I worry. It’s what I do. I’m like – really REALLY good at it. I worry that the mole on Emily’s arm looks different. I worry that Darren is too busy. I worry that Maddie’s eye prescription has changed since we checked a couple weeks ago. I worry that Jack-Jack is going to grow up.
I worry that there are mercury vapors in the air. I worry about world hunger & people dying.
I know, I know. My dad was always the first to smack me upside the head.
I’ve found that one of the ways I can keep the worries out of my head AND an added bonus of keeping them from turning into anxieties, is to have projects. Lots and lots of projects.
Darren can usually tell worries are on high alert when he comes home to a newly decorated bathroom. Poor guy.
I’m pretty lucky that over here in New House Land, I have projects coming out of my whozits. One of the projects I am working on now is the entry from the garage. I don’t like how neglected this area is and I would like to turn this into a welcoming, warm and functioning space.
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One of my most vivid memories is of Cuba, Kansas on a hot summer night jumping around, catching fireflies. Strange that a town less than half a square mile in its entirety, can manage to have such a big and important place in my heart. My Dad’s parents would spend their summers out in Cuba and Dad would bring all us kids out for some family time. I think Grandma liked their winters in California a million times better than she enjoyed summers out in Kansas, but you would never hear her complain. Grandpa was a Cuba man; he loved the slowness of the town. He always wore blue and white striped overalls and had such a strong presence about him, except when Grandma would give him the stink eye. I got my linebacker shoulders from Grandpa and my stink eye skills from Grandma.
Every trip we always ended up doing 3 things. Hunting for lightning bugs, fighting off the chigger bugs and eating kolaches (pronounced ko-LAH-chee). Man, Cuba women sure did know how to make kolaches, I think it’s the strong Czech influence that just oozes the streets of Cuba. Kolaches remind me of a danish, visually. But don’t let their appearance fool you & don’t you dare ever say the D word out loud, those ladies will bury you alive in their stink eyes.
Kolaches are sweet pillows from heaven that just beg to be served with a hot cup of coffee. My favorite is lemon or cream cheese but I hear that the traditional poppy, apricot or blueberry are delish.
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