Candylicious

The candy party was a success. Monkey had a pretty good turnout, which was a stunning change from earlier in the year. The kids ran through most of the games in about an hour so I pulled out the cupcakes to buy some time. (We had simple swirl cupcakes, with the creamiest vanilla frosting I've ever made. Then the girls got to decorate with as many Jelly Bellys as their little hearts desired.) The last activity turned out to be the one that finally got them playfully engaged. It was also the only activity that was entirely my creation rather than something taken from an online resource. It was a nice little moment of pride after worrying the party would flop. (We gave them fictitious candy names. The teams had to decide what the candy would be like and then create a commercial for it.) Each girl went away with a bag full of candy - and a few non-edibles, which made Stan and I feel better. Monkey & Peanut were overjoyed to discover that they not only got goodie bags, but got to keep the extras, too. They've spent the past few dessert times ignoring all baked goods, blissing out on various sugar conduits. Thanks to World Market for some out-of-the-ordinary candy to go along with the staples, the novelty of which has increased their joy.

Mama got a bit of candy, herself, in the form of an impeccably well written mystery. Brat Farrar, which is part of a collection by Josephine Tey, was just the right end to the weekend. My only complaint is that the story couldn't have lasted a little longer. I've enjoyed these three stories immensely and will be searching out more by Tey and her pseudonyms.

What's it Worth to You?

I was up too late last night. As is often the case, I was up too late finishing a murder mystery. Stan has remarked that I chew through books (which is a habit I developed from my mother.) Like the nutritional value in food, books have varying levels of good they bring. Murder mysteries are potato chip books. So tasty, inviting, and hard to quit. I love both the books and the chips but inevitably, when I've let one of them take over my will, I end up asking whether it was really worth it.

I'm also reading some non-fluffy books in my temporary respite from mothering. I'm re-reading French Women Don't Get Fat which boils so many daily choices down to that simple question: Is it worth it to you? You can have the big bowl of ice cream (the flavor your kids picked which doesn't honestly taste all that great) but are you really enjoying it? What's the point of drinking wine with your dinner if you don't take the time to savor it? You can buy lots of mediocre veggies and then cover them in fatty sauce but wouldn't it be better to buy the fresh stuff and then enjoy it as simply as nature intended?

That question seems to be at the crux of so many things for me these days. I could read this book that doesn't do much for me (and isn't well written) but is it worth what am I giving up? I could turn on the tv to wash away my worries but what would happen if I instead turned to my guitar or paints?

I'm a big fan of reading just for the pleasure of it; I find great entertainment in some tv shows; I adore potato chips. I don't want any of those things to be cleansed from my life entirely but I hope to be more intentional and honest with myself about my choices. I want to strive for what is good rather than settle for what it acceptable. I want to fill my life with things that are worth it. I want to set a good example for my kids of what a life well lived looks like. More than that, though, I want to live a life that nurtures my soul and allows me to flourish, whatever I face.