Why the kitchen floor?

The name of my new blog is likely not self-evident. What does the kitchen floor have to do with my recordings of life?

In all honesty, it was the most creative name I could come up with. (I always feel bad ending a sentence with a preposition. How 'bout: "...the most creative name with which I could come up.")

But this name has also been on my heart since I first felt the urge to blog nearly 2 years ago.

For me, it symbolizes that relative simplicity of my thoughts and the happenings of my life. And on a much more practical note, it represents where I spend most of my time, do most of my thinking, and observe most of my life - from the kitchen.

Even if I didn't love to cook, the time spent standing bare foot on my kitchen floor is largely inproportional to time spent in other rooms, say with my feet up on the couch reading a great book. I devote so much time to this particular room of the house, picking up the never ending flow of crumbs and dirt that make their way to this floor, stepping over the toys that are apparently much more fun to play with on this floor than on the play room floor, and standing here preparing and preserving a never ending flow of food.

So many times when I cannot pick up both of my babies and give them the love they are craving at the moment, I will sink to the kitchen floor and hold them in my arms as they climb on me and attempt to get the best spot in my lap before the other.

And on one isolated occassion, I completely laid down on the kitchen floor unable to move or get up or carry on one more task, and I was forced to ask myself if I maybe had a touch of depression.

And from the windows of my kitchen, I observe so much of the simple life that transpires here on our small 5 acres.

Which as you can see is mostly the antics of my toddlers in their fence.

And a lot of it makes me smile and laugh, some of it makes me cry, and all of it is stored up in my heart.