Earlier this week, I got a lovely box o' L'Engle (of the Madeleine variety) from Amazon, and I've been slowly soaking in A Circle of Quiet, the first of her Crosswicks journals. Published in 1972, it's "the attempt of a gifted woman to define and explore the meaning of her life," according to her website. Anyway, aside from having to look up several words and sit and think for a while to figure out what they really mean in the context of the book -- specifically ontology, a word I remembered from college philosophy courses, but couldn't explain or understand anymore -- it's been a joy to read. Madeleine L'Engle's books are so familiar to me, they're like old friends. She's one of those authors I've read so often I feel like I know her, and it's been wonderful to get inside her mind and realize she was very human. She made me feel good about sitting and enjoying a book in the midst of housekeeping failure (yes, that's a pile of unfolded laundry about 2 feet tall in the picture above).
Oops, I hear little noises from upstairs, so I'll leave you with this, the secret to long naps and sleeping (almost) all night solo: swaddling. Yes, I know he's eight months old, but honestly I don't care if he wants to sleep swaddled until he's 15 as long as he sleeps. So I used it as an excuse to make the cutey cute cute swaddling blanket from (who else?) Prudent Baby:
|he's totally thinking, "are you for real? this is not cute."|