July 30, 2013

• the perfect name-and other stories

   

  Summer girl.  (Victoria is having fun with a new camera and her sisters love to pose.)

  

  Summer girl, who said the other day when she was feeling bored, “If it was winter, there would be something to DO.”  Granted, it was raining again and it’s probably easier to play outside in the snow than in the rain.  But still!!

  

  Summer sisters.

  

  

   Andre is 6 now.  I love it that he still likes teddy bears. God gave me just the little boy I needed, even though finding out I was pregnant again when Natalia was only 6 months old was a hard surprise for me to accept at the time. He has such a kind heart and a whimsical way of expressing his often deep but slowly formulated views of life.  And I’m secretly so pleased that he hasn’t learned to say his r’s yet, though we’re working on it so his first grade teacher doesn’t have to.  The fact that he learned to ride bike on his 6th birthday brings him great, great happiness.  (I know.  Your son learned at age 3 and THAT is amazing!) 

  

  

   Saskatoons.  They’re berries on a tall bush that look kind of like huckleberries, but don’t taste as good.  They’re sort of bland and seedy, but they’re special when they’re fresh.  We grew up on them and folklore has it that the pioneers lived on moose meat, saskatoons, and rhubarb, all things which are plentiful in our region.

   I keep going into wordpress to sign up for a new blog, but then I get stumped when I need to put in a username.  Somewhere out there is a blog name that just FITS, but I haven’t found it yet.  When I used quiet_hearts on Xanga it was because I loved the words of Elisabeth Elliot’s book title, Keep a Quiet Heart.  But I don’t know if the name really fits me.  Though I long to keep a quiet heart, my own is often restless.

  The other night I was asking my family for blog name ideas, something that kind of encompasses both who I am and where we live.  Because where we live has a lot to do with who I am. 

  I am Mennonite and mom, lover of wide sky and prairie wind–gentle prairie wind.  (But I think I’d also like to live in the city with a tiny patio garden and fancy coffee shops within walking distance.)  My ideals are high, but the nitty gritty of life is teaching me to lower my expectations.  I garden big and sometimes I love it and sometimes I hate it.  I live on a ridge from which we can see for miles, even into the next province.  Hence our farm and sawmill name, Borderview.  It’s a land of canola and poplar trees, oil rigs (ugh) and mud.  Our water comes from a pond, called a dugout here. I love people and I love Jesus, but I want to love both more.  My home is not Pinterest pretty.  I dream too much and act too seldom. 

   

  Anyway.  We laughed hard over name ideas.  Most of them were made in fun. Most of them are absolutely lame.  (Now there I am, using that word which Alec uses far too often.)

  Dan:

  parson’s partner

  prairie chick

  prairie maid/made

  canola fairy [he knows well my love the bright yellow (though sadly cabbage-smelling) fields]

  wide views (literal and figurative)-though my blog can feel pretty narrow sometimes 

  gone with the wind (ha!)

  just peachey (I used to be a Peachey by name.)

  alberta rose (not very orginal.  The wild rose is our provincial flower and everything around here is named after them.)

   Alec: 

  rigs are rising

  myhairisfallingout  (I have been moaning loudly about thinning hair.)

  3 green doors (what our house has)

   Bryant:

  weather grumbler (when I asked them for words that describe me best.  Ouch.)

  poplar princess

   Victoria:

  peas past my knees

  thru an unsmudged window

  thoughts scrawled on sticky notes

  anti-oilfield

   Natalia said the fantastic cook and Andre said farm of the john deeres. 

  I’ve been thinking of off the deep end, but that sounds cynical.  Goosey Luci might work.  Or noble ideals/frazzled ends.  Thoughtslikespaghetti?  willowbythedugout? 

  G.A.H.

  Nothing works. 

  Maybe someone savvy out there can give me a good name.  Or why can’t I just be lucimartin and call it a day?  Why this search for meaning and identity? 

   Embarrassed by my narcissism, I will close out this frivolous post.

  Dan bought a package of swiss cheese and is saving it in the fridge for our August anniversary outing.  We seldom buy swiss cheese.  I don’t know where we’ll go or what we’ll do for our 17th anniversary (and I don’t think he has a clue either) , but every time I see that package I feel loved.

  Thanks for reading here today. 

   

   

   

   

   

  • 1:36 am
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