I just thought it might be helpful to provide a few hints so that you can tell whether or not your 10-year-old boy has discovered that girls don't have Cooties. Now, you may think that it isn't an actual issue, but "Cooties" is an actual medical condition that I think must have been eradicated, perhaps in view of all the inoculations that have become so prevalent. I know that it is an actual condition because it used to be that the Mayo Clinic actually had a web page devoted to it. (They don't any more. That's why I think the disease must have been eradicated.)
My 10-year-old son has joined the realm of those who have gotten past the concern for getting Cooties. This is how I can tell:
1. He used to have to be reminded to take showers. I remember asking him once, "How long has it been since you took a shower?" thinking that it might have been he hadn't taken one that day. I should have known from the interesting fumes emanating from him. He said, nonchalantly, "Three days." "Aaagggh!" I shrieked. "Go take one now!" These days he takes one every morning before coming downstairs.
2. He changes his socks more often. I don't see any walking around by themselves any more. (For that matter, he's more willing to wear them in the first place, since not doing so has bad effect on his shoes.) We've recently discussed (again) what clothes he needs to change every day and what can wait. And he was receptive to the news. We're making progress!
3. He looks in the mirror, and sometimes he isn't making faces or seeing how many weird noises he can make with his mouth and what shapes his mouth takes on in the process; he's trying the handsome, cool, with-it kind of expressions instead. Silently.
4. He is specific about what kind of soap, shampoo, and hair stuff he wants. It's always something with a strong, manly scent. Well, better strong manly on a 10-year-old than strong...well, you know.
5. He makes cards even for little girls who come over to visit. At least, he did the other day. For three sisters, so I guess it wasn't to impress one in particular, unless he is trying to throw me off the case a little bit.
6. He welcomes the idea of being in certain places where it's a new thing for for him to want to be. Places where certain little girls are present.
7. At church he asks to use the breath freshening spray before meet-and-greet time.
8. His teeth don't have sweaters on any more. They tend to be shinier and whiter, and his dentist doesn't scold him so heartily as he used to. Okay, occasionally he forgets to brush, but far less than he used to.
9. He cares more about wearing impressive types of clothes that have some structure and lack ragged edges, rather than the ratty comfortable ones. At least, usually. Well, at least when he predicts the possibility of seeing girls.
10. When he goes to friends' houses who have sisters, all the above benefits go into full implementation, whereas this used to be the least likely incentive for soap and sudsiness.
Sigh. I don't know if this is a good trend, since in some ways, he's safer not liking girls until he's of marriageable age, but it does keep him cleaner and tamer for the present in peaceful and pleasant ways. My mom used to say that "it's an ill wind that brings no one any good," meaning even bad things have benefit for someone, somewhere. And the wind is sweeter, these days. I like this change, myself, even if we do have far more discussion, prayer and teaching before we are through with these subjects of girls, personal hygiene, and appearance.
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Sunday, January 04, 2009
Monday, December 01, 2008
Well, Mom...
This afternoon a huge nasty big black fly has been flying around energetically, never landing so I can cream him out of existence...I have to wait until he tires himself out. And he's so chubby it will either work against him, or supply the fuel he needs to outlast me.
So I was showing Tim as the big black dot whipped its way through the kitchen. I said, "It's weird. If you get houseflies this time of year, they generally are small, and slow. But not this one, it's big and energetic. And it isn't like we've been going in and out, opening doors to let flies in. I don't know where he came from."
Tim gave me a look with a twinkle in his eye, and said, "Well, Mom, when two flies love each other a lot..." Thankfully he didn't go on.
Aaagh. For more hatred and marital discord between flies...
So I was showing Tim as the big black dot whipped its way through the kitchen. I said, "It's weird. If you get houseflies this time of year, they generally are small, and slow. But not this one, it's big and energetic. And it isn't like we've been going in and out, opening doors to let flies in. I don't know where he came from."
Tim gave me a look with a twinkle in his eye, and said, "Well, Mom, when two flies love each other a lot..." Thankfully he didn't go on.
Aaagh. For more hatred and marital discord between flies...
Thursday, July 31, 2008
A Funny Recollection
Since I can't think of anything current to blog about...I don't know why, suddenly I'm just coming up dry...I want to tell a funny recollection from back when I guess I could say things were for the moment more interesting.
Last August (nearly a year back) when we were dropping Katie off at her college in California, we met up with another family we know from our previous church, and had dinner with them at the Keg and Platter there. (Now, that previous church was then already our previous church as of May or June of that year.) We talked about a great many things, and were having a great time. But we as a family were not sure whether they as a family knew that we had left their church. It isn't an enormous church, just a few hundred there, but there are two services, and besides, this family had close family friends who were all excited about their daughter's engagement and I think it had them all distracted. We didn't know of any tactful way to broach the subject, and so we just didn't bring it up. What do you do, change the subject from all the various distractions at the college and say, "By the way, did you know that we left the church many months ago?" We didn't want them choking on their steak, after all. It really was fairly amusing, considering that we tend to be at church every Sunday--more faithfully than most of the pastors we've ever known--because we hardly travel, at all. Yes, now you wonder why I have so little to blog about? Yes. That may be it.
And there was another funny thing. Somehow Tim talked us into allowing him to order a mocha-flavored dessert. Let me note to you now, sugar and caffeine in a 9-year-old boy is not a good idea. I know that now. He ate the dessert without much attention and fanfare, but that was not the end of it. Something got him giggling, and he laughed, and laughed, and wasn't stopping. Now don't dismiss that, it wasn't that he didn't want to stop. We kept dropping our conversation, remarking on Tim's giggling, starting up again, and then stopping again. Finally we realized he was doing something akin to hyperventilating, and he just couldn't stop. He was in pain. We didn't have a paper bag for him to breathe into, so we gave him a paper napkin to put over his face, holding it there and breathing through it. It worked. He stopped his giggling and for the rest of the night, he was sufficiently sober and sane. I don't think he slept well that night, though.
Well, months later...Katie was talking down at college to a group of students there, and the subject of our church change came up. For the moment she forgot that one of the students was a member of that family, and would definitely find it significant. So word got back to his family, and there it was, at least September or October, and finally this unintentional secret was out. Ha! Yes, I thought it was pretty amusing, at least once I concluded that they really hadn't known all that time.
The mother came to me later and told me that she had taken it personally that I hadn't told her. I told her how we were stymied as to how to bring it up, and she understood. I told her that if I'd known, I would have gone to her first thing and told her, and she would have gone, "Why are you telling me about it?" And she agreed that that, too, would have been the case. Sometimes you just can't satisfy a person, no matter how you do it.
Last August (nearly a year back) when we were dropping Katie off at her college in California, we met up with another family we know from our previous church, and had dinner with them at the Keg and Platter there. (Now, that previous church was then already our previous church as of May or June of that year.) We talked about a great many things, and were having a great time. But we as a family were not sure whether they as a family knew that we had left their church. It isn't an enormous church, just a few hundred there, but there are two services, and besides, this family had close family friends who were all excited about their daughter's engagement and I think it had them all distracted. We didn't know of any tactful way to broach the subject, and so we just didn't bring it up. What do you do, change the subject from all the various distractions at the college and say, "By the way, did you know that we left the church many months ago?" We didn't want them choking on their steak, after all. It really was fairly amusing, considering that we tend to be at church every Sunday--more faithfully than most of the pastors we've ever known--because we hardly travel, at all. Yes, now you wonder why I have so little to blog about? Yes. That may be it.
And there was another funny thing. Somehow Tim talked us into allowing him to order a mocha-flavored dessert. Let me note to you now, sugar and caffeine in a 9-year-old boy is not a good idea. I know that now. He ate the dessert without much attention and fanfare, but that was not the end of it. Something got him giggling, and he laughed, and laughed, and wasn't stopping. Now don't dismiss that, it wasn't that he didn't want to stop. We kept dropping our conversation, remarking on Tim's giggling, starting up again, and then stopping again. Finally we realized he was doing something akin to hyperventilating, and he just couldn't stop. He was in pain. We didn't have a paper bag for him to breathe into, so we gave him a paper napkin to put over his face, holding it there and breathing through it. It worked. He stopped his giggling and for the rest of the night, he was sufficiently sober and sane. I don't think he slept well that night, though.
Well, months later...Katie was talking down at college to a group of students there, and the subject of our church change came up. For the moment she forgot that one of the students was a member of that family, and would definitely find it significant. So word got back to his family, and there it was, at least September or October, and finally this unintentional secret was out. Ha! Yes, I thought it was pretty amusing, at least once I concluded that they really hadn't known all that time.
