50:17 Zilch, Nada, Nothing

17) Write a letter to a family member


Monday brought the blues my way, and I don’t much feel like thinking about anyone or anything, so I am pulling out of the archives to answer number 17.

It is a post I wrote to my children for Mother’s Day a few years ago in protest of the notion that motherhood is a sacrifice of some kind, and that I should be venerated for the constant delight and thankfulness having children has produced in my life.

It is a bit stale, and I can happily say that I have managed to break free, but the sentiment is still alive and well within, and is a happy thought to hold on to as I wait for the doldrums to pass, as they always do.


The Best of Me

Sacrifice, I don’t think so. I would be so much less without the adventures we have had. I want you kids to know this, really know this, internalize it, sear it into your psyche, deep. Got it? Good.

You need to know I delight in you. It has been the greatest gift that you could ever give me these friendships we have embarked upon as you have matured into adults. I not only love you all deeply, but I like you, respect you, admire your integrity and wit. Sigh…I could not have asked for anything more than this as your mother.

Think of it this way, do you feel like you are sacrificing to be around me lately, or are you just being patient and loving, helping me through this period of angst I am amidst. Really it could be likened to your growing years, with all my moaning and groaning, and my occasional roaring, protesting life, and how it just never gets any easier.

But this has nothing to do with being a mother. I think it must be that fairytale we buy into, where somehow, sometime, we will be all grown up, and everything will just fall into place. All those foibles and gosh darn peccadilloes will resolve themselves and we will have arrived. Well I am sorry to tell you kids that’s just not so.

Oh sure you get better at mitigating, but one day you reach the tipping point, that nebulous moment when a strand of your tightly woven togetherness falters, weakened by age and use, and you begin the slow laborious rebirth of starting over, the learning how to be old before it’s too late. It is so disappointing, and refreshing, to realize you never do get to grow up, instead, if you are very lucky, you break free.

But I am not alone, I have help. Someone to laugh with me as I falter and struggle with this process of discovering a new adventure now that I only have myself to take care and no excuses.

Besides through the years I have learned so much from all of you that I am way ahead of the curve. Much better off than before I had you, and was trying to learn how to be a young adult all by myself

So please, please, please never isolate and smother me with the cloak of sacrifice. Instead let’s continue to give of ourselves, to each other, always and forever, and never forget, you give me the best of me, I would be so much less without you.

much love mom


50:16 Invisibility Wars Within

17) Seven things learned from being a kid?


  • Never let them see you cry. It makes you prey.
  • How to be invisible, by being outrageous.
  • Never say what you really think, or ridicule will ensue.
  • How to eat really fast; quietly
  • Walking long distances can be enjoyable.
  • Books are better than friends.
  • Never cheat, it steals the sweetness of a hard won victory.
  • Honor and truth and loyalty can never be overrated.

The hard thing is to unlearn some of these lessons when they fit so comfortably, like a well used pair of boots.

Thus I am often at war with myself.


50:13 Unfathomable

13) Your first love 💕

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I would have to say, my first true love arrived with my first child. Her birth saved my life; she gave me a reason to live. Thankfully, I went on to have four more children, and because love is such an unfathomable thing, and it grows and stretches and accommodates everyone equally into its fold, I was, and am still, deeply in love with my growing family.

However, as true and as wonderful as my love for them is, it was not until Jesus first loved me that I was able to accept, and believe, others love of me in return.

I always felt unworthy and that I needed to earn their love, and be perfect to keep it.

And obviously I am not perfect, thus I was never secure.

Well, my Lord and Savior changed all that when He wrapped His grace round me tight and held me close. It is indescribable, that blanket of pure bliss, so I will give up the effort.

Only say, that all things are possible for God, and being indwelt by His Spirit gives me a strength I could never have dreamed of, and peace and joy and contentment, regardless of my circumstance.

So, if He loves me like that, who am I to question God.

I must be worthy after all, just as I am.




50:12 Silver Bells and Cockle Shells

12) A how-to post on something you know nothing about.


I do many things I know absolutely nothing about, and I manage to do this by utilizing my resources, or in other words, I ask my splendiforous children.

Unfortunately this doesn’t make much of a how to post, because what do I say besides, I ask? However I can share one of the ventures I have done without know-how before hand, or to be completely honest, without enough know-how even now.

It began with the discovery of the therapeutic nature of a shovel.


Thus began the Great Grass War…

Which is still in progress at this point…..

We have reached the far side of the front yard, where things have stalled as they tend to do around here. Well at least until the blazing sun gives us some respite, or the muscles come home for a visit.

I suppose I can end by sharing that my view of utilizing my resources changed significantly when I began homeschooling my youngest two children. For at the public school it was frowned upon to ask others for the answers, as if it was cheating. But I came to understand that it didn’t matter how you came to learn something as long as you did learn it. I mean really isn’t that the point?

Why has learning become a competition, rather than the simple pursuit of knowledge?

Anyway, I found it liberating to realize a significant part of homeschooling was about learning how to learn more than anything else, and that I was not going to have to spoon-feed every lesson forever, because once they learned how to take an objective and find the answers themselves, they were unstoppable.

