Letter

Letter 30 {Beach Bums}

August 14, 2017 by Rachel

Dear Candace,

I’m writing to you on the 16th floor balcony of our lovely condo overlooking the Gulf of Mexico. It’s the very best of views, and perfect for dolphin spotting. The beach sand below is not unlike powdered sugar; the constant breeze invigorating. Cliche, but…it feels like I’m in a dream! The whole family is loving this experience. Our first day here was spent almost entirely in the ocean, riding waves and hunting for shells. I finished a book. We drank gallons of liquid. The paint is coming off my toenails. I have the oddest tan lines on the entire beach (positive about this).

Hmm, do I have to go back? We can home-school right here! 😉

Short but sweet, because the waves beckon and I must go.

Also I must NOT get a sunburn.

Seashells and squid tails,

Rachel

Letter 29 {Snippets, BLT’s}

Letter 31 {A Return}

Letter 29 {Snippets, BLT’s}

August 5, 2017 by Rachel

Dear Candace,

It feels suspiciously like fall outside with the sky an electric blue and the temps dropping to a lovely, cool 60 degrees. It’s the fifth of August. I will only accept such weather behavior as a reprieve from the heat and not as the early onset of fall. I love fall, but in its place; it must bow to summer. It’s summer’s apology for being over. I can’t think about this right now. I need summer with all my heart.

My head is full of books and lessons and lists as we prepare for a new educational year with the kids. Classes signed up for, new math books started, it’s all underway and I am being reluctantly swept along!

I am trying to think about what happened this past week…how do summer days escape so quickly?? Our HVAC unit was replaced, so there was a lot of in-and-out related to that. We hosted a total of four nieces and nephews one day while their mama went to the doctor, I accused the deer of razing down some plants when really it was Tom trimming things up, we went to all the lessons and all the things, another sister-in-law and her girls visited, Caleb’s snake (Mango) returned home after a summer spent at a childrens’ camp, the garden started churning out tomatoes and now my counters are lined with them (BLT’s 4EVAH*), I started reading Seabiscuit, and about 40 other things.

Remember when I started the book Simply Tuesday, something life half a year ago? I’m almost finished reading it. I’ve been savoring it-a few lines here and there during my morning reading over the last several months.

Here is what I read this morning, and it’s sticking to me like a burr:

I sat on a bench with a book and a journal at a local park, but I did more staring than reading. I watched the moms and babies stroll by, the workers with their good intentions toward the public bathrooms, the guy on his bike who roe without a helmet. I read a little about David, how he was both a man after God’s heart and a killer. I thought about how none of us are just one thing, but many shades of light and dark and shadows of gray, proof that we need Jesus.

-Emily P. Freeman

Love,

Rachel

*Facebook post about this: Here is the thing. It’s tomato season and you need plenty of home-grown tomatoes (I can help you with that), thick-sliced bacon (hard for me to share but I will make an effort), crisp lettuce (not weak, watery iceberg; the real green stuff), and mayo (you know you want the chipotle or sriracha kind). Sourdough bread is delightful, too, but if you’re avoiding bread then just wrap everything else together and throw in some sliced jalapeños for good measure. Breakfast, lunch, dinner-boom. Menu planning is over.

Letter 28

Letter 30

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Letter 28 {Ice-cream Tribulations}

July 29, 2017 by Rachel

Dear Candace,

You know how family vacation begins. Finally, the van is loaded. Finally, everyone has gone potty (some of them twice) and is buckled in. You instruct everyone to absolutely not tug on or remove anything in the carefully arranged stacks of suitcases and paraphernalia lest it trigger a catastrophic un-packing event in which the van implodes internally.

You are on the road. Mercy, husband has thoughtfully filled up with gas so the pumps can be avoided.

Of course there is that one stop at Walgreen’s for miscellany. {Why are corn chips so expensive?}

Heading out of the city, you impulsively think it would be such fun to get everyone an ice-cream treat to start the vacation off right. Whispering conspiratorially with your husband, the two of you make a plan. {Or, more accurately, since he’s driving you show him an image of an ice-cream cone on your phone and pantomime the rest so the kids don’t hear.}

Soon you stop at a McDonald’s on a busy exit. Husband has to pee since he ate a lot of watermelon earlier (when did he have time to do that? You’ve only managed to eat ONE HARD-BOILED EGG because, packing). Once inside, the waitress apologetically explains the soft serve machine is dead. No ice-cream to be had there. Back in the van, then off again to the nearest fast food joint. Jack-in-the-box is almost empty! Only two cars in the drive-through, so you get in line.

