About half hour before our company was due to arrive I told them that art shows are very clean and proper and asked them to clean up their mess so no one would ever be able to tell that the table was their studio -- and they did. I wish I had taken some photos of them painting, but I did sneak out to take a few pictures of their displayed and priced art.
My dad was so darling - he bought most every painting.
Lucky kids. Lucky Grandpa.
I'm sitting in my bed with the laptop typing this and my whole soul is just aching with...I don't know what to call it but...nostalgia? Which isn't really the right word because I'm right in the middle of this section of my life, in the trenches is how it feels some days. But I love it so dearly that sometimes it actually hurts.
Nearly every week at church a dear older brother in our ward comes up to us and tells us how darling our children are. He strokes the baby's cheeks and pats Lily's head and tears squeeze out between the wrinkles around his eyes and drop down his cheeks -- every single week. I love it so much. And he tells us how much he misses the phase of life that we're in. And he tells us to really soak it up.
And I just want to tell him, "if I soak anymore I'll drown, Brother Walker!"