Crazy Love…
The Book Club
Well, the needs have increased in a glorious, overwhelming way.
So, I have a proposal for you all.
If you would like to donate a book (or bookS) to someone who can’t buy it, will you shoot me an email (angelac519@gmail.com) that has “crazy love sponsor” in the title? I will send you the address of someone who has requested a book and you can send it directly to them.
Maybe you own the book and have already read it and want to pass it along…GREAT!!!
Whatever you can do is so appreciated. I want this to feel like community, and if I could do it all myself, I promise I would. Unfortunately (and fortunately…), Mr. Chan has written a book that A LOT of people want to be a part of, and there is no way I can do it on my own.
I have had several people write asking to donate books and it triggered this thought, so if you can do that, let me know!!!!
Music and Love
Cranium
The Book Choice Is….
Help Me Pick A Book!
Winners for Homemade Home!
Anne and the shower…
Homemade Home
She sent me and my friend Jess some advance copies so we could check it out, and we had a blast making one of the projects in the book.
Homemade Home from angie smith on Vimeo.
Love to you all!
Ang
(in)courage post
(I thought this was going to be up late tonight, but I guess it’s first thing in the morning! Check back on (in)courage then and hopefully it will be there!)
AND there will be another fun post up tomorrow (with video!) How fancy is that?!?!?!
The Yellow Line
When I was about 4 years old, my parents checked me into the hospital for a week.
My feet dangled off the edge of a chair, ankles crossed together and swinging from front to back while I waited.
I had bitten my nails down to nothing, and now they were tucked into fists, sweaty and restless.
I had on a blue corduroy dress with flowers on the pockets.
I was terrified.
I wasn’t a normal four year old, or at least that’s what they told me.
Normal kids don’t have to check to see if the stove is turned off before they go to bed, nor do they obsess about baby sister’s breathing.
They don’t stare out the glass door and wait for daddy’s car, crying because he might be hurt or lost.
And so I sat.
A few minutes later, I followed the nurses down a long hallway and they put me in a big bed with plastic rails. They gave me a red Popsicle and told me they would be back.
Then they disappeared around the corner with my mother.
**To read the rest, please go to www.incourage.me***

















