I'm still completely frustrated by the right sidebar on my other blog, and since only two of my three kids are sleeping, meaning I can't go nap off the frustration myself, I've been consoling myself by reading other people's blogs, but then decided it's high time I wrote something myself.

Yesterday, it rained all day. However, I didn't feel this was a big loss, since I was so overtired from only getting about four hours sleep the night before.

By the way, the first night of my concerted effort was a so-so success. I was almost in bed by 12:03, then remembered a mistake I made in my blog entry in reference to the Princess Bride that certain members of my family would probably have thrown the ignorance of into my face until the day I die politely corrected me about, so I came and fixed it quickly and was laying in bed at 12:18 a.m. Not bad, I thought. At 1:45 a.m., I was remembering the "See Talena toss and turn for an hour and a half" line in my blog and wondering if I had spoken that into existence, or what. However, I determined to just stay in bed no matter now long it took to fall asleep, and blissfully, sleep did come not long after that.

The next night? Let's not talk about it.

But LAST night I got about eight hours of (non-continuous) sleep! I wish Jabin would just make up his mind that he can sleep for 11 to 12 hours straight every night, and not just once a week or so. I guess I should just be thankful for what I get, but waking up with the sun (which is around 4 a.m. up here) is getting old. And so am I, apparently, because when I was younger, surviving on 6 hours of sleep a night was just something I did, all the time, with no afternoon nap to buoy up my flagging energies, and no caffeine addiction, either. I didn't even like pop. (I will confess to the occasionaly chocolate bar. Oh, and I was rather fond of chocolate milk, although that indulgence was also sporadic.)

Anyways, today the sun! the glorious sun! is shining, and little white puffy clouds are dotting the sky like cotton balls on a sapphire-coloured blanket, and I hear the green, green grass and the trees calling me. So, as soon as the boys wake up, I think we will go for a walk.

We went for a walk on Wednesday, and the boys played for a while at a little grassy park about a block away from here for over half an hour. On one side, it has a rather large clump of poplars, carraganna bushes, and underbrush that the boys were whacking with their "swords", and attacking the "monsters" that came issuing forth. (I love that Jude's imagination is really becoming apparent, now.)

When I was a girl, one of my favourite things to do was to walk in the trees. On our acreage, we only had one thin treeline that ran the length of the east side, but I would walk down the paths the horses had made for shade and shelter, straight down the middle, and pretend I was in a huge forest with faeries and wood nymphs under every leaf and on every branch. I was a princess in a world of my own making, with magical flying talking horses, beautiful dresses, and handsome prince charmings. I even had magical powers myself, and could morph into any creature I wanted.

What a wonderful thing imagination is. Even now, when the sun is shining, and I stick my head into the trees, I can almost hear the faeries calling my name...

I hope my boys continue to have active imaginations. What a great tool.

And thank you, Lord, that my imagination--and my remembered fantasyland--are both still active. Thank you for reminding me a bit about the wonders of being a child, when everything is still magical and not explained away by technical-sounding scientific terms.

Thank you for the age of innocence.