The mother came to me later and told me that she had taken it personally that I hadn't told her. I told her how we were stymied as to how to bring it up, and she understood. I told her that if I'd known, I would have gone to her first thing and told her, and she would have gone, "Why are you telling me about it?" And she agreed that that, too, would have been the case. Sometimes you just can't satisfy a person, no matter how you do it.
Friday, June 27, 2008
My Style is Random and Unpredictable, but it's More Interesting That Way
I've been trying to get a good deal of housekeeping done today. It's kind of fallen behind, partly because of all the other things we've been doing lately, and so it doesn't take reaching very far to find something that needs to be put away or cleaned or whatever. And I realize how random I am in the doing of it. It makes me laugh! I think of the linear, orderly types who do things so differently from my way, and I don't know how in the world I could fit into their mold. Somehow, though, I think it's far more efficient to do it this way, with tasks all within reach of each other, and able to be combined as I go.
You know what those orderly, non-random people are like. They know what they're having for dinner each day of the week because that's what they have every week. So they only have to buy ingredients for seven types of meals, and they only need one little cupboard in their kitchen to hold it. Monday is wash day, Tuesday is dusting day, Wednesday is window-washing day, Thursday is vacuuming day, etc. They have those little embroidered dish cloths that remind them, and they use one per day with the right task on it. I don't know how they narrow their tasks down to six or seven. (When did you ever see a kitchen towel embroidered with "Clean the Garage Day"?) I knew a gal like that who came to my house and criticized the fact that I made a pork chop dish with tomatoes and onion and all that added--she felt I went to way too much trouble. I went to her house. She was serving fish sticks, because that's what she always served that day; I think the tartar sauce was her vegetable. Her family was all far thinner than ours. I didn't envy her, except the enjoyment of such simplicity freeing her up to do so much--except that she wouldn't do all the things she was free to do, because it wouldn't be scheduled into her day.
My day goes quite differently. The morning is probably my most predictable part, in that I try to make sure to include a quiet time there right after making coffee. I might pour some cereal, too. By then it's a 50/50 chance that I've gotten a shower and dressed, but I'll do that if it's not done. But after that--the rest of the day is up for grabs! It depends a great deal on what others are doing--when the kids get up, whether I have to drive someone somewhere; if we're having Tim's friends over, or a family over for dinner, or we need groceries. Still, if all that's open, I might go about doing dishes and laundry and taking out some garbage--this is where it might get interesting. Take the bins away from the curb and see a weed, and in pulling it, notice a frisbee hidden in the ground cover. Go to throw the weed out and put the frisbee away and notice the vegetable garden that I didn't plant is filling with weeds--pull some more weeds, need aspirin, go in to get some, the phone rings. I think the phone rings on scheduled times only, for people who are orderly. Or else they only answer it between 7 and 8 p.m. or something. And when I'm on the phone, I spill something, and notice the floor needs sweeping. On the way to the broom I pick up 5 things to put away. Putting them away brings 10 more to my notice. I think I pick up about a billion things by the time the kids are up. If I need to call a business, I think about it at 5:04 p.m. If I need to call a person, I think of it at 9:09 p.m. when they might be off to bed. I guess it saves me phone time.
I wonder how an orderly person would do my life? They'd probably have a heart attack the first day and get it over with. If I had theirs, I'd reform it. Pretty soon, with all that spare time, I'd start cooking some new recipes, but have to go to the store for some interesting ingredients. Then I'd decide to sew something, and have to go to the fabric store, too--both in the same trip, to save gas. So that would fill my time. Of course, then I couldn't wait till Thursday (vacuuming day) to vacuum, because sewing is messy. That would throw my whole week off, because on Thursday, what would I do, since I vacuumed on Monday? I'd have to make Thursday washing day, like Monday had been--but there's only a few days accumulation. I guess I'll mix it--half laundry, half vacuuming. There goes the order. And that would be the beginning of the end. Life would have its familiar and friendly chaos, and I'd be far more comfortable.
You know what those orderly, non-random people are like. They know what they're having for dinner each day of the week because that's what they have every week. So they only have to buy ingredients for seven types of meals, and they only need one little cupboard in their kitchen to hold it. Monday is wash day, Tuesday is dusting day, Wednesday is window-washing day, Thursday is vacuuming day, etc. They have those little embroidered dish cloths that remind them, and they use one per day with the right task on it. I don't know how they narrow their tasks down to six or seven. (When did you ever see a kitchen towel embroidered with "Clean the Garage Day"?) I knew a gal like that who came to my house and criticized the fact that I made a pork chop dish with tomatoes and onion and all that added--she felt I went to way too much trouble. I went to her house. She was serving fish sticks, because that's what she always served that day; I think the tartar sauce was her vegetable. Her family was all far thinner than ours. I didn't envy her, except the enjoyment of such simplicity freeing her up to do so much--except that she wouldn't do all the things she was free to do, because it wouldn't be scheduled into her day.
My day goes quite differently. The morning is probably my most predictable part, in that I try to make sure to include a quiet time there right after making coffee. I might pour some cereal, too. By then it's a 50/50 chance that I've gotten a shower and dressed, but I'll do that if it's not done. But after that--the rest of the day is up for grabs! It depends a great deal on what others are doing--when the kids get up, whether I have to drive someone somewhere; if we're having Tim's friends over, or a family over for dinner, or we need groceries. Still, if all that's open, I might go about doing dishes and laundry and taking out some garbage--this is where it might get interesting. Take the bins away from the curb and see a weed, and in pulling it, notice a frisbee hidden in the ground cover. Go to throw the weed out and put the frisbee away and notice the vegetable garden that I didn't plant is filling with weeds--pull some more weeds, need aspirin, go in to get some, the phone rings. I think the phone rings on scheduled times only, for people who are orderly. Or else they only answer it between 7 and 8 p.m. or something. And when I'm on the phone, I spill something, and notice the floor needs sweeping. On the way to the broom I pick up 5 things to put away. Putting them away brings 10 more to my notice. I think I pick up about a billion things by the time the kids are up. If I need to call a business, I think about it at 5:04 p.m. If I need to call a person, I think of it at 9:09 p.m. when they might be off to bed. I guess it saves me phone time.
I wonder how an orderly person would do my life? They'd probably have a heart attack the first day and get it over with. If I had theirs, I'd reform it. Pretty soon, with all that spare time, I'd start cooking some new recipes, but have to go to the store for some interesting ingredients. Then I'd decide to sew something, and have to go to the fabric store, too--both in the same trip, to save gas. So that would fill my time. Of course, then I couldn't wait till Thursday (vacuuming day) to vacuum, because sewing is messy. That would throw my whole week off, because on Thursday, what would I do, since I vacuumed on Monday? I'd have to make Thursday washing day, like Monday had been--but there's only a few days accumulation. I guess I'll mix it--half laundry, half vacuuming. There goes the order. And that would be the beginning of the end. Life would have its familiar and friendly chaos, and I'd be far more comfortable.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
My Favorite Funny YouTube Videos
While we were at a dinner Tuesday for the family of our friend Lanae who just moved to Denver, the people there started sharing their favorite YouTube videos. Katie has a full arsenal of her own, having been at college where the students and professors eagerly share all the wisdom of the ages--don't they? Anyway, they do eagerly share YouTube videos, for starters. I wonder how they get the homework done...but that's another matter.
I was debating using each of these as individual blog entries, but it would take forever and I have other things to do. But since I want to participate in sharing the wisdom of the ages, or at least a little funny stuff, I will share the addresses for the funny ones that we've been shown rather than a separate blog for each. You might share yours with me, if you would, and we can all get nothing done while we watch these together...ha!
http://youtube.com/watch?v=UrsBuOuoPOc "I'm a Man"--takeoff on Mac vs. IBM--done by some students at Katie's college. Short and cute.
http://youtube.com/watch?v=FzRH3iTQPrk "Sneezing Panda"--very short, cute, and--not acted out--you could say this is real life!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lj3iNxZ8Dww&feature=related Dismality: "Miss Teen USA 2007 - South Carolina answers a question"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WcU4t6zRAKg "The Front Fell Off"--very funny!
http://www.youtube.com/user/rockthebox Some of Katie's fellow students choreographed this skit for the song "Uptown Girl." They did an amazing job! Gotta watch it to the end.
http://youtube.com/watch?v=_OBlgSz8sSM This is "Charlie bit my finger...again" --cutest kid video I know of on YouTube.
http://youtube.com/watch?v=3vWm47yPLGc&feature=related The BananaPhone song. Very catchy!
http://youtube.com/watch?v=1zScZx3Nb14&feature=related The Banana Phone song takeoff from the college.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jZkdcYlOn5M Bon Qui Qui at King Burger..."I will cut you" is my new phrase to answer someone who is out of line. Tried it on my Gary while our neighbors were over. Dean our neighbor just about lost it. I just called his wife to make sure it only meant what I thought before I put this on my blog--not something crude but just the meanness you might expect in the context. Whew!
