The Letter A is a Boy

Does anyone else out there classify letters and numbers according to gender? I don't know what happened to me in my childhood. Maybe it was the government schooling. Maybe in Kindergarten the teacher had paper letters up on the wall that looked like either boys or girls. I don't know. I never thought much about it until I really thought about it. I mean, I noticed that I did this in my brain a few years ago. I am writing down a letter or two and here I am thinking of "J" as a boy and "K" as a girl. They aren't in any particular order either. Let's see..

A,C,E,F,G,H,I,J,M,N,O,S,T,W,X,Z are all males.

B,D,K,L,P,Q,R,U,V,Y are all females.

Some letters are sort of a little more neuter than others, like, P, L, E, O, and Y. But of course I can regard them as more male than female or more female than male. Weird, huh?

Here are the numbers:

1,2,3,5,7,10 are all males

4,6,8, and 9 are all females

It is almost silly of me to confess this, but I almost feel inside that this is common knowledge and I am not telling anyone anything else that they already don't know. Notice that the letter R is a girl. I bet I think so because my name starts with R.

Ok, I am thinking about this way too much. I need a shrink.

I told this to a close friend of mine about a year ago and I asked her if she thought I was weird. She hesitated and then said, "Well, yes, that is a little odd. But I do some weird things in my head too. The brain is just weird." She was being kind. But she did proceed to tell me that ever since she has taken jobs transcribing (she is a very swift typist) she thinks of conversations with her fingers. She literally has conversations with people and in her brain she is thinking about the placement of each letter on the keyboard with her fingers. Sometimes she finds herself slightly moving them.
She told me of another person she knows that has conversations with people and as she is talking to them or they are talking to her she is thinking of the words backwards. So, for example, if she were listening to someone saying a sentence to her like, "I walked the dog this morning" she would think of how the whole sentence is pronounced backwards, like backward masking or something crazy like that.

Hey, in many languages like Latin and French there are masculine and feminine (and neuter) words. Maybe I am really a genius!

Pink Pet Delight

Yesterday when I was teaching my youngest son I noticed that he was chewing on his eraser. As he would interact with me he would have a bit of eraser in his mouth and then it would never be seen again. I have noticed that he does this, but all I would say is, "Stop biting on your eraser!" He would stop for awhile and then the next day it is the same thing again or maybe just the next minute.
Finally I had an idea. I looked at him in a different sort of way so that he really noticed the change in my demeanor and said, "I have a surprise for you. Wait just a minute!" I proceeded to grab a piece of computer paper and a marker and my son said, "O boy, you are going to draw something for me..."
"No...you will see..."
I wrote "L--- eats erasers" on the paper nice and large, in a neon color. I held it out. My son raised his eyebrows and smiled with the dimples. He laughed. Then he couldn't stand it. He tried to get the paper from me, giggling. My oldest looked at what I wrote and laughed saying, "yeah, I guess he does eat erasers! Gross!"
My youngest son said, "I don't eat erasers!"

"What?" I said. "You take bites and swallow them! You do it to every eraser you have!"

"Ok, so I eat erasers!" He finally said.

I took the paper and hung it up on the frige, smiling.

Later in the afternoon I noticed that the paper was gone. I asked my youngest son where it went. "In the trash, mom. I don't want people knowing I eat erasers!"

Mad Fit

Yesterday I walked the kids about half a mile to the government school park. They brought all their sticks and cardboard shields and a battle banner (a very long stick with a paper flag hanging from it) and marched down there. It was cold, a bit windy, and when we got there a plethora of kids were playing. There was about 20 minutes or so of playing and then my oldest "somehow" hurt his foot. At first he said it was his knee, and then it turned into his foot. He could not even tell me how he hurt it. He did not hit it, he did not twist it, he just jumped up and bam, that is when it started to hurt. On disembarkation from the slide/platform, he would yelp out in pain and then say that he could not walk. I somehow got him to hop over to the bench where I had put all of our stuff, so he sat there while I checked out his injuries. No swelling, nothing. He was crying on the bench telling me that he would "never be able to walk again" and "playing just isn't (his) thing" and how he has "ruined (his) foot for life". He further said, "I am NOT walking on this foot, don't make me, don't make me!!!"

A handful of months ago he got really upset while I was gone (a sitter was watching him) and he went to his room and kicked the door as hard as he could. He did the same thing. He would not walk on the foot, he was hobbling on one leg, and stationed himself on the couch and read and watched tv. Eventually we took him to the doctor (I was embarrassed to because I knew he just sprained his foot) to get an x-ray. He explained to the doctor that he "threw a mad fit" and that was how he came to be in his condition. The doctor smiled and told him that he must have learned his lesson in kicking doors. He got crutches and everything. It was almost comical.