And wait.

Wait, wait, wait.

An old lady hair starts to grow on your chin.

Your husband looks at you as if to say, “Why are we doing this, again?” You back out of the the line with the other vehicles still sitting in exactly the same place. The person holding everyone up must be ordering 50 menu items in varying combinations.

Forward on the highway you go, and this time you must find ice-cream because of course now the children know. The children are counting on it. The children mustn’t be disappointed. This is vacation, after all!

Ten miles down the highway, another McDonald’s sign is spotted. Ah, this will be easy. It’s not as crowded on this exit. This way to the golden arches! Yay! We’re gonna have an ice-cream cone!

Wait-where is the restaurant? Three more miles north of the interstate? Oh.

Naturally, since it’s the only restaurant for perhaps miles in this desolate land, a crowd has gathered. The drive-through looks a bit busy, and feeling raw from your recent experience, you decided to skip it and “just run inside real quick.” The line stretches from the door to the cashier but you are not. leaving. without. ice-cream. You watch, mesmerized, as the young woman taking orders casually flicks her waist-long, thick, black braids here, there, and probably all over your ice-cream. She moves slowly and gracefully. So slowly. You know you’re getting to your destination an hour late at this point. There’s no use in fighting anymore.

When it’s your turn to order, you rattle off your requests like a pro ice-cream juggler, payment poised in hand. Just hurry, black-haired beauty, so we can get back on the road before the afternoon ends. You think this longingly, wishing you’d never suggested a deviation from the straight and narrow.

She leans into the ice-cream while she prepares it. Strands of hair wilding, ever so close. You wonder when food establishments stopped utilizing those wonderful hairnets. She can’t find things she needs-this and that is in the back and apparently she’s the only one to fetch it. Leisurely she puts everything together, as if fifty eyeballs weren’t staring at her. People in line shift behind you, clearing their throats.

When you’ve at long last returned to the van with your treats, you feel an Olympic thrill. You’ve made it to the finish line! It’s vacation! There’s ice-cream! Blessedly sought-after ice-cream. It’s already melting in this heat.

Are we there yet?

Next road trip, we are quite probably skipping the ice-cream! 😉

~Rachel

Letter 27

Letter 29

Letter 26 {Blackberries + Nostalgia}

July 8, 2017 by Rachel

Dear Candace,

July is in full-swing and with it some familiar heat and humidity, but it’s still such a beautiful summer!

Blackberries. With July comes memories of blackberry picking as a child and all the scrumptious treats first my mom, and then my sister and myself, would prepare; namely: jam, cobblers, and best of all PIE. Blackberry pie is my jam. The butter to my bread. It’s only contender is peach pie with warm cinnamon sauce. But in July, there can be no other pie except the humble yet remarkable blackberry.

In the early nineties, before cell-phones and helicopter parenting, Mom would drop Mara and I off at a nearby conservation area. We were given a wagon, buckets, water, and instructions to be at the rendezvous point at a specific time. Then we were left alone, trudging through the wilderness, to a familiar patch of wild, thorn-encased blackberries sharing space with poison ivy.

It’s remarkable we didn’t meet our demise in those lonely woods, by wild animal or serial killer hiker. One hot July afternoon, Mara began to feel the twinges of heat exhaustion so I laid her out in the shade and kept right on picking. There are sacrifices to be made for blackberry pie, you know. I would often get poison ivy on my face from those outings, turning into an oozing, puffy spectacle known as Cauliflower Girl. The boys were mad about me in those days.*

We’ve been traveling deep in the Ozarks for Hosanna’s horsemanship lessons, to a little farm nestled by a creek and woods. It’s a lovely drive through rich green countryside, and I’m never exactly sure what the speed limit is, though farm trucks and motorcyclists pass me regularly on corkscrew roads. We drive by old white farmhouses, garden patches, fields of corn, and homemade signs that say things like WE HAVE WORMS.