These are the best of the funny YouTubes I know of. I hope you like them!
I was debating using each of these as individual blog entries, but it would take forever and I have other things to do. But since I want to participate in sharing the wisdom of the ages, or at least a little funny stuff, I will share the addresses for the funny ones that we've been shown rather than a separate blog for each. You might share yours with me, if you would, and we can all get nothing done while we watch these together...ha!
http://youtube.com/watch?v=UrsBuOuoPOc "I'm a Man"--takeoff on Mac vs. IBM--done by some students at Katie's college. Short and cute.
http://youtube.com/watch?v=FzRH3iTQPrk "Sneezing Panda"--very short, cute, and--not acted out--you could say this is real life!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lj3iNxZ8Dww&feature=related Dismality: "Miss Teen USA 2007 - South Carolina answers a question"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WcU4t6zRAKg "The Front Fell Off"--very funny!
http://www.youtube.com/user/rockthebox Some of Katie's fellow students choreographed this skit for the song "Uptown Girl." They did an amazing job! Gotta watch it to the end.
http://youtube.com/watch?v=_OBlgSz8sSM This is "Charlie bit my finger...again" --cutest kid video I know of on YouTube.
http://youtube.com/watch?v=3vWm47yPLGc&feature=related The BananaPhone song. Very catchy!
http://youtube.com/watch?v=1zScZx3Nb14&feature=related The Banana Phone song takeoff from the college.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jZkdcYlOn5M Bon Qui Qui at King Burger..."I will cut you" is my new phrase to answer someone who is out of line. Tried it on my Gary while our neighbors were over. Dean our neighbor just about lost it. I just called his wife to make sure it only meant what I thought before I put this on my blog--not something crude but just the meanness you might expect in the context. Whew!
These are the best of the funny YouTubes I know of. I hope you like them!
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
I Have Good News! They've Solved one of the Mysteries of the Universe!
Well, I have good news! Not long ago I blogged that there were certain mysteries of the universe that bothered me (in fact it was called "Unexplained Mysteries of the Universe"--fancy that!). Today I have seen a news report that they have solved one of those very great mysteries of the universe of which I blogged.
Katie showed me tonight on YouTube one of the videos done by one of her school friends, Luke Neuman. This video shows what happens to socks in the dryer. I hope you enjoy it and find relief just like I did! What a relief! (Now if he'd just solve the others that I listed.)
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
What to Wear vs. What Not to Wear
Katie likes to watch a show called "What Not to Wear." If you've seen it, you might agree that the hosts of it are rather harsh in the way they deal with victims--er--people. On the other hand, they're often right, and they usually pull a pretty amazing transformation over on people who at first resisted them every step of the way.
The premise is that someone nominates a friend to go on the show and have their wardrobe and "look" revised; then various video takes catch this person wearing the hideous garb that they have chosen for themselves. The person is caught off guard by the hosts, shown the videos, and offered a $5,000 charge card to buy new clothes if they will surrender their closet contents to be disposed of--and even if they agree to this, they usually protest the process of discarding the old clothes.
During the haircut or the makeup, their objective is often stated, and usually has to do with success in the "dating scene." After the process is done, complete with new haircut and makeup, the person comes out parading some new duds and usually is thankful. Often, reference is made to how much their self-image, their confidence is improved. I understand this; everyone likes new clothes, and especially an improvement in their looks, and all the more when it comes free of charge. Still...
I wonder about these people's self-image. Is it truly all tied up in their outer appearance? What about when the outer appearance ages a bit and becomes beyond the typical dating material? Is the external what it is all about, and then does the self-image deteriorate with the collagen? There is a way to make that change permanent, even eternal, and you don't have to give up your whole wardrobe (probably). You may not get a $5,000 charge card, but on the other hand, the changes that happen will be worth infinitely more!
Give not your old wardrobe, but your old outlook, your old sins, your bitternesses, your old way of looking at the source of life, the beginning of the world, the management of the universe...these are pretty primary...and put them in the caring and capable hands of God; let Him give you the makeover of your life. The transformation that you get will give you internal, permanent changes that will give you enough joy, peace, hope, and love that they'll diminish your frown wrinkles, put a twinkle in your eye and a bounce in your step, and you'll look better externally for it. Even when you're 90.
Now, on the other hand, if you want to give me a $5,000 charge card, a salon cut, and a makeover, I think I would give you all my clothes in the closet...
2 Corinthians 5:17-19 Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting men's sins against them. And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation.
The premise is that someone nominates a friend to go on the show and have their wardrobe and "look" revised; then various video takes catch this person wearing the hideous garb that they have chosen for themselves. The person is caught off guard by the hosts, shown the videos, and offered a $5,000 charge card to buy new clothes if they will surrender their closet contents to be disposed of--and even if they agree to this, they usually protest the process of discarding the old clothes.
During the haircut or the makeup, their objective is often stated, and usually has to do with success in the "dating scene." After the process is done, complete with new haircut and makeup, the person comes out parading some new duds and usually is thankful. Often, reference is made to how much their self-image, their confidence is improved. I understand this; everyone likes new clothes, and especially an improvement in their looks, and all the more when it comes free of charge. Still...
I wonder about these people's self-image. Is it truly all tied up in their outer appearance? What about when the outer appearance ages a bit and becomes beyond the typical dating material? Is the external what it is all about, and then does the self-image deteriorate with the collagen? There is a way to make that change permanent, even eternal, and you don't have to give up your whole wardrobe (probably). You may not get a $5,000 charge card, but on the other hand, the changes that happen will be worth infinitely more!
Give not your old wardrobe, but your old outlook, your old sins, your bitternesses, your old way of looking at the source of life, the beginning of the world, the management of the universe...these are pretty primary...and put them in the caring and capable hands of God; let Him give you the makeover of your life. The transformation that you get will give you internal, permanent changes that will give you enough joy, peace, hope, and love that they'll diminish your frown wrinkles, put a twinkle in your eye and a bounce in your step, and you'll look better externally for it. Even when you're 90.
Now, on the other hand, if you want to give me a $5,000 charge card, a salon cut, and a makeover, I think I would give you all my clothes in the closet...
2 Corinthians 5:17-19 Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting men's sins against them. And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Unexplained Mysteries of the Universe
I don't have to wrestle with the mysteries of the universe that so many wonder about, such as the meaning of life. Those types of things were solved when I received Christ as my Lord and Savior. Those things are solved and established and I don't have to worry about them. I wonder about universal mysteries such as the following:
1. Who tangles the cords of things that I neatly put in the drawer, so that it takes an hour to untangle them?
2. Why does my junk drawer lose the copies of all my useful keys, and acquire keys that I never had locks to match?
3. Where do I get all the plastic containers and tops that don't match?
4. Socks, too...who eats the socks? Why do they have to eat so many of them? Why can't they ever eat pairs of them? I know, I'm hardly the first that wondered this.
5. When a flock of birds lands on my lawn and hungrily attacks something in it, how do they know it's there? Do they see the grubs? Hear them? Smell them? Do the grubs send out ultrasonic vibrations? This has honestly puzzled me for a long time.
6. Why do some people not like the foods, colors, that I love? Are their taste buds and eye parts built differently from mine? Are their brains wired funny? The fault couldn't be with me...
7. Where does the time go? How is it that the presents that were new when we were married are now antiques? That's scary!
8. How did we end up being such collectors of useless stuff? I don't remember dragging all this home!
9. What made my body suddenly unable to do cartwheels, sleep on the floor or the ground, or stay up all night? It's not fair.
10. What is it about dirt piles, gravel, duct tape, and old tools that attracts males? And why do they love to destroy stuff?
11. Speaking of males, what is 10-year-old Tim up to? I'd better go find out...we do have about 8 mounds of "new" dirt in the park behind us...
1. Who tangles the cords of things that I neatly put in the drawer, so that it takes an hour to untangle them?
2. Why does my junk drawer lose the copies of all my useful keys, and acquire keys that I never had locks to match?
3. Where do I get all the plastic containers and tops that don't match?
4. Socks, too...who eats the socks? Why do they have to eat so many of them? Why can't they ever eat pairs of them? I know, I'm hardly the first that wondered this.
5. When a flock of birds lands on my lawn and hungrily attacks something in it, how do they know it's there? Do they see the grubs? Hear them? Smell them? Do the grubs send out ultrasonic vibrations? This has honestly puzzled me for a long time.
6. Why do some people not like the foods, colors, that I love? Are their taste buds and eye parts built differently from mine? Are their brains wired funny? The fault couldn't be with me...
7. Where does the time go? How is it that the presents that were new when we were married are now antiques? That's scary!
8. How did we end up being such collectors of useless stuff? I don't remember dragging all this home!
9. What made my body suddenly unable to do cartwheels, sleep on the floor or the ground, or stay up all night? It's not fair.
