a birthday this weekend- I figured a table was one of those things she'd appreciate at her celebration meal... though, I wonder if she'd have preferred dance hall breakfast?

Anyway, snow, thaw, snow, thaw, thaw... daffs are up, snow, thaw, snow... the rabbit is in full molt. Have you ever seen a rabbit in molt? CHUNKS of fur falling out. A constant tumbleweed of fluff rolling across the floor.

I'm vacuuming daily...

As an ROUS, Pontouff is filling the vacuum canister daily.

Moving the table from the back room to the kitchen created a haze of fur and has left me sneezing like none other. Apparently there was a "drift" of fur in the back corner behind the table that I wasn't reaching when vacuuming... it was set free when the table was pulled away.

ug.

Brunch. 2nd breakfast

I hosted "family brunch" this morning.... I first started to blog this morning before breakfast, but decided that the "it's about to happen" story wasn't as lovely as the "it just happened" story.




While I didn't have any blood family relatives over, I had the next best thing with some of the favourites joining in the pot luck meal. Brunch as a pot luck is likely the best thing ever. You can bring anything and it'll fit. Eggs and jube jubes? why not? Sausages and pie? sure! go ahead! Crumpets and fruit and hashbrowns and cheese balanced the meal out just perfectly.








Much laughter happened at the table, and conversation ranged from festival frustration and celebration, to faith, babies, jobs and literature.

"I brought you a book, you said you needed ideas for things to read"... Bob hands me a ragged coverless binding of pages. Dog eared doesn't even cover it. "It's ok if that one gets beat up a little, I've got another copy at home. But you have to read this one before I lend you the next one."

Once our stomachs were filled, we moved to the living room... instruments were tuned... more laughter... Two ukes, guitar, mando, and an autoharp... a request- Rolling Stone, and then "Fat Bottomed Girls"... A rockabilly Sunday.