During our recent visit to the horse farm, the owners graciously led us to their blackberry patch to pick the biggest, sweetest, juiciest berries I’ve ever seen! True story. Those blackberries were the epitome of everything a blackberry should be. Three times larger than my thumb, one berry filled your mouth with its juicy goodness. While Hosanna was working with the horses, Drew and I stained our fingers and mouths roaming through the bushes. In short order we picked enough berries for a pie, which became my one fixation. No matter how tired I was, or how many dishes and chores needed to be done, we must! have! pie! Back at home that evening, I quickly put together a homemade crust** and filled it high with the glossy berries. Pie for dessert, pie for breakfast the next morning; that’s how July is done! Until peaches are in season, I’m quite content in my current relationship with Missouri’s obsidian jewels.

Thinking now of blackberry wine,

~Rachel

*There were no boys. Mad or otherwise.

**I must be out of practice! It was not the best crust, being a bit chewy and rather a poor representation of the large amount of pies I’ve made in my lifetime. Such things keep me humble.

Letter 25

Letter 27

Letter 25 {Freaky Friday Arm}

July 2, 2017 by Rachel

Dear Candace,

I’ve been sleeping so much better lately so naturally it was time for a bout of insomnia.

The other night at 2am I woke abruptly, feeling odd. I quickly realized I couldn’t move my right arm! It was asleep, with that funny deadened sensation. This was not a usual occurrence. I moved positions, trying to stimulate my arm. It would not be stimulated. I sat up. My arm began to feel tingly, but still it would not go back to being my arm. I got out of bed and stood up, fully awake yet wondering if I was dreaming that my arm wouldn’t work. I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and left for the bathroom. There, I googled “why is my right arm dead” and received terrifying answers about my heart. I did little pumping motions and tried squeezing my hand into a fist, well aware that these were not my preferred hours for exercising. Eventually, the feeling returned but not before I was fully freaked out. Upon my return to bed, I had to be careful about how I placed my arm so as not to let it fall asleep again.

And then I lay there for one hour forty-five minutes.

Finally realizing that my reassurances every 10 minutes of “I’ll be falling asleep any minute now” weren’t working, I turned on the phone light and grabbed my book off the nightstand. {That’s how I finished Hatching Twitter so quickly.}

Other things I did to pass the time: go potty and while walking through the dark kitchen, think about how horrible it would be to see a silent figure standing in the corner. Walk faster to the bathroom with the echoes of true crime podcasts filling my sleep-deprived mind.

Eventually, I was afraid all my tossing and turning in bed would bother Tom, so I finished the night {er, morning} in the living room. I felt mad at Jack and sad for Ev (you’ll have to read the book).

After 6am I crawled back in bed, mercifully sleepy and hopeful I could get in a couple hours of rest before taking Drew to his morning swim lessons. That 9am alarm was not easy to wake up to! But I rallied and rushed out the door as one does when life must go on.

In other news, the deer ate the new growth off my new hosta plants and now I hate them. Not the plants, the deer. It’s war.

Still sleepy,

Rachel

Letter 24

Letter 26

Letter 24 {Scotch Eggs & Life Contemplation}

June 25, 2017 by Rachel

Dear Candace,

The weekend is lazy, breezy and bright. June’s last parting gift, a reprieve from summer heat. I’m loving this Missouri spring and summer! One never can tell with Missouri.

Last weekend’s camping adventure was a delight. Specifically, camping in CABINS and not in tents or hammocks IN THE RAIN. I could get used to that kind of camping! Your breakfast of Scotch eggs was so delicious. The perfect marriage of breakfast food staples: eggs and sausage. I want them in my life more. Crispy spheres of perfection.

As I reflect on the past week, two things stand out. The importance of relationships, and the brevity of life. We hosted a few visits from family and friends at our home here in STL, and mis-mashed between those was a car accident.

The boys were driving with one of the aunts to a nearby park when their car was rear-ended. Tom and I were able to quickly arrive at the scene, even before police did, and found everyone shaken but unhurt. Drew was in the backseat. I have to stop myself from letting my mind consider all the “what ifs”…our time isn’t in our hands, and I can’t live in fear. The “what ifs” are in God’s hands. We know this, but when something like a car accident happens or cancer is diagnosed our focus becomes more narrow, more exact. Suddenly we see everything which had formerly been overlooked or not given its proper attention… the feel of warm summer, freckles on a child’s nose, being present in a moment, the full gift of life being lived.