10. What is it about dirt piles, gravel, duct tape, and old tools that attracts males? And why do they love to destroy stuff?
11. Speaking of males, what is 10-year-old Tim up to? I'd better go find out...we do have about 8 mounds of "new" dirt in the park behind us...
Friday, May 30, 2008
I Hope You Drove Nice on Drive Nice Day!
I took Katie to the Department of Motor Vehicles today to renew her permit...and we saw this great poster. It's promoting a new holiday to which I am fairly confident most of the world is oblivious. I wonder whether most people noticed that on May 20th people were driving nice for a change? Because, after all, it was Drive Nice Day. I hope you celebrated it.
What if people thought that since May 20th is Drive Nice Day, that the other 364 days of the year, the inverse were true? It would be fairly reasonable to assume that if the days that aren't your birthday are your "unbirthday," then May 21-May 19 are "Drive Nasty Days." We'd better be careful, assigning one day to a virtuous behavior!
It reminds me of those roadside signs that say, "Don't Drink and Drive." Now, if those were really effective, I think they should also have signs that say, "Don't go over the speed limit." "Don't disobey the law." "Be nice to everyone." "Don't murder." Since this poster and this new holiday would indicate that the government thinks they're effective, I think I'll go into the sign-making business. (I'd be tempted to put in a few that say, "Give Connie Money" or "Mow Connie's Lawn"...subliminally printed around all the other lettering, of course.)
Think of the holidays, too! Our calendars could be just chock-full of them. "Did you know it's Don't Murder Day? I was going to murder you, but now I'm going to be nice to you, instead, to celebrate." Katie added, "It's that day tomorrow, too!"
Dreams and Visions
I don't normally remember my dreams. This morning when I woke up, I was thinking about one, though, and Tim asked me what I dreamt about. Funny when I usually can't tell him anything. It was a dream about angels. Two "men" who were angels (I don't know how I knew but I did) drove in in a convertible and asked where some family was, who didn't live on our cul-de-sac. I told them I thought they lived a couple of blocks away. Imagine angels needing to ask directions! Ha.
The next one was a cardboard angel that looked like it was made by a child; it was female (never mind that there are no female angels in the Bible), with blond hair, short, and wide, and had big eyes. She was made with sequins, and she talked, but I don't remember what she said. She was lying down in the middle of the cul-de-sac (remember, she was made of cardboard). Then two other female sequin-on-cardboard angels came along and hovered over the child-like one, and ooh'd and aah'd over how pretty she was. Pretty funny!
Perhaps I'm dreaming these dreams because I'm reading Daniel, and he has dreams and visions; Tim and I just read Revelation, too. Pretty spectacular books, I'd say! I think I prefer my silly cardboard-and-sequin angel dream to Daniel's visions of terrible beasts and whatnot. He was sick and exhausted after his; I'm feeling pretty well, thank you. Still, his gave him something worthwhile to share, and mine was meaningless (so far as I know--maybe I'll dream that Daniel will interpret it?). If that's all the response I came up with after reading these books, it would be pretty dismal. They are so rich with meaning and so mysterious in all their visions, though they also explain many aspects of them. Years ago when I was reading them I went over them with the help of various, but conflicting, resources, and ended up more confused than when I started. I don't intend to have this reading be my last--I want to go through it again with a study guide that I can trust. I don't think anyone will need a study guide to go with my dreams.
The next one was a cardboard angel that looked like it was made by a child; it was female (never mind that there are no female angels in the Bible), with blond hair, short, and wide, and had big eyes. She was made with sequins, and she talked, but I don't remember what she said. She was lying down in the middle of the cul-de-sac (remember, she was made of cardboard). Then two other female sequin-on-cardboard angels came along and hovered over the child-like one, and ooh'd and aah'd over how pretty she was. Pretty funny!
Perhaps I'm dreaming these dreams because I'm reading Daniel, and he has dreams and visions; Tim and I just read Revelation, too. Pretty spectacular books, I'd say! I think I prefer my silly cardboard-and-sequin angel dream to Daniel's visions of terrible beasts and whatnot. He was sick and exhausted after his; I'm feeling pretty well, thank you. Still, his gave him something worthwhile to share, and mine was meaningless (so far as I know--maybe I'll dream that Daniel will interpret it?). If that's all the response I came up with after reading these books, it would be pretty dismal. They are so rich with meaning and so mysterious in all their visions, though they also explain many aspects of them. Years ago when I was reading them I went over them with the help of various, but conflicting, resources, and ended up more confused than when I started. I don't intend to have this reading be my last--I want to go through it again with a study guide that I can trust. I don't think anyone will need a study guide to go with my dreams.
Saturday, March 01, 2008
If I Were Paul's English Teacher
In general I would never think that I could teach Paul a thing, let alone two...but since in fact he didn't speak English, I guess I could presume to teach him something there, though I don't profess to know English as officially as a certified English teacher. Often in reading his writings, I think back to school days and the red notations that would come back on my papers, and I dream of how I would dare to "correct" Paul, whose manner of writing would appall (forgive the awful nature of using this word here) his teachers...if he had the same teachers I had. I am in fact thankful he did not. Still, it's a little fun to poke a little fun...at Paul. And of course, I'm probably making mistakes or messing up the proper terminology, but it gives an idea of what I would expect to come back at me if I'd submitted this writing at school. For your benefit, I've toned it down from the crimson red to a rustier color, because the red was really overwhelming, as probably most school kids find it to be as well.
Since we are studying Ephesians at church, and I have been reading it to such a point of familiarity, I most readily draw examples from this short and wonderful book. Now, Paul has the advantage over me hands-down in that I know no Greek, the language of New Testament writings. Okay, so here we go, in Ephesians 1:10: "Paul, expand on this 'all things.' You use it various times in this letter, and yet you don't clarify what you mean. This is too general." I gather that in Ephesians Chapter 1:3-14 exists the longest sentence in the Bible, at least in the Greek (it got translated out in the English). I have to admit I'd have never known this if I wasn't told; I guess in reality a teacher reading the English wouldn't take such issue when it's hidden in the original language, but we'll pretend for this one that she--er, I--correct this important gaffe since it is very prevalent in his writings. "Paul, you have a bad habit of using run-on sentences, as you have done here. No one wants to read these; they get confusing. Please separate this into at least 7 smaller, more manageable sentences, and do this to all the many remaining run-on sentences in your work." Chapter 2:1: "Many of your sentences start with the word 'and', 'therefore,' 'for,' 'but,' 'so.' Please don't start a sentence with a conjunction. Also, if you are going to use 'according to' at the start of two of the segments, use it for all three since it applies to all of them; be consistent!" At 3:1: "You didn't finish this sentence. You got so excited about your subject that you digressed. Please finish the thought before you go on--and you wrote about something in brief? Where?" At 3:4: "You tell your readers to refer to another place where you have written, and yet you leave no footnote reference telling your readers where they can find this. This can only frustrate and mystify your readers." And at the end: "Paul, this has some high and weighty content in it, but your writing just doesn't do it justice. I'm afraid you're going to have to repeat this class if you hope to make a mark in the world."
I think you get my drift. If you are in high school and find that you have a lot of red marks on your writings, take heart. It may be the sign of good things to come, and I suspect God will be able to use you well as you submit to His teachings...at least as well as you submit to those of your school teachers.
When we read the book of Ephesians together, my son Tim always stops us when we reach "But God..." and because our pastor was using this as something of an emphasis in his sermon series, he says, "As Pastor Ken would say, 'But God...' " in a dramatic fashion, and he chuckles a little bit, and we go on. Then when we read how Paul has written briefly, he chuckles again and says, "As Pastor Ken would say, 'In brief? Ha!'" So I have to admit that I didn't think up that "in brief" part on my own. I do enjoy my son's little fun-making aspect, and when it's my turn to read, I have learned to pause at those points and just let him do his little thing.
