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Tag: resilience

I beg you: Art. Harder.

On Monday I had to put on my big girl pants, by which I mean quite literally the black stretchy pants with the wide and forgiving elastic waistband. I have done little but eat and drink with reckless abandon since November 10. On November 9 I was too depressed to eat. In the initial days … Continue reading I beg you: Art. Harder. →

Jennifer Balink Among friends, In my spare time, The view from here 16 Comments January 8, 2017January 12, 2017 4 Minutes

Letters from camp.

Letter from camp, 2012From the moment we master basic locomotive skills, we humans begin to pursue our independence and separate from our parents. It is as natural and ordinary and miraculous a process as any other in the animal kingdom - which is not to say that it is easy, for either child or parent. … Continue reading Letters from camp. →

Jennifer Balink Among friends, Family matters, Motherhood mayhem, Serious stuff, Work-Life 5 Comments July 31, 2016March 8, 2022 8 Minutes

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That’s a wrap. ❤️

I call this dress “The Sound of Music.” If you knew my mother, then you probably don’t need another word of backstory to understand the reference. But for everyone else, the story, as I know it (and who’s to say otherwise, because all the characters are now in the Great Beyond) is this: these curtains belonged to my great-grandmother on my father’s side. Nana had them in the house on Elzey, the one that was big enough to hold all of the then-grown Larkey children and their spouses and children for a little while during the Great Depression. Nana gave the curtains to her daughter who then gave them to my mother when a Christmas Eve fire in our attic left us displaced and my mother and sister (I was in college) moved into a short term rental house two doors down from my great aunt, who helped my mother furnish the rental. My mother gave the curtains to me when I bought my first house. I packed them into a zippered storage bag when I moved to Omaha and then toted them along for all the years that followed, right up until this winter when I was frantically searching for the box of French lace that I saved, from my mother’s sewing things, to make my daughter’s graduation dress. I still haven’t found that lace. The curtains, then, were at first a substitute for the original plan. They were plan B. My mother, the hand-sewing, piano teaching, enterprising writer, always had a plan B (and C, and D, and so on). My hand stitching isn’t as delicate as hers, but I think she’d approve. Who’s to say otherwise?

“Make it pretty on the inside,” that’s what my mama always said.

Tipsy Tumbler just arrived, so it’s a party now! Corner of Peabody and Belvedere (fenced lot - park on Belvedere). We’re here til 4!

Can’t let today end without a little Yoda and Chewbacca. #maythe4thbewithyou

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That’s a wrap. ❤️

I call this dress “The Sound of Music.” If you knew my mother, then you probably don’t need another word of backstory to understand the reference. But for everyone else, the story, as I know it (and who’s to say otherwise, because all the characters are now in the Great Beyond) is this: these curtains belonged to my great-grandmother on my father’s side. Nana had them in the house on Elzey, the one that was big enough to hold all of the then-grown Larkey children and their spouses and children for a little while during the Great Depression. Nana gave the curtains to her daughter who then gave them to my mother when a Christmas Eve fire in our attic left us displaced and my mother and sister (I was in college) moved into a short term rental house two doors down from my great aunt, who helped my mother furnish the rental. My mother gave the curtains to me when I bought my first house. I packed them into a zippered storage bag when I moved to Omaha and then toted them along for all the years that followed, right up until this winter when I was frantically searching for the box of French lace that I saved, from my mother’s sewing things, to make my daughter’s graduation dress. I still haven’t found that lace. The curtains, then, were at first a substitute for the original plan. They were plan B. My mother, the hand-sewing, piano teaching, enterprising writer, always had a plan B (and C, and D, and so on). My hand stitching isn’t as delicate as hers, but I think she’d approve. Who’s to say otherwise?

“Make it pretty on the inside,” that’s what my mama always said.

Tipsy Tumbler just arrived, so it’s a party now! Corner of Peabody and Belvedere (fenced lot - park on Belvedere). We’re here til 4!

Can’t let today end without a little Yoda and Chewbacca. #maythe4thbewithyou

Looking for something?

Search for:

Subscribe to Blog via Email

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 7,263 other followers

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Tags

#nostalgia #WPLongform 20 years in 20 posts aging art blogging books change children Christmas cooking creative brief creativity Daily Post daily writing december sanity dinner dogs DPchallenge eating entertaining faith families family family dinner family meals farmer's market Fiction food friends friendship garden growing up Hipstamatic holiday stress home kitchen life love marriage memoir Memphis mental wellness menu planning menus month in review monthly digest motherhood mothers mothers and daughters NaNoWriMo National Novel Writing Month neighbors new year parenting photography postaday post a day postaweek raising children reading reading recommendations recipes relationships self-care summer Thanksgiving time travel vacation weekly menu women writing year in review young adult fiction

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