The boys have been checked out and both received chiropractic treatments which were helpful. Then I started developing neck pain and tension with a side of massive headaches, because clearly I wanted it to be all about me. I have some thick muscle-relief salve which I applied on Thursday and am still trying to wash out of my hair. It’s very hard for me to be glamorous these days.

I am currently reading: Hatching Twitter: A True Story of Money, Power, Friendship, and Betrayal. I’m a fairly new Twitter user, tweeting in stops and starts, but always mesmerized when I scroll through my feed. That 140 character limit is BRILLIANT! It’s all so very succinct and clever. Foodie bloggers, spiritual leaders, politicians, comedians, authors, that one guy with the big family I met once who likes to #humblebrag, it’s all remarkably out there in the world, in 140 characters. It feels less cluttered than Facebook to me, which is probably why I gravitate to it more. The book delves into the people and stories behind the startup of what is now a world-wide phenomenon.

Yes, I did once tweet a message I meant to text Tom. Since I discovered this months after the fact, I could only be grateful no one really reads my tweets plus it was mundane and appropriate for all audiences. One must be very careful which platform one’s 140 characters land on.

#love

Rachel

Letter 23

Letter 25

Letter 23 {Flowers + Owlfred}

June 16, 2017 by Rachel

Dear Candace,

It’s a beautiful morning and I am pleased to report all the new flowers we’ve planted have so far survived. I didn’t realize until everything was in the ground that the color palette I chose is predominately purple! Purples and blues.

The garden owl statue you gave me for protection has been named Owlfred. He sits on the back deck and regally overlooks the yard.

The house smells rich and wonderful since I just finished baking cinnamon rolls. For our camping adventure this weekend. With you! It’s going to be fun having our families together. Let’s not get sunburns m’kay?

I finished The Foundling. Wow. So interesting! It’s hard to believe the stories in that book are true…yet they are. The truth really can be stranger than fiction.* Its been fun to read more. I’ve missed devouring books! These days I try to keep one with me wherever I go…

See you and the ticks and chiggers soon.

Love,

Rachel

* on my list of fave movies

Letter 22

Letter 24

Letter 21 {Firetrucks & Ancestors}

June 2, 2017 by Rachel

Dear Candace,

I just love sitting outside and being warm. I’d rather be warm or even hot and sticky over freezing cold any old day. If I moved up north I bet my life expectancy would shorten. I don’t think my ancestors were Vikings. I imagine they were pasty European fellows living out their life inside as weavers and then writers or clerks while their hardy neighbors left to explore new continents. It was hard for them, my ancestors who lived in cold regions. As the cold seeped into their bones, the more melancholy became their poetry. By degrees they moved south to gentler climates, as they had the strength. The wives were happier, the babies less spindly. They survived.

I’m sitting out on the front porch now, and was enjoying a warm evening blessed with the usual night sounds, all quiet and still {thinking fondly of my ancestors}, when my reveries were interrupted by the sound of a monstrous fire truck coming down the road. The sirens weren’t on, but the rumble of the truck and flashing lights surely woke up the whole neighborhood (including my children) as it backed carefully down our dead-end street in order to make an easy exit later. I could see no fire nor smell smoke. The fireflies alone illuminated the dark. {see what I did there} Apparently a neighbor had a small backyard fire which was called in. Tom and I could barely talk above the noise of the truck. I looked at it with envy. It probably has more square space than my house. And so well-organized and shiny clean.

I’m jealous of a fire truck.

The truck is gone now, the street back to it’s peaceful repose. I am soon to bed and early to rise. The children and I are leaving at 3:30 am to head to Indy in time for my brother’s graduation party! My St. Louis sisters are coming with, so we can all be bleary eyed and sharing coffee together.

I was going to write you stuff but then I forgot everything when that blasted red truck came down the road.

Caleb is off to camp this weekend, after the graduation, and packing a child for 9 days away without the ability to do laundry is no small feat. Being the procrastinators we are (argh), I made a mad trip to Kohl’s with Caleb and Tom took him to Wal-Mart. He’ll just have to make do. I’m sure he can fashion shorts out of foliage if necessary. He has a bottle to filter water, and there will be plenty of protein bugs. I’m sure he’ll survive one way or the other.