Since we are studying Ephesians at church, and I have been reading it to such a point of familiarity, I most readily draw examples from this short and wonderful book. Now, Paul has the advantage over me hands-down in that I know no Greek, the language of New Testament writings. Okay, so here we go, in Ephesians 1:10: "Paul, expand on this 'all things.' You use it various times in this letter, and yet you don't clarify what you mean. This is too general." I gather that in Ephesians Chapter 1:3-14 exists the longest sentence in the Bible, at least in the Greek (it got translated out in the English). I have to admit I'd have never known this if I wasn't told; I guess in reality a teacher reading the English wouldn't take such issue when it's hidden in the original language, but we'll pretend for this one that she--er, I--correct this important gaffe since it is very prevalent in his writings. "Paul, you have a bad habit of using run-on sentences, as you have done here. No one wants to read these; they get confusing. Please separate this into at least 7 smaller, more manageable sentences, and do this to all the many remaining run-on sentences in your work." Chapter 2:1: "Many of your sentences start with the word 'and', 'therefore,' 'for,' 'but,' 'so.' Please don't start a sentence with a conjunction. Also, if you are going to use 'according to' at the start of two of the segments, use it for all three since it applies to all of them; be consistent!" At 3:1: "You didn't finish this sentence. You got so excited about your subject that you digressed. Please finish the thought before you go on--and you wrote about something in brief? Where?" At 3:4: "You tell your readers to refer to another place where you have written, and yet you leave no footnote reference telling your readers where they can find this. This can only frustrate and mystify your readers." And at the end: "Paul, this has some high and weighty content in it, but your writing just doesn't do it justice. I'm afraid you're going to have to repeat this class if you hope to make a mark in the world."
I think you get my drift. If you are in high school and find that you have a lot of red marks on your writings, take heart. It may be the sign of good things to come, and I suspect God will be able to use you well as you submit to His teachings...at least as well as you submit to those of your school teachers.
When we read the book of Ephesians together, my son Tim always stops us when we reach "But God..." and because our pastor was using this as something of an emphasis in his sermon series, he says, "As Pastor Ken would say, 'But God...' " in a dramatic fashion, and he chuckles a little bit, and we go on. Then when we read how Paul has written briefly, he chuckles again and says, "As Pastor Ken would say, 'In brief? Ha!'" So I have to admit that I didn't think up that "in brief" part on my own. I do enjoy my son's little fun-making aspect, and when it's my turn to read, I have learned to pause at those points and just let him do his little thing.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Air-Soft Pellet Guns, BB-Guns and a Shocking Pastor
On the way home from our Ephesians study, Tim was talking about air-soft pellet guns, because they are his latest obsession, especially considering that he has a birthday looming and he also just received an appallingly extravagant $20 for having taken care of a neighbor dog for one day. Our neighbor boys have for years been obsessed with playing air-soft gun wars to the point that there's hardly a square foot of our yard that I can imagine is free of 10 or 20 of these pellets. Tim has been finding that many of his friends have the guns, and whether he has one seems to be the first question he's asked by them when he visits. I have come to use as my main argument, much to Tim's chagrined exasperation, "You'll shoot your eye out with it." This is a bit of education I received from a movie lent to us, "The Christmas Story," a silly movie where this is a mother's everlasting response to the kid's desire for a bb-gun.
Tim was commenting on how much weaker air-soft pellet guns are than bb-guns, and how boys can be hurt pretty badly by bbs. In response I said, "The only person I ever knew to have shot anyone was a pastor." The pastor at a church we attended about 10 years ago had told as some sermon illustration how as a kid he had shot his neighbor girl in the stomach using a bb-gun. I neglected to tell Tim all the details that we had been given, but I told him that the pastor had shot the girl in the stomach with a bb-gun. "Why did he do that?" Tim asked. I said, "Well, maybe the girl was a little like (insert name of a neighbor girl who, true to her character, at one time has hit Tim with a baseball bat)." This made perfect sense to Tim. "Did the neighbors sue him?" I said I didn't think so, but they weren't very happy with him. Tim sounded more and more incredulous as the story progressed. "Did you know him when he did it?" I had to laugh. "Oh, no, he was a kid when it happened." One small missing detail that made all the difference...
Tim was commenting on how much weaker air-soft pellet guns are than bb-guns, and how boys can be hurt pretty badly by bbs. In response I said, "The only person I ever knew to have shot anyone was a pastor." The pastor at a church we attended about 10 years ago had told as some sermon illustration how as a kid he had shot his neighbor girl in the stomach using a bb-gun. I neglected to tell Tim all the details that we had been given, but I told him that the pastor had shot the girl in the stomach with a bb-gun. "Why did he do that?" Tim asked. I said, "Well, maybe the girl was a little like (insert name of a neighbor girl who, true to her character, at one time has hit Tim with a baseball bat)." This made perfect sense to Tim. "Did the neighbors sue him?" I said I didn't think so, but they weren't very happy with him. Tim sounded more and more incredulous as the story progressed. "Did you know him when he did it?" I had to laugh. "Oh, no, he was a kid when it happened." One small missing detail that made all the difference...
Sunday, September 09, 2007
A New Link on my Blog for your Enjoyment
Okay, another blog. I got distracted and started updating my links. So in the process I went and explored who others were linking and since Katie links Get Fuzzy, it brought me back to the days when she was here and we would laugh together over that comic strip. I relate rather strongly to the dog in the strip, my good friend Satchel--I rather think I look like him, and that I also think somewhat like him too. I almost think we would fit in the same clothes--sigh. (One thing I have to take exception to, and that is that I gather he's a Democrat...and I most certainly am not, and without apology. There may be more travesties; I haven't been reading it for a while.)
I'm not sure who the corresponding cat would be, except maybe Tim on his more mischievous days or even rather malicious moments...still, I'm thankful he's Tim and not Bucky. He does bear resemblance to Bucky in more than one way, however, and I'll leave that for you to explore.
Who would the man be? I'm not sure. Gary doesn't usually interfere in these moments of conflict. I'm not sure either where Katie belongs in all this. Maybe I'd better explore some more comic strips, and we can morph them.
So now you know how to get to Get Fuzzy online. Enjoy! (And don't you see the resemblance? Katie doesn't express disagreement on this one. Sigh.)
I'm not sure who the corresponding cat would be, except maybe Tim on his more mischievous days or even rather malicious moments...still, I'm thankful he's Tim and not Bucky. He does bear resemblance to Bucky in more than one way, however, and I'll leave that for you to explore.
Who would the man be? I'm not sure. Gary doesn't usually interfere in these moments of conflict. I'm not sure either where Katie belongs in all this. Maybe I'd better explore some more comic strips, and we can morph them.
So now you know how to get to Get Fuzzy online. Enjoy! (And don't you see the resemblance? Katie doesn't express disagreement on this one. Sigh.)
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Here we go again....seven the second.
Okay. I guess the 7 things are supposed to be embarrassing or odd, per Katie. (Sigh.) So here we go:
1. Once we went to walk at the Everett Marina. It's a nice place for a walk, and we often went either midday or quite late at night. Either time, there were usually very few other people. That appeared to be true this particular time. Katie and I had to go to the ladies' room, and as we do often-times at home, we started singing some silly song (not taking ourselves seriously in the slightest). The longer we washed our hands the sillier and louder our voices got. When we finally walked out, there was a man just outside the door who we hadn't seen when we went in. He had an amused look on his face and complimented us on our fine singing.
2. When Gary and I were engaged to be married, a friend came over to my mom's house and gave me a wedding gift. My mom started talking about how the one thing I didn't need was an electric can opener, how they were a waste of counter space and how all a person needs to do is use a little elbow grease. She went on quite a while on that topic. You got it. I opened the gift and of course, it was one thing I didn't have. An electric can opener.
3. In our previous church, it was Pastor Appreciation Month (October). S&W had been playing their advertisements where a person would win a prize or earn a bonus, to find that the prize or bonus was a can of S&W peaches or other fruit. They were always incredibly pleased. So for Pastor Appreciation Month I packed up a couple of cans of S&W Peaches in gift wrap and gave them to someone to give anonymously to the pastors during church. They did so, and when the pastors opened them with great anticipation, a look of great bewilderment spread across their faces. When the congregation and the choir saw it, everyone broke out in laughter--except the pastors. Turned out they hadn't seen the ads.
4. When I was a patient in the hospital, I had dozed off, and Gary and Katie were in the room. I suddenly woke up to the sound of my own snoring, but I didn't open my eyes. The nurse said as she walked in, "Does she always snore like that?" I said, "Sometimes," and opened my eyes to see the nurse give a startled jump.
5. When we were in Everett, a little girl about 12 years old lived across the street, and she'd acquired a bit of a love-interest of sorts. To get away with his phone calls, she tried having him call her while she was at our house. When she got her first such call and then got called home for dinner shortly afterward, the phone rang again and I answered it. I thought I'd scare the kid off, so I snapped a cranky "Hello!" when I answered it. Only thing was, it wasn't the kid. It was the sweetest, meekest elder of the church we were attending at the time (same church as in #2). Boy, I had a hard time explaining my way out of that one. I'm still not sure I convinced him.
6. When I was about 3 or 4, there was a teenage boy across the street. I don't remember having a crush on him, but I liked him and considered him my friend. I think he taught me this little ditty, or else I made it up. It was a little song that went, "I am the queen of super duper Dean." I used to sing it all the time, and barely remember that it had that significance. But in recent years I mentioned it separately to my mom and my brother. They both got looks on their faces like a long-lost puzzle piece had been put into place, one they didn't even know was missing. I don't think either of them had really listened to the song and realized it had to do with the boy across the street, but they'd remembered it; both recognized my little song immediately. By the way, I don't still go around singing it. Not even on my silly song days (See number 1).
