Here’s our newest farm addition, Jack. I believe she is a Cinnamon. You gotta love the unlikely story of the breed’s origin right here in the Pacific Northwest. Two kids from of Missoula MT bred a Chinchilla doe and a New Zealand buck in 1962. Their father didn’t want to keep any of the crossbred rabbits but they persuaded their father and over the next couple years and a long series of events, the breed was born. You can read more about it here.

We have our own persuading to do.

Do you think it would work if I told Matt I found her?

My sister’s neighbor apparently let his rabbits out in her neighborhood. At least two were hit in the road and this one ended up on a friend’s porch, dehydrated and scared but when the kids approached her she went right to them. That’s when they called me.

Jessie will take it!

I think I’ve turned into my mother. Love ya mom!

The friend who found it, feared her dog would eat this little rabbit for a snack.

So, we’ve inherited another farm friend.

Loud Kiddington had her named before she got here. Jack is gender neutral right?

I’ve made an arrangement with my growing up boy -I can’t believe he is almost five- because he wanted to call this pet his own. If he complains about feeding and watering her, he has to skip his goody snack. Of course I’ll feed the kid but no fruit snacks or other yummy treat. We’ll see how this goes. Do you kids have their own pets?

How much you wanna bet she is pregnant?

Oh well, no going back now.

Do you take in strays?

Share your tips for kids and pets.

This novel reminded me of the Bourne books without the gore and language.

Don Hoesel’s style is full of intrigue and drama.

Jameson Richards is a sociology professor who gets pulled into a government elite  team of researchers /military personnel who believe there is something sinister behind a 2012 phenomenon tied to the Mayan calendar. Unexplained earthquakes, glaciers threatening to break into the ocean and heightened fighting in the far reaches of the world are all believed to be the work of a single mind. Richards’ job is to find out who and help stop him before it’s too late.

The only complaint I have is I want to know more! I felt like I needed a sociology degree to grasp the whole genius of this book but Don Hoesel did a great job allowing the reader to experience the story even without prior background in the military or the main characters’ field of work.

Men would especially like this author. Gritty and fascinating read.

Don Hoesel, bestselling author of Hunter’s Moon and Elisha’s Bones, lives in Spring Hill, Tennessee, with his wife and two children. He has also published short fiction in Relief: A Quarterly Christian Expression. Don holds a bachelor’s degree in mass communication from Taylor University. When not writing novels, he spends his days working in the communications department of a large company.

*If you purchase the book by clicking the photo I am rewarded a small commission from Amazon*

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Little Miss Colonel is sorting pretty socks. Seven little pairs with hearts, stars and kitties. She is mixing, rearranging and trying them all on. You’d think she won the Olympics the way she parades around.

I can’t stand the monotony and frustration of matching socks but she see’s only possibility where I see rules.

Blogging used to be fun like Colonel and her socks but sometimes I find myself worrying about crazy words like platform and marketing.

Here are some blogging “rules” I’ve heard:

1.Pick a topic and stick to it.

Uh oh! I have three main topics and tons of others; Family, Writing, Christian Perspective

2. No one wants to hear about or see your kids.

Shoot! My kids color everything I do.

3. People want a product.

I blogged for years sharing recipes. The problem was my recipes stunk!

4.People won’t read more than 200-300 word posts.

This one is 360 words

When I try to follow the rules my writing is all whites and no matches. I’ve got a whole sack of tall socks and short, ribbed and plain but none with a match.

I think it’s better to forget the rules and ask:

• Why do I blog?
• What’s unique about me that I can share?
• How can I be generous with readers?

I’ve come to realize it’s about generosity and community. I’d rather you share your best posts in my comments and have two way conversations than write every day to a silent audience.

If it were only as easy as picking a pair of socks I’d do like Little Miss Colonel and slip on a green one with blue stars and a polka dot one with a kitten toe and call it good. She is innocent and true. Such a refreshing take on life.

When left with rigid old me trying to find exact matches in the piles of whites, it seems pretty boring. But when I think about you and sharing my best ideas and my trials, I get excited again and those crazy mismatched socks don’t seem too bad.

How do you feel about folding socks?

What’s your favorite part of blogging or reading blogs?

Linking to Serenity Now for weekend reading fun!

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Delight dips and moves and dances with creation.

It’s the crunch of new snow underfoot and the sizzle as the wood stove consumes fresh fuel, warming your frigid face.

It shows up in a smile or on the wind. Like the melody of the bag pipes at the park when I was a kid.

When you catch a glimpse of a slow falling star and it takes your breath away. That’s delight.

The sound of a kitten’s purr or a child’s giggle. Soft fur of a rabbit, the wet nose of a friendly pooch.

