Personally, I need to take a break from the Seven Deadly Sins. After committing intense gluttony on Thursday and vile greed on Friday, I really don’t care to preach.

Paul and I have been lost in “regular” life for awhile. Days are filled from beginning to end with a) earning money to buy the food, b) buying the food with the money we earned or c) preparing the food we bought with the money we earned. If any slot of time remains unfilled, it is used up by a) earning money to pay for children’s activities, b) earning money to pay for the gas for the children’s activities, c) paying for children’s activities and gas and d) running the children to their activities.

This is life.

I guess.

There must be something more.

Which means … we must be more efficient. I implemented a new weekly routine where the girls will help with chores. I know I’ve discussed it before and gathered some excellent ideas from my readers. But isn’t it amazing how we can nod vigorously, agree wholeheartedly, and turn around and forget everything?

I’ve been consumed with the move. To get a long-time, unemployed, foreclosed-upon family back into working and running order has been no small task. Homeschool started, but … there was no money for curriculum.

Inventing curriculum is an intense, time-consuming task made all the more frustrating if you know you’re re-inventing the wheel.

Meals were needed, but the pantry was empty. All summer long, the girls begged for me to bake.

“When we get settled,” was my perpetual answer.

We got settled.

I started a batch of rolls.

No yeast.

I whipped up some molasses sugar cookie dough.

No ginger.

No horseradish. No lemon juice. No steak sauce, ketchup, or mustard.

All those basics that aren’t any big deal to replenish when it disappears here and there were gone all at once.

And Paul’s big, beautiful fat salary doesn’t go very far when everyone is clamoring for a piece of it. When the list of foodstuffs needed to fill the pantry is written, I gasp at the sight of it.

Goodness. Then, we have two birthdays and two major holidays to provide.

I keep saying, “Quit being impatient. It will just take awhile to get back on our feet again.”

But how long?

And all the while Paul and I jog towards 40 wondering when will it be our turn? When will we be who we want to be?

We took a walk and talked about it. We got in a tiff, blaming each other for why we weren’t where we wanted to be. But in the end, we came to the same conclusion.

There are no excuses.

And there is only one way to be who we want to be. It is deceptively simple. It is so simple, it is smuggled past us like Nazrudin’s donkeys all of the time.

Be who I want to be.

It is sound advice. When it comes time to choose between a movie or writing, write. When the celebrity trash headlines beckon, yet I complain I have no time to read good books, read. If it is best to allow my girls to do their activities, plan ahead. Have my computer ready to write. Have my book or book-on-CD handy. Then, read and write.

Plan an adventure the week previous. Don’t try and do it once Saturday arrives. It will always be squashed. Obstacles will always come. We must expect them.

Whenever we reach for our destiny, it is inevitable that something will pop-up to stop us.

I got another job offer in South Albany.

So, after our tiff. Paul and I decided to, once again, erect the shining barrier around our family. We re-stated to ourselves that homeschooling was a choice. We chose it because we wanted something specific and special for our family. It is a sacrifice we committed to making. We choose it. And it looks like we’ll need to continue choosing what is truly important to us, over and over again.

Hiking. Outdoors. Sketching. Reading. Writing. Painting. Talking. Observing. Laughing. Being.