7. Okay, I even thought of the seventh thing. You know how I said we sing silly things at home sometimes? (See number 1.) Well, one day we were having our share of singing silly things. It was hot weather, and so I opened the windows, not remembering that maybe we should keep our silly singing down to a minimum. I also had one or two incidents where I had to get on Tim's case about something or another. Well, the next time we went out, we realized our pastor's son had quietly left an item that his mother had borrowed from Katie on the chair outside our door. We hadn't heard the doorbell ring. We had to wonder. Did he hear our singing? Did he hear my grousing at Tim? Or was it just because he didn't want to be seen handing Katie a razor? I hope the world will never know.
Does that help? Now you know...the rest of the story. And the same thing goes--having read this, you are IT! Again.
1. Once we went to walk at the Everett Marina. It's a nice place for a walk, and we often went either midday or quite late at night. Either time, there were usually very few other people. That appeared to be true this particular time. Katie and I had to go to the ladies' room, and as we do often-times at home, we started singing some silly song (not taking ourselves seriously in the slightest). The longer we washed our hands the sillier and louder our voices got. When we finally walked out, there was a man just outside the door who we hadn't seen when we went in. He had an amused look on his face and complimented us on our fine singing.
2. When Gary and I were engaged to be married, a friend came over to my mom's house and gave me a wedding gift. My mom started talking about how the one thing I didn't need was an electric can opener, how they were a waste of counter space and how all a person needs to do is use a little elbow grease. She went on quite a while on that topic. You got it. I opened the gift and of course, it was one thing I didn't have. An electric can opener.
3. In our previous church, it was Pastor Appreciation Month (October). S&W had been playing their advertisements where a person would win a prize or earn a bonus, to find that the prize or bonus was a can of S&W peaches or other fruit. They were always incredibly pleased. So for Pastor Appreciation Month I packed up a couple of cans of S&W Peaches in gift wrap and gave them to someone to give anonymously to the pastors during church. They did so, and when the pastors opened them with great anticipation, a look of great bewilderment spread across their faces. When the congregation and the choir saw it, everyone broke out in laughter--except the pastors. Turned out they hadn't seen the ads.
4. When I was a patient in the hospital, I had dozed off, and Gary and Katie were in the room. I suddenly woke up to the sound of my own snoring, but I didn't open my eyes. The nurse said as she walked in, "Does she always snore like that?" I said, "Sometimes," and opened my eyes to see the nurse give a startled jump.
5. When we were in Everett, a little girl about 12 years old lived across the street, and she'd acquired a bit of a love-interest of sorts. To get away with his phone calls, she tried having him call her while she was at our house. When she got her first such call and then got called home for dinner shortly afterward, the phone rang again and I answered it. I thought I'd scare the kid off, so I snapped a cranky "Hello!" when I answered it. Only thing was, it wasn't the kid. It was the sweetest, meekest elder of the church we were attending at the time (same church as in #2). Boy, I had a hard time explaining my way out of that one. I'm still not sure I convinced him.
6. When I was about 3 or 4, there was a teenage boy across the street. I don't remember having a crush on him, but I liked him and considered him my friend. I think he taught me this little ditty, or else I made it up. It was a little song that went, "I am the queen of super duper Dean." I used to sing it all the time, and barely remember that it had that significance. But in recent years I mentioned it separately to my mom and my brother. They both got looks on their faces like a long-lost puzzle piece had been put into place, one they didn't even know was missing. I don't think either of them had really listened to the song and realized it had to do with the boy across the street, but they'd remembered it; both recognized my little song immediately. By the way, I don't still go around singing it. Not even on my silly song days (See number 1).
7. Okay, I even thought of the seventh thing. You know how I said we sing silly things at home sometimes? (See number 1.) Well, one day we were having our share of singing silly things. It was hot weather, and so I opened the windows, not remembering that maybe we should keep our silly singing down to a minimum. I also had one or two incidents where I had to get on Tim's case about something or another. Well, the next time we went out, we realized our pastor's son had quietly left an item that his mother had borrowed from Katie on the chair outside our door. We hadn't heard the doorbell ring. We had to wonder. Did he hear our singing? Did he hear my grousing at Tim? Or was it just because he didn't want to be seen handing Katie a razor? I hope the world will never know.
Does that help? Now you know...the rest of the story. And the same thing goes--having read this, you are IT! Again.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Seven True Things about...me...
Well, I've never had this happen to me before in the blogosphere--I've been "tagged" by our friend JenM. I must now tell you seven true things about me. So here goes!
1. Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so. I found this out when I was 29. Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift! 2 Cor. 9:15
2. I've been a wife to Gary for 24 years, a mother to Katie for 19 years, and a mother to Tim for 9 years. I am a stay-at-home, homeschooling mom and I wouldn't prefer to be doing anything else anywhere else on earth except with them, until God should call me to do so.
3. My first memory is of falling off a horse when I was two. I wasn't herding cattle or anything like that; the horse was standing in one place, my cousin had put me up there, and my dad caught me. I thought it was an imaginary memory until I asked my mom, but strangely enough she remembered it too. I've never been crazy about horses since then.
4. I love to garden; this is the most exciting source of self-inflicted pain and work and agony that I have been able to do with any particular success and happiness, except of course raising children (I mean that in the best sense, you know). In fact right now all my muscles and many of my joints hurt from it. We've been planting and establishing a vegetable garden in our back yard where there used to be a play area, about 20 x 30 feet. We have planted the seeds or home-started plants of tomatoes, peas, squash and pumpkins, romaine lettuce, bibb lettuce, corn, basil, parsley, mustard greens, beets, red chard, nasturtiums, broccoli, cabbage, cilantro, turnip greens, and green beans. So exciting! This time of year finds me carrying pots, seedling trays, seed pouches, watering cans, fertilizer and hoses up and down between the deck and the garden; hoeing, digging, amending the soil with homemade compost and "compost tea", weeding (about one full yard waste container full), planting, staking, and then stretching across various furrows and supporting myself mostly on the fingers of one hand so I don't trample plants while weeding. I almost turned myself on my head by doing so today. There are many rewards in gardening: It brings to mind a little poem that may be theologically incorrect but it might have an element of truth: "The kiss of the sun for pardon, the song of the birds for mirth; one is nearer God's heart in a garden than anywhere else on earth." Can't help but ponder it at least. The birds were singing, the sun was shining, a gentle breeze was blowing, and little shoots were sprouting up everywhere! Including weeds...sigh.
I don't know if it's as exciting to those to whom I show it off as it is to me. I know the hours invested in getting all these barely visible 2-3" plants to be there, and how clever I felt when I anchored a teepee shaped bean support into the ground for Tim's enjoyment.
I also believe that gardeners can get away with muttering to themselves, dressing funny, and wearing floppy hats, and that having muddy shoes on their welcome mat, and leaving pots, hoses and tools strewn about is a charming aspect of it all, so it fits me perfectly. And I have read that it is actually a good form of exercise. I believe it.
5. I love babies. And little kids. They're fun and funny and soft and transparent and messy and I wish I had their energy and more of their wonder, and in some ways that I could go back to knowing about as little as they know about the world around them. I also wish that my pudgy legs and shocking comments were as charming as theirs. But I'm glad I'm not growing up in their generation. (Funny, I used to hear old people say that to me, when I was little...)
6. I am in shape. (Round is a shape.) If you've seen me you already know this is true. God loves me anyway. Isn't He kind!?
7. I like words, I like to spell and I love spelling games such as Scrabble and Take One; misspellings and bad grammar make me twitch (but I'm getting better about it), I love to read if and when I have time, and I'm falling in love with the Book of Romans. If you haven't read it, you should...over and over and over again!
So there are seven things. Make me stop! There are lots of more fascinating topics. So what about you? What seven things are true about you that you can tell everyone? Your turn. Tag! You're IT!
1. Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so. I found this out when I was 29. Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift! 2 Cor. 9:15
2. I've been a wife to Gary for 24 years, a mother to Katie for 19 years, and a mother to Tim for 9 years. I am a stay-at-home, homeschooling mom and I wouldn't prefer to be doing anything else anywhere else on earth except with them, until God should call me to do so.
3. My first memory is of falling off a horse when I was two. I wasn't herding cattle or anything like that; the horse was standing in one place, my cousin had put me up there, and my dad caught me. I thought it was an imaginary memory until I asked my mom, but strangely enough she remembered it too. I've never been crazy about horses since then.