Delight smiles, dances, stays up late and rolls on the floor laughing.

It’s a husband waiting for his wife to get home so he can celebrate her.

It drips down your fingers like a push pop melting on a hot day and the sun peeking out from behind a Maple, to warm you.

God Delights in us!

The steps of a man are established by the LORD, And He delights in his way. Ps. 37:23

Even though my time is up, can I also just say that delight is dressing yourself and running free in mountain air.

Friday’s are for Five Minute Fun!

Link up HERE at The Gypsy Mama

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Sometimes I need a little distraction. I get busy and before I realize it, I’m forgetting to see, relying not on my senses but on my emotions to get through the day. I don’t like it. I miss a lot that way. My emotions are fickle and demanding.

Would you like to join me in a writing exercise to help us see better, think better and see through the innocent eyes of a child.

Write for no more than five minutes on the topic, If I were young.

If I were young…

If I were young in the mountains, I’d smell the sun in the crips spring air and I’d want to fly with the bluebirds.

If I were young in the mountains I’d watch a moose break the ice and drink from the creek and I’d sigh in the cool shadows.

If I were young in the mountains, the wind would call me to adventures tracking bobcat and wild rabbits.

The rocks would be my lounge chair, Pines and Tamarack would wave welcoming me home in the mountains.

If you do the exercise, include a link below and/or tag me in a Facebook note. I’d love to see what you wrote.

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In honor of the day of love I thought I’d tell you a funny story.

It had been days, probably weeks since my husband and I had enjoyed even a few minutes together and that Saturday didn’t look promising. From one event to the next, I wouldn’t be home for over twelve hours. The only thing that made it a good day for me was that I’d be leaving the baby for the first time since he was born.

I got home earlier than expected but exhausted. My husband met me at the car in the driveway, opened the door for me and escorted me through our private bedroom door into a candlelit room. I breathed in the scent of old fashion roses, taking in the romance of it all with cheerful surprise. He’d carefully selected an outfit he knew I’d love as much as he would. A mix of practical comfort and sexy femininity.

The house was so quiet and he told me he’d bathed the kids and already had them in bed.

I giggled a little when he pulled back the sheets and I found that he had warmed them in the clothes dryer until I’d pulled up our road. He handed me a chocolate he’d hand wrapped and promised me a back rub.

We were sitting in bed talking, my favorite thing, as he rubbed the tension from my shoulders when my chickens started squawking. I stopped to listen and felt my heart beating faster. It sounded like the coop erupted into activity and screams. The three roosters were making a shrill caw and I could hear the wire shaking and the wood gate rattling.

My husband and I exchanged a wild look and I bolted out of bed heading straight for our door. He chose the mud room door trying to kick the dogs out before him. Neither one would budge. Our big hound dog cowered in the corner while the collie wagged his tail waiting for his master to lead the charge.

My cowboy boots lay waiting by the door and I picked up a broom on the way out into the frigid cold.

Even though my eyes hadn’t adjusted to the dark I could see feathers flying and chickens popping up and down like popcorn. A black form morphed in and out of my sight. I couldn’t tell if I was seeing things or had spotted the intruder so I kept my distance, holding my broom like a bat thinking it was time to get a BB gun.

When my husband came out the back door he was cursing at the dog, pulling a headlamp on and trying to wind another light. We almost ran into each other.

The squawking continued but I heard something scrape along the metal fence then the unmistakable wobble as the tension released.

A lone hen clucked and cried getting quieter and quieter.

The dogs hid behind us staring as the furry intruder escaped to the sound of a flashlight winding and me yelling in my sexy undies.

I got a Red Ryder BB gun for my birthday! You might like a box of chocolates but I sure love my air rifle.

Next time that furry monster come’s back I won’t be yelling at the other end of a broom stick.

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Resurrecting Your Dream Passions
by Gina Conroy

Our dreams can be like a familiar childhood friend.

They’re often something we’ve grown up with and treasured in our hearts since we were little, but for one reason or another we’ve drifted away from.

We all go through seasons where our dreams need to be grounded so we can focus on other things in our lives, but there is a time to resurrect our dreams.

I struggled for years with figuring out when the time was right for me to pursue writing full time. After ten years of focusing on family, I thought it was time to resurrect my dreams. Looking back, it might have been easier to let my dreams sleep a little longer, or maybe I could have I slowly worked toward my goals those ten years. I’ll never know, but here are some thing I’ve learned along the way.

Identifying Your Dream Passion
Sometimes it’s been so long since we let ourselves dream, that we’ve forgotten what our passions are. Think back to when you were little. What were the things that brought you joy? Did those same activities extend to your high school and college years? Did you lose your passion in the busyness of family rearing and life? Still stumped at identifying your passion? How about the things you did that you felt God’s smile of approval or presence in? Ask God to stir up a passion inside of you for His glory. Then expect him to! Here’s a peek at one of my childhood dreams…fulfilled!

