Tuesday, January 28, 2014

Moving On.

Blue Jeans & Coffee Beans has a *NEW* home!  Ideally, you should automatically be redirected to the new site.  If something should go awry, you can visit me at www.bluejeansandcoffeebeans.com or click on the following link:

The New and Improved Blue Jeans & Coffee Beans

If you have this site bookmarked, you may want to update it.  Also, if you are a current email subscriber and want to continue to receive blog posts via email, you will need to resubscribe on the Home page of the new website.  

See you on the other side!

Love & Coffee

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

A Morning Moment.

Nothing like watching a hazy, autumn sunrise from the window, swallowed up in a well-loved sweater with a steamy coffee settled between my fingers.  

I revel in the quiet.  But in just moments, this house will spring to life, bursting at the seams with much too much to do in one day.  

(Does anyone else ever look at their calendar and just want to cry?  And, by the way, where did October go?.)

But for now, for just a moment longer, it's quiet.  And my coffee is still warm.  And the house is still sleeping.  And I will think on this...

 "I can do all this through him who gives me strength."  Phillipians 4.13 (NIV)

Love & Coffee.

Continue the coffee love by joining my facebook page:

Monday, September 16, 2013

The Old-Fashioned Way.

I sauntered into the kitchen, intent on whipping up a batch of chocolate chip cookies.  I sneaked.  I was discrete.  But I got caught.  

"Mommy!  I want to help in the kitchen," Lovey said.  She is my helper.  She is always there.  If I am in the kitchen, she is glued to me.  And most days, I don't mind.  I welcome the company and the playful banter of my sweet Lovey.  But today, I just wanted... to be.  To think, uninterrupted.  To ponder, uninhibited.  

I tried to dissuade her.  

"I'm going to be very boring in here.  I am going to do dishes and not even turn on the radio."  (Which was mostly the truth, because I still had a sink chock full of lunch dishes and random containers from my morning fridge-cleaning session.) 

She took the bait and decided just this once to go watch Max & Ruby.   

But then...

Ladybug appeared in the kitchen doorway.  "I want to do dishes."  

Perhaps I had heard wrongly.  "I'm sorry, WHAT?"

"I want to do dishes."

I have this weird control-freak thing, especially when it comes to my kitchen, however, I am trying really, really hard to just let go and let my girlies do more things. Even if they are done the wrong way at first.  Freedom to fail, right?

"Ummmm... okay.  Well, how about you rinse these off and arrange them in the dishwasher like so."  This was also really hard for me, because I am notoriously particular about how things are arranged in the dishwasher.  

"No, Mom.  I want to do it the old-fashioned way.  You know, I just want to scrub them in the sink."

"Wouldn't you rather help me bake cookies?" I urged.  (So much for the just being thing.)

"Mom, don't you just get a great feeling when you do things the old-fashioned way?  Like you baking cookies from scratch?  Or when you make laundry soap?  It's like you really worked on it and made it special and it feels good, doesn't it?  I just want to do that to the dishes."

*crickets chirping*  (And seriously, there is a random cricket chirping in the far corner of the office as I write.)

"Okaaaayyy.  Well, here is the footstool.  And the rag.  And a little soap.  Have at it, Sweet Ladybug."  

Suddenly, she had made perfect sense to me.  Because I do get that.  I still do all kinds of crazy things like write in a journal, keep a datebook, wear a watch, patch my jeans, and write hand-written thank you notes.  There is something inherently sacred in performing a simple task "the old-fashioned way" that seems to connect me to my childhood, my mother, my late grandmothers.  

And here I sit, enjoying the morning "the old-fashioned way."  Sunrise and a steamy cup of joe.  

Love & Coffee.

Continue the coffee love by joining my facebook page:

Tuesday, September 3, 2013

Still here.

Really, I am.  

We started school.  

(And I cried only a little.)

I have been nursing a concussion.  

(Please, don't ask.  It's terribly embarrassing.  And no one even caught it on video so I could win some cash on AFV.  Boo.)

And we said goodbye to summer as we returned from a Labor Day road trip.   

(Which will NOT be happening again anytime soon.  If Google Maps says it will take 5 hours, it will inevitably take us EIGHT.)  

But fall is approaching.  And lovely things are happening outside.  And sweet, delicious coffee is brewing along with wonderful things in my head that I need to write about.

So many good things are coming...

Love & Coffee.

Continue the coffee love by joining my facebook page:

Monday, August 5, 2013

Is this real life?

Yes.  Yes, it is.  

This.  Is.  My.  Life.

It was a lovely evening, just 5 short nights ago.  Eleven 'o clock was fast approaching.  The evening news faded and my eyes were weighted with the heaviness that comes from a much-lived day.  That's when I heard it.  The pitter-pat on the stairs.  (I thought they were all long fast asleep.)  

It was Lovey.  Her eyes welling with tears.  "There's a bee in my nose!"  What???  "There's a bee in my nose and it really hurts!"  Again... what???  I assumed she meant a wasp, because just the day prior, I had bested a nasty one by means of a corn-husk broom and a Hello Kitty flip-flop.  But still... could it really have stung her in the nose?  

The Man was there.  He asked her one more time.  "What is the meaning of this?"  

"There.  Is.  A.  BEAD.  In.  My.  Nose.  And.  It.  HURTS!!!  Waaaaaahhhhh!!!"  Tears were flowing freely by this point.  Good grief.  *sigh*  I think I would have much preferred the bee/wasp scenario.  I have heard of kids doing such things and honestly, considering the nature of my sweet Lovey, I should count my blessings that we haven't dealt with this sooner.  Keeping my full-on panic at bay, I told The Man we have to take her in.  There was no other way.  