4. I love to garden; this is the most exciting source of self-inflicted pain and work and agony that I have been able to do with any particular success and happiness, except of course raising children (I mean that in the best sense, you know). In fact right now all my muscles and many of my joints hurt from it. We've been planting and establishing a vegetable garden in our back yard where there used to be a play area, about 20 x 30 feet. We have planted the seeds or home-started plants of tomatoes, peas, squash and pumpkins, romaine lettuce, bibb lettuce, corn, basil, parsley, mustard greens, beets, red chard, nasturtiums, broccoli, cabbage, cilantro, turnip greens, and green beans. So exciting! This time of year finds me carrying pots, seedling trays, seed pouches, watering cans, fertilizer and hoses up and down between the deck and the garden; hoeing, digging, amending the soil with homemade compost and "compost tea", weeding (about one full yard waste container full), planting, staking, and then stretching across various furrows and supporting myself mostly on the fingers of one hand so I don't trample plants while weeding. I almost turned myself on my head by doing so today. There are many rewards in gardening: It brings to mind a little poem that may be theologically incorrect but it might have an element of truth: "The kiss of the sun for pardon, the song of the birds for mirth; one is nearer God's heart in a garden than anywhere else on earth." Can't help but ponder it at least. The birds were singing, the sun was shining, a gentle breeze was blowing, and little shoots were sprouting up everywhere! Including weeds...sigh.
I don't know if it's as exciting to those to whom I show it off as it is to me. I know the hours invested in getting all these barely visible 2-3" plants to be there, and how clever I felt when I anchored a teepee shaped bean support into the ground for Tim's enjoyment.
I also believe that gardeners can get away with muttering to themselves, dressing funny, and wearing floppy hats, and that having muddy shoes on their welcome mat, and leaving pots, hoses and tools strewn about is a charming aspect of it all, so it fits me perfectly. And I have read that it is actually a good form of exercise. I believe it.
5. I love babies. And little kids. They're fun and funny and soft and transparent and messy and I wish I had their energy and more of their wonder, and in some ways that I could go back to knowing about as little as they know about the world around them. I also wish that my pudgy legs and shocking comments were as charming as theirs. But I'm glad I'm not growing up in their generation. (Funny, I used to hear old people say that to me, when I was little...)
6. I am in shape. (Round is a shape.) If you've seen me you already know this is true. God loves me anyway. Isn't He kind!?
7. I like words, I like to spell and I love spelling games such as Scrabble and Take One; misspellings and bad grammar make me twitch (but I'm getting better about it), I love to read if and when I have time, and I'm falling in love with the Book of Romans. If you haven't read it, you should...over and over and over again!
So there are seven things. Make me stop! There are lots of more fascinating topics. So what about you? What seven things are true about you that you can tell everyone? Your turn. Tag! You're IT!
Thursday, July 27, 2006
As the hermit crab world turns
Perhaps you know that Tim has three hermit crabs. The first was Sandy Claws, who was given to him as a Christmas present by our neighbors Dean and Stacia. The second one, Hermie Claws, he bought for himself. The third, Dean and Stacia gave to him after they got sick of his hermit crab ways--he was Crabby Cakes, but after being adopted became Crabby Claws. Appropriately so, I might add.
They've added some adventure to our at-home lives. Crabby tends to break out of their bin where we put them for an opportunity for exercise. It's big but the walls are barely too short to stay assured of their incarceration. Any of them who break loose tend to go while under observation straight to Tim's shoes, among all the family shoes that are lined up on the stairs. Crabby has escaped without our immediate notice three times. Twice, he reappeared in the dirty clothes of the laundry room after two weeks of being AWOL. I'd vacuumed in there a few days ago, and yesterday he showed up, walking along minding his own business. I picked him up and he immediately pinched me hard--and when I'd try pulling him away, he pinched harder. I was wrestling to get him off in my pain, and he wasn't letting go. About 3 minutes later he finally released me when I lightly whacked his shell. I gave him to Tim, who wisely held him by the shell and not under the claws.
Today, I looked in their cage and there was Sandy, out of his snail shell, looking a little embarrassed at being found naked. (Whenever they've changed shells before, they modestly waited until no human was watching.) I called to Tim so he could take a look. (It's only a hermit crab, after all! Ha!) We picked up one of the two little huts in the cage, and found what appeared to be the remains of a crab. We were alarmed, thinking that Sandy had eaten one of the other crabs. But when we looked in their shells, they were occupied. I suddenly realized that Sandy had molted and was waiting for his new shell to dry before taking on a snail shell again. The empty hull was not a dead crab but an empty shell. Tim had run into the bathroom in his horror, but now came out to investigate the new thought and to play with the macabre-looking parts; within a few minutes, Sandy found another, larger snail shell and took up residence. It was an interesting lesson in marine biology and a greater understanding of the life processes of his pets. Also a relief; funny how you can come to value the lives of some silly little crustaceans. I suppose if they weren't so cute I wouldn't have even been interested to look in on them.
They've added some adventure to our at-home lives. Crabby tends to break out of their bin where we put them for an opportunity for exercise. It's big but the walls are barely too short to stay assured of their incarceration. Any of them who break loose tend to go while under observation straight to Tim's shoes, among all the family shoes that are lined up on the stairs. Crabby has escaped without our immediate notice three times. Twice, he reappeared in the dirty clothes of the laundry room after two weeks of being AWOL. I'd vacuumed in there a few days ago, and yesterday he showed up, walking along minding his own business. I picked him up and he immediately pinched me hard--and when I'd try pulling him away, he pinched harder. I was wrestling to get him off in my pain, and he wasn't letting go. About 3 minutes later he finally released me when I lightly whacked his shell. I gave him to Tim, who wisely held him by the shell and not under the claws.
Today, I looked in their cage and there was Sandy, out of his snail shell, looking a little embarrassed at being found naked. (Whenever they've changed shells before, they modestly waited until no human was watching.) I called to Tim so he could take a look. (It's only a hermit crab, after all! Ha!) We picked up one of the two little huts in the cage, and found what appeared to be the remains of a crab. We were alarmed, thinking that Sandy had eaten one of the other crabs. But when we looked in their shells, they were occupied. I suddenly realized that Sandy had molted and was waiting for his new shell to dry before taking on a snail shell again. The empty hull was not a dead crab but an empty shell. Tim had run into the bathroom in his horror, but now came out to investigate the new thought and to play with the macabre-looking parts; within a few minutes, Sandy found another, larger snail shell and took up residence. It was an interesting lesson in marine biology and a greater understanding of the life processes of his pets. Also a relief; funny how you can come to value the lives of some silly little crustaceans. I suppose if they weren't so cute I wouldn't have even been interested to look in on them.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
A Cooler and Quirky Sleep Time
Yesterday we went to the Fourth of July celebration at the Greens'. We had a lot of things in the van and when we got home late at night, we forgot to bring the cooler into the house. This morning I got up at 7 and cleaned up a bunch of things around the house before I settled down to work on my Excellent Wife Bible study. (I always do this--getting the dishwasher, washer and dryer going helps me feel like even while I sit, things are getting done. I call it getting my "servants" working.) Well, I actually was busy a couple of hours before the study, because first, a neighbor wanted my help sweeping the fireworks rubble from the street, and then the worker came to work on the house siding and I had various things to prepare for his work.
So there I was working on my study finally, and Gary arrived on the scene from his night's sleep. He was still in his pajamas. A couple of times in the midst of conversation he commented how the cooler was still in the van and we should bring it in. Then while he was sitting at the computer, still in those pajamas, he brought it up again. I started to think that maybe the "we" of "we should bring it in" was the same type of "we" that he meant when he said we were winning or losing when he watched a football game on tv. I was getting a little testy with the repeated comment while I was trying to concentrate on my study, so I looked up, and said with a...well, maybe a whine..."Gary..." I looked down at my study, and then had to smile. It was the chapter on "Submission: The Wife's Joy." I looked up at him again, and said with a laugh, "Sorry, Gary, I can't do it. I'm too busy with my Bible study on Submission!"
Here's a funny anecdote not too closely related to this story, but I think it's worth sharing. Later on today, he was telling a neighbor that last night we were up until 2:30 this morning. Hmmm. That didn't make much sense to me. I looked at Katie. She looked confused as well. It seemed to us that we were up until 12:30, late enough but not that late. As we figured it out, we realized that though we were all tired enough to feel as if it were that late, it was indeed only 12:30 and the reason he thought it was 2:30 was because there was something in front of the 1 on the clock in our room. Since it was dark, all he saw were the remaining three digits, and assumed that it was 2:30. I'm glad. We all needed the sleep!
