Dear’s Rest achieves, I believe, the best of both worlds when it comes to cabins in the woods and bed and breakfasts because it is both. Tucked away from the hustle and bustle of city dwelling, nestled deep in the Ozarks, this B&B offers privacy and solitude for guests. When you make a reservation you know that you’ll have an entire cabin’s worth of space to yourself—no sharing that clawfoot tub with strangers and no flimsy door between you and the honeymooners next door. However, Dear’s Rest is not just a cabin, it is a full-functioning bed and breakfast. If you’re enjoying a stay without your four year old, you just might awaken to Linda and Allan in the kitchen, creating one of their masterpiece breakfasts. (If you’re sleeping with your four year old, you’ll probably wake when the sun begins to peek over the horizon. “Mom, the sun’s out,” when translated, means “Look alive, Mom. Open your eyes, sit up and get out of bed!”)

And the breakfasts, oh, the breakfasts! Day one of our vacation included Linda’s specialty, fruit compote, a gigantic plateful of heart-shaped waffles with golden pecan syrup, a salsa & cream cheese omelet (now I’m drooling again), bacon and fried potatoes. For those who enjoy reading about food, I’ll continue… The next day we ate broiled grapefruit (seriously delicious), English Muffins Extraordinaire, fried potatoes and orange julius (the best I’ve ever tasted). The final day, the morning Jeremy and I held back so we wouldn’t go into food comas on the drive home, we oohed and aahed over a platter of sweet rolls, sausage, those delightful fried potatoes, and a cheese souffle. So so good. Tonight I’ve eaten a full dinner at home and I still wish I could take on one of Linda’s breakfasts.

We did attempt activities other than eating. After praying for sunshine in the days leading up to our getaway, we enjoyed a warm Sunday afternoon in the new pool (new-to-us at least, it wasn’t there ten years ago) and spent some good time splashing and wading in Bull Creek. When the heavens opened up and the downpours began, we played in the sleeping loft and watched Babe, the same movie Jeremy and I watched at Dear’s Rest on our honeymoon. For the life of me I can’t tell you why we watched that particular film when no children were about, but there you have it.

We even managed to bring a bit of the Ozarks home with us. A matching set of ticks: one for Liv and one for me. [shudder]

Last Saturday we drove 400 miles and parked in front of this tree. After 10 years of married living, we returned, this time with daughter in tow, to our honeymoon destination in the Ozarks. The weekend was fun, relaxing, peaceful, and just what we needed. Stay tuned for more blogging on Dear’s Rest.

After my last haircut Livia told me I looked like ElastiGirl. And while wearing Liv’s birthday mask (something she’s warming up to, something I predict will be lots of fun to her in the future) I felt like a superhero. There’s just something exciting and daring about the mask… I felt like I was up to something great as I wiped down the kitchen counters, ran laundry to the basement and snapped photos of my amazing super self.

How did people make fools of themselves before blogs? Did anyone ever really have fun before public embarrassment?

Last weekend I had the privilege of working backstage for Studio 139’s dance recital. And let me tell you something, there’s just nothing cuter than little dancers. (I should know; my own tiny dancer about knocked my socks off with cuteness each week during lessons. But then we took her out of dance because sitting in another mommy’s lap during class just didn’t seem worth the tuition.)

Here are some tap dancin’ girls backstage during rehearsal. I love it that they were practicing on their own accord, without their instructor present.

The dances were beautiful—this one may have been my favorite. The girls danced on pointe to music by Furusato-Nanbu Morioka and it was really lovely. They did a wonderful job.

Sometimes the stagehand got a bit bored during dress rehearsal and started doing silly things, things like photographing herself in semi-dramatic poses. This shot reminds me of my grandmother Iola. If she had been young in the digital age she totally would’ve taken shots like these.

Many congrats to Joie for putting on such a wonderful show. It was amazing and I’m excited for next year.

Several mamas, along with our multitude of chilluns, drove out to Bloom Where You’re Planted Farm in Avoca last week. Like an idiot, I tried to locate the farm at 108th Street in Lincoln (note to self: Lincoln is NOT Avoca) and thus arrived a bit on the late side. All motherly gaffes aside, the visit was a joy. Our crazy preschoolers ran around the farm petting cows and attempting to pet horses. Some kids even listened a little bit to the mini-lessons on farming. The highlight of the visit had to be the opportunity to drink milk of multiple hues, including Cotton Candy milk, Rootbeer milk, and Strawberry milk. The good folks at Bloom Where You’re Planted and Legacy Dairy rocked… Thanks for a very fun visit!

For each perfect gift of Thine,
To our race so freely given,
Graces human and divine,
Flowers of earth and buds of Heaven.

Lord of all, to Thee we raise,
This our hymn of grateful praise.

Livia attended her first Husker football game last week. I thought it was pretty cool and, of course, I thought my kid looked pretty cute. Check out Scowly Guy down the row. He didn’t seem to think my wiggly three year old was all that cute.

I can admit I’m a social football fan. Feed me nachos, a slice of pizza or a Fairbury hot dog and I can sit still… for the first half.

I really go to the games because I enjoy the time with my Dad, and the rest of the state of Nebraska. For you non-Nebraskans out there (poor you!), Memorial Stadium becomes the third largest city in the state on game days. We’re fiercely loyal to our college football team because, well, there’s nothing else to do in this state. Football is our thing.

As socially interested as I am in Husker games, I’ve recently been educated somewhat on the actual rules of the sport. Thank you, Friday Night Lights! So now, instead of wondering about what’s going on in the midst of all those players, I just think of Matt Saracen and Tim Riggins (ahem) and it’s all crystal clear. Or maybe not so much.

One thing I know is true: There is no place like Memoral Stadium on game day. The crowd, the noise, the excitement; I love it.

I could take pictures of eggs all the live long day. In the second shot, I placed my favorite dyed egg on the windowsill and asked Liv to give me her favorite one. As you can tell, her “baby bird” was already “hatching”.