Hosting is Our Jam

While we don't feel like the most social individuals in the world, Ross and I have discovered that we enjoy opening our home to people.  Is extroverted introverts a thing? In recent days, we have come to realize how important in-person relationships are. We (humans) were created for relationship and fellowship.

We feel extrememly blessed to live where we do in the home that we have. We want to share.

We want people to feel welcome here and comfortable to drop in. You may have to ignore the six or seven pairs of dirty socks on the floor, look past the dirty handprints on the wall, and be okay with a little stickiness on the counters, but you are welcome here.

We might have different opinions, come from different backgrounds, bring different baggage, but we hope we can still be friends.

Please remember there are kids in the room. Expect them to be loud...and dirty but also expect them to be respectful and polite. They talk a lot.

We like to fill people's bellies. If we're feeling fancy, we'll use the china. If we are feeling relaxed, we'll break out the paper plates. Either way, bring an appetite. If I burn dinner, we'll order pizza.

We like a house full of people.  If it gets crowded, we can spread out on the patio. This is our open invitation. You're welcome here.

Comments

Little Bit Dicey

This might be a little controversial. I try to steer clear of such topics in this space, but it needs to be said. Take it as you will, but know that it comes from a place of love, concern, and respect. Here it is: there is a right way to cut an onion. Now, I'm not saying this to try and get anyone's dander up. I'm just saying it's a subject that needs to be addressed in kitchens across America. There may be more than one right way to skin a cat (I can't say I've tested that), but the same does not hold true for onions. Please, you can teach an old dog new tricks - learn how to properly cut an onion. It will save you time, frustration, onion tears, and possibly a finger. Now, since I'm still sitting here on blogspot like it's 2003, I'm not going to post any how-to videos, but I'll do the next best thing. I'll paste a link right here . Check it out. Practice it. Make it a habit. T...

Advanced Placement

Not to brag or anything, but I think we are raising some very advanced children. At two-years-of-age, our girls have already worked out the art of manipulation and deflection. It's the antithesis of endearing. They went missing the other day - the girls did. That's never a good situation. They were in the house, and I knew they were in the house, but I couldn't see or hear them. Silence is the loudest alarm system. Fischer took action and found them both in my bathroom. "MOM!" I met them in the hall. Carter was covered in clumps and blobs of hand cream. "Emi did it," was her unsolicited response. "No," I told her. "I think you did it." That night I got ready for bed and pulled out my one "self-care" splurge - my face cream . It was in my drawer where I always keep it. The lid was screwed on. And it was empty, wiped clean. "EmmmeerrrrrSON!" Guilty. They were both ...

The Tales They Will Tell

Every season has it's enjoyment, but I feel like we really ramp up the "memory making" in the summer months. Maybe it's because we have Ross home and more time for doing things out of the ordinary. We have a more flexible schedule and more freedom to do "fun" things. I enjoy thinking about what the kids will remember from these days. They are still pretty young so it may be just a feeling that stays with them or a vague recollection here and there, but I hope they remember it was a good time of life. A couple of days ago they boys went with Ross and loaded some fresh roadkill in the trunk of our car. That's legal now in our state. They came home thrilled with their find...all three of them. Sawyer told me, "This is the best day ever, right Mom?!" Boy, if I had known that's all it took, we could have saved a lot of money. They got to help skin it. I'm sure a three-year-old with a skinning knife is p...

Not so adventures of the St. Clair clan...

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