So there I was working on my study finally, and Gary arrived on the scene from his night's sleep. He was still in his pajamas. A couple of times in the midst of conversation he commented how the cooler was still in the van and we should bring it in. Then while he was sitting at the computer, still in those pajamas, he brought it up again. I started to think that maybe the "we" of "we should bring it in" was the same type of "we" that he meant when he said we were winning or losing when he watched a football game on tv. I was getting a little testy with the repeated comment while I was trying to concentrate on my study, so I looked up, and said with a...well, maybe a whine..."Gary..." I looked down at my study, and then had to smile. It was the chapter on "Submission: The Wife's Joy." I looked up at him again, and said with a laugh, "Sorry, Gary, I can't do it. I'm too busy with my Bible study on Submission!"
Here's a funny anecdote not too closely related to this story, but I think it's worth sharing. Later on today, he was telling a neighbor that last night we were up until 2:30 this morning. Hmmm. That didn't make much sense to me. I looked at Katie. She looked confused as well. It seemed to us that we were up until 12:30, late enough but not that late. As we figured it out, we realized that though we were all tired enough to feel as if it were that late, it was indeed only 12:30 and the reason he thought it was 2:30 was because there was something in front of the 1 on the clock in our room. Since it was dark, all he saw were the remaining three digits, and assumed that it was 2:30. I'm glad. We all needed the sleep!
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Boys and Underarms
Today we stopped in to a Grocery Outlet store to see what serendipitous finds were there for us. Tim stated on the way in that he wanted to buy some hair gel; he's been asking for it off and on for a while. Going through that area searching for his little vanity-pleaser, Tim noted that perhaps he would also benefit from having deodorant. Well, Tim of course associates this with the rite of passage of "growing up," and therefore it sounds good to him; we thought it was a great idea--anything that smells good on Tim is a good thing.
When we got home, first thing he looked for (other than a candy bar that he had to reserve for after lunch) was his hair gel. He went in and came out looking very spruced up. Which is strange because I positively love his hair in its natural state if it's clean...he has a great cowlick that runs the whole width of his forehead so his bangs fly straight up like the look so many guys goop up to get. Without goop in it, his hair has a great soft, thick texture and I can't imagine goop seeming like an improvement.
Next thing he came out into the kitchen with his deodorant applied, and lifted up his shirt to display the not-visibly-changed look of his underarms. With a sigh he said that he couldn't wait for his armpits to grow hair. I loved how unabashed he was!
That reminds me of when my younger brother was hitting that age and lifted his arms up for some reason out on our deck, and I noticed a couple of hairs there. I commented in surprise, and he looked startled at me but said nothing. Next thing I knew, I went into the house, and happened to pass by his open bedroom. As I looked in I was amused to see him standing in front of the mirror with his arms up in the air. He was not happy at my amusement, but it was a memorable moment.
When we got home, first thing he looked for (other than a candy bar that he had to reserve for after lunch) was his hair gel. He went in and came out looking very spruced up. Which is strange because I positively love his hair in its natural state if it's clean...he has a great cowlick that runs the whole width of his forehead so his bangs fly straight up like the look so many guys goop up to get. Without goop in it, his hair has a great soft, thick texture and I can't imagine goop seeming like an improvement.
Next thing he came out into the kitchen with his deodorant applied, and lifted up his shirt to display the not-visibly-changed look of his underarms. With a sigh he said that he couldn't wait for his armpits to grow hair. I loved how unabashed he was!
That reminds me of when my younger brother was hitting that age and lifted his arms up for some reason out on our deck, and I noticed a couple of hairs there. I commented in surprise, and he looked startled at me but said nothing. Next thing I knew, I went into the house, and happened to pass by his open bedroom. As I looked in I was amused to see him standing in front of the mirror with his arms up in the air. He was not happy at my amusement, but it was a memorable moment.
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
A Taste of Crab
You know, it's funny, one of these posts leads into another, and here we go again. I got thinking about the hermit crabs (thought about blogging again last night, since it wasn't until after Tim toddled off that I finished cleaning their tank)...maybe it's okay that they stay in his room and turn rank...that is, other than their smelly effect that would augment that which an 8-year-old produces all on his own...
That is to say, I don't think hermit crabs care if their tank gets filthy. I have three pretty good pieces of evidence and one minor piece. The first is that I know that crabs are bottom feeders, that is, scavengers, who eat what other animals leave behind as inedible. Also, one of the first things Tim's crabs will seek out when left out of their cage to walk on the floor is any shoe of Tim's. Even when all of ours are lined up against the side of the stairs, they invariably choose his. They love his shoes, whereas often these shoes get so bad by human standards that we throw them out, since at times, no amount of cleaning them cures the problem--you can smell them across a football field lengthwise. Yes, they love his shoes, and the surliest crab loves our laundry room. Maybe it's the smell of Tim's socks that draws him. But one time he disappeared and I found him about two days later in the dirty clothes. The next time, he disappeared and I found him about two weeks later, alive, in the dirty clothes. (Yes, I had been doing the laundry consistently all that time. I think he hid behind the dryer.)
The last evidence is that once you clean their cages, they just kind of look lost in the new, clean sand that goes in. They just look kind of confused and like they're trying to get their bearings. I think it takes them a couple of weeks to start getting happy. That is, if indeed those are smiles on their faces. It's kind of hard to be sure with hermit crabs.
All this analysis of their behavior shows me that you can't kill them (one day in the dirty clothes would certainly kill me), and that beauty is definitely in the...what are they on crabs...nostrils?...of the beholder.
That is to say, I don't think hermit crabs care if their tank gets filthy. I have three pretty good pieces of evidence and one minor piece. The first is that I know that crabs are bottom feeders, that is, scavengers, who eat what other animals leave behind as inedible. Also, one of the first things Tim's crabs will seek out when left out of their cage to walk on the floor is any shoe of Tim's. Even when all of ours are lined up against the side of the stairs, they invariably choose his. They love his shoes, whereas often these shoes get so bad by human standards that we throw them out, since at times, no amount of cleaning them cures the problem--you can smell them across a football field lengthwise. Yes, they love his shoes, and the surliest crab loves our laundry room. Maybe it's the smell of Tim's socks that draws him. But one time he disappeared and I found him about two days later in the dirty clothes. The next time, he disappeared and I found him about two weeks later, alive, in the dirty clothes. (Yes, I had been doing the laundry consistently all that time. I think he hid behind the dryer.)
The last evidence is that once you clean their cages, they just kind of look lost in the new, clean sand that goes in. They just look kind of confused and like they're trying to get their bearings. I think it takes them a couple of weeks to start getting happy. That is, if indeed those are smiles on their faces. It's kind of hard to be sure with hermit crabs.
All this analysis of their behavior shows me that you can't kill them (one day in the dirty clothes would certainly kill me), and that beauty is definitely in the...what are they on crabs...nostrils?...of the beholder.
Thursday, May 11, 2006
A Volcanic Solution
Tim called tonight on his way home from baseball practice. Dinner was in the making and he was hungry...I think he wanted a trip to some golden arches somewhere, but no dice. Anyway, in the process he told me that he hit a home run again--second time this season. I told him, "Tim, I'm going to be president of your fan club." He said, "Yeah, that's good. I'll be king." Okay, I think that makes me still second fiddle--but I guess that's a fan's humbling duty.
Then tonight, his fingers were still of a dirty brown hue from his afternoon digging our dirt pile from the front yard to put in our new vegetable garden--combined with whatever particles magnetize to a boy on a baseball field. I told him to wash his hands, which he said he had done. Well, I sent him in to wash again, and he came back still a mud-glazed brown. (I think I have a new alternative to tanning salons--charge girls for the right to roll around in our vegetable garden...) Anyway, then I told him I needed to buy him some Lava Soap to really get that grime to go away. His eyes widened. I told him, "Yeah, you'll be able to tell boys that you wash with rocks from volcanoes." He could hardly wait. "Kids will wonder where I got so black." I said, "The rocks aren't black, they're white--ground pumice." He looked a bit disappointed. "You don't have to tell them it's white. Just that it's from volcanoes." I think he's okay with that. It's definitely top on my list to buy on my next trip to the store.
Then tonight, his fingers were still of a dirty brown hue from his afternoon digging our dirt pile from the front yard to put in our new vegetable garden--combined with whatever particles magnetize to a boy on a baseball field. I told him to wash his hands, which he said he had done. Well, I sent him in to wash again, and he came back still a mud-glazed brown. (I think I have a new alternative to tanning salons--charge girls for the right to roll around in our vegetable garden...) Anyway, then I told him I needed to buy him some Lava Soap to really get that grime to go away. His eyes widened. I told him, "Yeah, you'll be able to tell boys that you wash with rocks from volcanoes." He could hardly wait. "Kids will wonder where I got so black." I said, "The rocks aren't black, they're white--ground pumice." He looked a bit disappointed. "You don't have to tell them it's white. Just that it's from volcanoes." I think he's okay with that. It's definitely top on my list to buy on my next trip to the store.
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