I just hope he listens to me and remembers to put on sunscreen. {Wonders: did we pack sunscreen?}

And all the hipsters say-#weekendvibes

~Rachel

Letter 20

Letter 22

Letter 20 {Turmeric Milk & Horse Sneezes}

May 26, 2017 by Rachel

Dear Candace,

How is this Letter 20? Where have the last 20 weeks gone? June is almost here!*

Most evenings I make creamy, golden turmeric milk for the family about an hour before bedtime. It’s perfect on chilly evenings, but even with the increasing heat and humidity everyone still likes it served up hot! We sip our warm, comforting drink as a way of winding down before lights out. I’ve been trying to work on our evening and bedtime routines, and Pinterest promises me that not only will the health benefits of turmeric give us long life and super-powers, but it will also naturally encourage deep and restful sleep. Bottoms up!

The children and I visited a farm yesterday, where Hosanna had her first natural horsemanship lesson. The horses were beautiful and friendly, running up to us like eager dogs when we first arrived and stood at the gate, watching them. While Hosanna spent time with the horses, the boys roamed a nearby creek. It was so sunny and relaxing; we all enjoyed being outdoors. At one point I was sneezed on by a curious horse companion, who spray-painted my shirt with green splatters.

Afterwards I cleaned up and went out to dinner with my sisters, barely keeping my eyes open while slurping down a huge bowl of ramen. The ramen craze has hit St. Louis and it is a good one-perfectly delicious comfort food. The sisters pointed out that I did, indeed, get a wee bit sunburned. I don’t know how-I was covered in stuff. Meanwhile the teacher of the class looked fresh and brown when we left, even though she’d spent most of the day outdoors with the horses and I, barely two hours there, ended up burned, horse-sneezed and limp-haired. I guess somebody has to be the weak white one.

This weekend my plans are to rest, organize things, and make good food. And read-always read.

Have a good one!

Love,

Rachel

*In case you didn’t realize.

Letter 19

Letter 21

Letter 19 {Storms + Being Alone}

May 19, 2017 by Rachel

Dear Candace,

If it’s not flood water, it’s high winds.

Last night I woke with a jolt at 3:00 a.m. “Oh no!” I thought. “Please not another 3 hours of insomnia.”

My unwanted guest, insomnia, has been showing up on occasion, despite the UNwelcome mat. I wasn’t plagued with insomnia, though. I soon realized I was dealing with a headache from the changes in barometric pressure. Within the hour, the storm hit and and I could hear the incredible whooshing of the wind. I grabbed my phone to check the weather radar. A bad thunderstorm, but no tornado warnings I could see. I told myself that if I heard the sirens go off, I would move downstairs to the basement. Otherwise, there was no way I was leaving my squishy Purple mattress. Plus, being alone in the house, the basement seemed extra-scary and dark.

The idea was that while Tom and the kids were off adventuring at the family farm, I would get some needed rest in a quiet house. I ended up laying awake in the early morning hours listening to the rain hit the window like gravel two feet from my bed. Eventually I did go back to sleep, and woke to a white yard covered in my neighbor’s catalpa blossoms! The storm downed an electric wire (draped across the street in front of my house, of course), with trees and heavy branches littering yards and streets. I’m thankful I never lost power!

I just finished The ZooKeeper’s Wife, and now I’m reading All the Light We Cannot See. Both take place during WWII. The first is the true story of a Polish couple living in Warsaw and how the war affected them and the zoo they managed. The second is historical fiction and intertwines the lives of a Parisian girl and a young German soldier-highly recommended by all my friends who’ve read it! I have very well-read friends; they advise me on what to read next (and boy is my list long).

Today I finished nearly all the laundry and put four lemonade pies in the freezer, so I feel very pleased even though my to-do list is still quite long. Lemonade pies and fresh blueberries signal all things summer-can’t wait to share them with friends and family this weekend. Come have a slice!

I just noticed something. The house creaks an awful lot when you’re the only one in it.

Hoping I survive another night alone in Kansas,

Dorothy

Letter 18

Letter 20