Pray Before You Leap
It seems so simple, but why don’t we do it? For me, it’s because I’m driven and I see others with the “prize” and I think “I can do that.” But I’ve learned that no matter how hard I try or how talented I think I am, God’s the one in control, not me. I can strive all I want (and I believe in working toward my goals,) but ultimately God knows when I’m ready to take that leap toward my dreams. I’ve learned the hard way not to rush it. Don’t make the same mistake.

Banish the Naysayers
Sometimes our biggest dream killers are our inner voices that tell us our dreams are too impractical or unrealistic. That’s why they’re called dreams! While some seasons of dreaming might have to be practical like having a steady job or bigger home, I believe inside everyone is a dream that connects with our soul that if left to sleep too long with eventually die, killing your spirit as well! Allow yourself to wake the dream!

If you feel that now is your time to resurrect your dream, you might be terrified. But how scary is it to live without the pursuit of our passions? To live with the doubt of never knowing if you might have succeeded because your never even tried or gave up too soon.

I don’t want to live with those regrets.

Do you?

Bio:

Gina Conroy used to think she knew where her life was headed; now she’s leaning on the Lord to show her the way.  She is the founder of Writer…Interrupted  where she mentors busy writers and tries to keep things in perspective, knowing God’s timing is perfect, even if she doesn’t agree with it!  She is represented by Chip MacGregor of MacGregor Literary, and her first novella, Buried Deception, in the Cherry Blossom Capers Collection, releases from Barbour Publishing in January 2012. On her blog Defying Gravity and twitter she chronicles her triumphs and trials as she pursues her dreams while encouraging her family and others to chase after their own passions. Gina loves to connect with readers, and when she isn’t writing, teaching, or driving kids around, you can find her on Facebook and Twitter.

Book descriptions:

My Novella: Buried Deception

Mount Vernon archaeology intern and widow Samantha Steele wants to provide for her children without assistance from anyone. Security guard and ex-cop Nick Porter is haunted by his past and keeps his heart guarded. But when they discover an artifact at Mount Vernon is a fake, Nick and Samantha need to work together, set aside their stubbornness, and rely on each other or the results could be deadly. Will Samantha relinquish her control to a man she hardly knows? Can Nick learn to trust again? And will they both allow God to excavate their hearts so they can find new love?

Collection Summary, releasing January 2012

Four townhouse neighbors encounter romance and mystery near our nation’s capital. In State Secrets, White House assistant chef Tara Whitley and FBI agent Jack Courtland stop a plot to sabotage a State dinner—and find love still hidden in their hearts. In Dying for Love, attorneys and opponents Ciara Turner and Daniel Evans uncover love while searching for justice. In Buried Deception, archaeologist Samantha Steele and security guard Nick Porter dig up love while uncovering a forged artifact.  In Coffee, Tea and Danger, amateur sleuths Susan Holland and Vince Martinelli find love while investigating a string of mysterious accidents.

I took this picture for you today. I hope you can enjoy it on your computer.

Click on the picture below to see image in a new window then right click on that and save it to you desk top.

From there, when you right click the image you can select “save as my desktop background”.

The Crystal Cathedral, located in Garden Grove California, recently filed bankruptcy and in three years will be the new home of the catholic church.

Crystal Cathedral by ABC News

 Here is a post, that the daughter of fired senior pastor Schuller, wrote in response to the news. She says this of her uncles who lead the church, “Through their religious self-absorption, they convinced themselves they were “spiritually superior.” And in the process, they made a public mockery of Christianity”

I remember getting to see an opulent production at the Chrystal Cathedral early on in my marriage. It was the Christmas story and my husband had prepared me saying the experience would be unparalleled.

It was.

I laughed out loud when the angel rappelled on a cable through the gigantic sanctuary, more out of surprise than glee.

The singers were glorious, the production magnificent and yet something was missing.

I seemed to remember something about a smelly stable. About wild, fowl men tending sheep who came to see and worship a babe. The humility of an infant who was God. A mother and newborn child without even a bed.

No hairspray and expensive purses. No paying exorbitant prices for a ticket among hundreds.

Instead a murderous king.

Joseph with callous hands.

Mary, the scandal of the town.

The body of Christ is not a building but his people, messed up and unworthy so they can reflect his glory not their own.

I’ve been thinking about the historical story written in God’s word while reading the recent headlines and I wonder,

How many of America’s churches are missing it?

But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, so that the surpassing greatness of the power will be of God and not from ourselves; (2 Cor. 4:7 NASB)