Well, this is not going as I wanted, it appears that I have not yet learned how to easily communicate what I mean.

But then again, when has not knowing how ever stopped me before 😉



A Point Revisited

The writing of this blog has had several purposes throughout the course of its existence. Several I was unaware of until their time was past and goal accomplished, but really, I do not feel much into rehashing old things. Instead, I have been befuddled as to why I should still keep up with this project in the moment of now. Especially considering how elusive and difficult the whole process has become of late.

Then my eldest daughter asked me to stop deleting post and just hide the whole darn thing if I was truly done with the process of writing for a public forum, because she would like to have it as a record of what I was like. Of course that means when I am dead, but what the heck, what’s wrong with that anyway. It is why I started writing in the first place, but it somehow got lost as I got carried away by the word flow.

And what’s really incredibly interesting, to me, is that now I feel somewhat obligated to continue with my acts of public exposure. Thankfully though, it does free me up to be mediocre, and just find some random list to answer, as honestly as possible of course, because who doesn’t want to know what celebrity their grandmother would have liked to invite to dinner.

Hum…now that I think about, I would be curious to know who my folks found interesting enough to break open the doors of their hermitage and entertain, but only because they are my history. So maybe I am just continuing their legacy by choosing to be a hermit myself, or maybe we are hermits because outside over there is just too overwhelming with all its over stimulation, or maybe we are just inherently selfish, or maybe I could go on forever with maybes, which do not change the status quo, and maybe I just like being alone, and it is as simple as that.

All I can say is thank goodness I will be gone.

Here you should insert a whole bunch of snorting in disbelieve, along with much head shaking, for when have I ever followed through with anything, but then again, I am also very fond of low expectations. So this blog is actually just my cup of tea.

Blessings Belinda



You Don’t Say

Okay, I have been trying to catalogue the patterns I have accumulated from various family members so that I can share with anyone who needs a pattern, or maybe I will just sell them. There are around a thousand.

However, selling my things is something I am not usually inclined to do, because I am so often the recipient of generosity with incoming stuff, that I like to do the same with possessions going out. But I am having so much fun with these and their occasional memories, besides if I had the time, I would so love to make them instead.

Anyway, pure self indulgence it would be, to make clothes that no one would wear.

Because I gotta ask, did men ever really dress like this?


Note the long cigarette holder 😳


Is he wearing his polyester bed spread?


My daughter assures me that yes, this was a thing, but why?


This is just wrong on so many levels, the Apache look, really 😧



Women have their share of what where you thinking too, like those pants, but still it doesn’t begin to come close to what I am seeing for men. Maybe the women in my family used the clothes they made to get back at their men for something, and they guilted them into wearing because of their tireless effort. Yep that must be it, torture by attire.


I wish I had possessed this pattern in my twenties, it would have been my go to dress…sigh

I did find many patterns that took me down memory lane such as…


I still have this dress, the one in yellow, but mine is pink. There are pictures of me wearing it with a tiny pink Angora beret, my mom always did have style.


This little apron was amazing. The felt decorations buttoned on, and I only got to wear it on a holiday over my school dresses. Yes we did have to dress this way to go to school, Mary Janes and all.


School clothes 🤓


First communion


The black one was for fifth grade graduation, along with white patent leather gogo boots of course.


Then things begin to change and these were my summer clothes between fifth and sixth grade and by middle school the rules changed and girls could wear pants and sneakers to school.


More memories, eighth grade graduation, long dresses seem to come and go routinely. It was difficult to go to the Disneyland party wearing this, but it was lovely.


I was planning on making this for high school prom but was told it was inappropriate. My oh my how things have changed since then.

College days

Well this is getting long, but what the heck ☺️

I am very curious how these work? I am going to have to make one for my soon to be granddaughter to find out.

Along with some of these.

And she could have the best dressed doll in town 💕

Thinking of dolls, I think I will take a few of the ones I really want to make like…..

Hollly Hobbie and….

Wee Willie Winkie and….

Make large dolls to put them on. But then who do I foist the dolls off on 🤔


Whose waist is that small 🤨



So much fun to be had.


Hammer Time, can’t touch this!

If you made it all the way to here, I am full of wonder and praise for your amazing perseverance. Happy day, Belinda


Peace and Onion Tea


Whenever my one of mother’s days became too chaotic, she would sigh and wistfully murmur, how lovely it would be to have a wee bit of peace and onion tea, and as a child it seemed to me that it must be the ultimate of concoctions.

Of course now as an adult, I know that she was wishing for peace and unity among her seven children, however I like to ignore that kernel of knowing, and remember instead my unfulfilled desire for that ever elusive onion tea of peace and quiet.

Recently though I have come close, as I sit in front of my large picture window and watch the hummingbirds, butterflies, and our adventurous rabbit, bebop, flit, and flurry in the sun, shining on the wonder my front yard has become.

Thus I am ever so thankful for my own splendiferous batch of frequently load and chaotic offspring, who have given me my own little piece of paradise, and all without having to choke down some horrific onion tea first.