When You Give a Boy a Home in the Country

He'll want a dog to go with it.

Sunshine in January

We just haven't had much of a winter so far.

My superstitious personality tells me writing that was a bad idea, but it really wasn't a challenge.  I was just stating it like it is.

The clouds have not produced much in the way of snow.  December was fairly cold, but we were wearing t-shirts in November, so I couldn't complain.  And then 2011 started with temperatures soaring in the 50s.  The dusting of snow melted and we had a handful of days to play outside --unbundled.  Our cat Cinder stepped outside for the first time in a month.

From My Aching Thumbs

We have lived in what we affectionately refer to as "the middle of nowhere" for nearly four months now and have not in that time had an Internet connection (except for the iPhone). I expect we will get to the task of connecting ourselves... eventually... but it simply has not been a priority. The truth is, it's been nice. It's been quiet, private, and a chance to contemplate what I'm doing and what I'd really like to be doing. It's also given my mind time and space to run wild with curiosity about the Amish. The truth is also that blog posting with my thumbs on a tiny touch screen is strenuous, even if this Mac product is skilled at autofilling. A couple of months ago, I checked on the old blog from my parents' house and was a little surprised by the poor resolutioned pictures I had publicized. I didn't expect photos from the iPhone to be fabulous, but I didn't think they'd be as awful as they turned out to be. That was the last time I associated with my blog or with you (hello? Anyone there?) until I was reminded of all of this today and felt a pang of something. Guilt? Sadness? Longing? Duty? I'm not sure what, but I obeyed it. As a result, here I am, my thumbs and I, to say: All is as it should be in the Mitchell household. We're still alive and love life.