The Man was not happy.  The Man glared.  The Man disappeared.  The Man reappeared.  With a flash light.  Lovey howled as he inspected the damage.  "It's past the sellion," The Man declared.  (Yes. I had to spell check that word.  Several times.  And bonus points to the The Man for using it properly in a sentence.)

Okay... pretty sure I didn't know what a sellion was, but I still voted for the ER.  

"I am not driving into town at 11:00 pm.  There IS another way," declared The Man.  Spoken like a man who had labored all the live-long day and was dying to go play a video game.  All the while, Lovey is crying her ornery little heart out.  

The Man was not happy.  The Man scowled.  The Man disappeared (longer this time.)  The Man reappeared.  But not empty-handed.  Oh no.  He wielded a most frightening contraption beginning with a disassembled balloon pump and ending with my vacuum cleaner. 

Full-on panic was no longer at bay.  I couldn't watch.  

"You're going to suck her brains out!!!" I cried.   

"I promise not to suck her brains out," he mumbled.  

I retreated to the other room for the "procedure."  The deafening sounds hearkened me back to a time when I was barely 16 and my hard contact lens was running amok on my eyeball.  The darn thing was suctioned to my eye with a death grip and I was at a loss.  My dad emerged with vacuum specialty of his own, only his version involved panty hose and a rubber band.  "Please don't suck my eye ball out!" I cried.  "I won't suck your eyeball out," he mumbled.  But I digress...

Moments later, the gangly pair emerged.  Brains intact.  Bead in hand.  

The Man played his game.  Lovey and I cuddled on the couch.  And all was right with the world.

I'm not sure there's a moral to this story other than the fact that I have men in my life who do strange and sometimes helpful things with a vacuum.  

Thank God for coffee.

The offender.

 Love & Coffee.

Continue the coffee love by joining my facebook page:


Tuesday, July 16, 2013

How Does Your Garden Grow?

Not very well, I'm afraid.  Not very well at all.  

You could call this an excuse, but birthing a baby just before planting season didn't help matters much.  I have a bucket full of seed packets that I fully intended to get in the ground.  It's mid-July, and the bucket is still sitting in the utility room.  I did manage to put in some lively red begonias in one of the large planters near the entryway.  My newly transplanted hastas are barely surviving... I think they may just need water.  I'm so bad at this!  I could have taken pictures, but honestly I am embarrassed.  I will spare you the agony.

(But if you are desperate to see some of my past "handiwork" you can click here:  Greenthumbery.)

Ladybug says we have nothing.  The chickens are dead.  Our dog is dead.  And the tomatoes are on their way out.  (I am really bad at remembering to water things.)   

Homesteading is hard.  And there have been some wonderful life lessons learned here in recent months.  I hope my little lovies will remember the time we didn't give up and eventually made it work. 

On the lighter side, we have loads of mulberries this year... more than we could ever dream to pick ourselves.  They are beautifully sweet and devilishly messy.  I made the mistake of taking the girls out picking, leaving Lovey in a white shirt.  (I never cared for that shirt much anyway...)  I think they ate at least twice as many as made it into the bucket.  Our freezer is nearly brimming with berries and we have only scratched the surface.  I have dreams of pies, cobblers, and sauces. 

Caught red-handed.

Briefly distracted to catch butterflies.

Big helper.

Our hearts are still healing.  We really miss Holly.  But they are so many great things ahead.  I am so thankful we get to call this place home.

Love & Coffee.

Continue the coffee love by joining my facebook page:

Saturday, July 6, 2013

And then she was gone.

I don't want to write this.  I don't want to think about this.  I.  Just.  Don't.

Holly von H. is gone.  It hurts so much to type those words. 
Yesterday was easily one of the most horribly terrible days of our lives.  The day started out so well.  We were coming off a lazy 4th of July, still high on sparklers and the smell of gunpowder.

It happened in mere seconds.  Seconds, I tell you.  And life was suddenly different.  

She always had a fascination with wheels, be it a stroller, a wheel barrow or... a passing car.  *sigh*

It happened in front of the house, right by the mailbox.  I cannot begin to tell you the mass hysteria that ensued.  The lady driver was visibly upset, as well as her young son who accompanied her.  The Man was running to her and sobbing.  I ran inside to shelter my girls, but it was too late.  Cupcake was napping, while the other girls held each other tightly, hysterically looking on through the bay window.  

The Man cradled her in the road as she passed.  I held her lifeless body soon after, bathing her in tears, and telling her how sorry I was.  There are so many disturbing images from yesterday that I wish could un-see.  

This.  Hurts.  

The woman turned out to be a neighbor from down the road whom we hadn't before met.  Her husband came soon after to offer his help in burying her.  The woman came again even later to bring flowers.  I assure you this is not the way we wanted to meet our neighbors, but I am grateful we have good people living close by.  They were so kind. 

One second she was pawing at the front door and the next she was gone.  There is much sadness in this house.  The homestead feels so empty without her.  She was our first family dog.  We waited so long for her.  I find some sort of patriotic irony in the fact that she was born on 9/11 and passed the morning after Independence Day.  

Ladybug whimpered through tears, "You told me I would have her until I was at least 16!"   Lovey said, "But God's still alive.  He's in my heart and my heart is not broken."  Peanut just buried herself in the couch pillows and cried.  

And The Man is a mess.  And so am I.  I loved Holly.  And him even more so.  No one ever told me it would be this hard.  I am not even an animal lover by nature, but I love the life that God created.  And Holly was special.  And she was ours.  And I miss her.  And even coffee can't fix that.

"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted
    and saves those who are crushed in spirit."

Psalm 34.18 (NIV) 

Rest in peace, Sweet Holly.


To read more about our sweet Holly von H.:  A Boy and His Dog.

Love & Coffee.

Continue the coffee love by joining my facebook page:

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...

Blog has moved, searching new blog...