Patchy, at best

I have opened up the comments. I didn't actually know what my setting was, but I had three different people tell me that they would like to leave comments, but couldn't because they didn't have a google account, or couldn't remember their password. I like comments, and I hope I don't get any mean anonymous ones, or ones in different languages trying to get me and my LEGION of readers to sign up for some sort of Chinese ponzi scheme.

Further evidence of my shocking lack of technology acumen: a couple of weekends ago I had this very unpleasant sinus/allergy thing, during which I was confined to the bed for an entire day with only my trusty iPad and a doting chihuahua to grant me solace, and it somehow popped up on the Facebook that I had "liked" an article that I had not even read, and had CERTAINLY not "liked." It happened to be an article (I did go and peruse the first paragraph, while quivering with indignation) about Michelle Duggar's uterus writing a letter of protest. I would never read or "like" such an article, because I actually have the utmost respect for Mrs. Duggar and her family. Also, everyone knows that a uterus can't write a letter. Anyway, I had been on the site where the article was listed, in order to, and this is a twist, read an article about how Facebook was posting supposedly private messages on public walls, and how to fix it. I don't know if Sasha the dog managed to hit the like button in her zeal to get just a little bit closer to me in my infirmity, or if one of the kids did it in their eagerness to help me feel better so I would get up and go outside so they could ride their bikes. Anyway, it made me even more scared of Facebook.

Helena has been waking up at around 6 am and she will get up and get herself dressed and then play in her room until she hears the Daddy rustling around. Some of the outfits she puts together are less than matching, but I do not comment, because I love that she is getting herself up independently. She also will wander into the kitchen and get everyone a spoon and their vitamin, and place them neatly on the table. Of course, the other two find reasons to be displeased with her spoon choices, which makes me sigh.

I turned 42 on Saturday. Which means I am a little more than halfway through my life, statistically. The husband got me mini bundt cakes, we ate out TWICE, and I bought a very ugly pair of slippers for 75% off at the mall. AND my parents came on Friday, which is always a delight. They always give me money on my birthday and I bought a new shirt and a cardigan and also a Noonday bracelet. Harper also made me three bracelets all by herself. Here's a picture: (L-R: Harper Designs, Noonday, Harper Designs, the ugly slippers in the background. I had to kick while posing)

One of the churches we've been visiting has a huge pumpkin patch every October. The kids were all very excited to go to church this morning. Because they love to worship God in community with other believers (where there just happen to be hundreds of pumpkins):