So how did we get home? Good question. The only thing I could think of doing as he said to me, "I am NOT walking home! You will have to carry me mom!" (Since I would have NONE of that) I walked the kids home (my two younger) and left my oldest there on the bench. Just for good measure I said to him, "Stay here, don't get up!" I had to laugh inside. But to be honest, I was a little worried because I have never just left him somewhere before on his own. The minute we went through the trees and the bench was out of sight, the younger children were whimpering about him and saying how much they missed him. Finally I got the car, pulled it up to the playground and as I walked up to the ground, I could see my oldest hanging out on the bench with forlorn face holding up his battle banner like he lost the battle and he is surrendering. He looked pathetic. I think he said to me when I approached, "Let's just face it. I'll never be able to walk again!"

Give me a break.

So, he is still hopping around and I am not taking him to the doctor. First of all, he didn't even hit it against anything. He just jumped. Second, he can hop around. Maybe now he won't be so eager to leave the dinner table or get up in the middle of school. I am sucking this for all it's worth.

Eleysium Made Me Do It

I was tagged (whatever that means) by eleysium.

Four Jobs I've Had:

- demo person at Albertson's
- Sales Associate at The Bon Marche (now Macy's)
- Merry Maid (I can clean very well!)
- Caregiver for mentally disabled adults

Four Movies I Could Watch Over and Over:

- Lord of the Rings Trilogy
- Anything by Masterpiece Theatre (namely Our Mutual Friend)
- The Breakfast Club
- What About Bob or Moonstruck

Four Books I Could Read Over and Over:

- The Bible
- The Return of the Native by Thomas Hardy
- Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis
- Anything by Lewis (non-fiction)

Four Places I've Lived:

- Southern California
- Greenville, South Carolina
- Toledo, OH (I was born there)
- Nampa, ID

Four TV Shows I Watch:

- Masterpiece Theatre (when anything good is on)
- whatever Mr. Wilhelm is watching (which usually consists of two or three different shows in attempts to skip commercials)
- I like cooking shows but don't watch them
- nothing

Four Places I've Been On Vacation:

- The Oregon Coast
- The Atlantic Coast
- Santa Barbara (camping)
- Sun Valley (but I did not ski...I don't know how and would not if one wanted me to!)

Four Websites I Visit Daily:
Do Blog's count?
- Ann's blog (americanspark)
- Gatsby's blog (proverbs3)
- pretty much everyone on my blogroll (which is not a whole lot of people)
- Last but not least, Eleysium

Four Favorite Foods:

- kung pao chicken
- everything raw I can't eat
- salmon
- hamburgers and Bertucci's pizza

Four Places I'd Like To Be Right Now:

- the UK
- in bed
- England, to be exact
- Some rolling hill in Ireland (I would run on it)

Four Bloggers I'm Tagging:

- Jeannie
- Ann
- Liz Tacket
- Molly

I just caught a bad case of blogger's block. I shouldn't have kissed that guy last night...someone bring me some chocolate!

Good Books

The other night my oldest son (who is nine) wanted something to read. He is almost done with this HUGE book on Sherlock Holmes (some complete collection or something) and he wanted something else to read in the meantime. He got these books on Misty of Chincoteague for Christmas from his Grandma, so he plowed through those in a day. I pulled out a small book on Edgar Allen Poe that I had sitting around and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. He did not seem so interested in the latter. I have not read much of Poe, I can't even remember if I have fully read The Tell-Tale Heart. I flipped over to that one since it is famous. My son seemed really interested, so he started reading. I left him there and soon he came upstairs declaring that he finished and said, "I wanted to know what would happen next so much my hands were really shaking!"
Mr. Wilhelm gave me a look. He said he wanted to read another and started on that right there in our room. Soon he put the book down with a forlorn look and said, "That one was boring."
Now he is reading (again!) The Lord of the Rings.

Since I am such a literature fanatic, I can't wait to get my literature claws on him. I have sat and told him about Dracula and Frankenstein and some of The Invisible Man. He really wants to read these books, especially Dracula, but I believe it is too scary for him. That kind of stuff does not scare me much, but I remember I read the book (for the second time) at a bookclub I used to be a part of and some of the ladies could not finish because it scared them too much.

Which reminds me of the book I just finished: The Historian. I really enjoyed it. If you want your fill of scholars going nuts over ancient manuscripts, crispy vellum, moody librarians, leather and velvet bound books from 1500, quest after quest, yellowed letters containing various clues, silver daggers and bullets, record after record, monasteries and monks, this is the book for you. I have read a couple of Anne Rice novels (this was when I was just coming out of my teens) and have enjoyed them. I think that the reason I do not read them now is because there is a certain sort of following that goes with them and I am not interested in that. This book, however, is a marriage of sane fans of folklore, and academics.

I read a review the other night about it and someone said that throughout the letters, documents and narration, the same voice was speaking. I agree. That was the only real downfall of the book next to the rather quick ending. The cool thing about the book is that you never knew a lot of what was going on or where it would lead to, so all the "same voice" documents you are reading and all that don't really matter to you so much at the time. You just want to read the stuff.

With all that said, it is really cool. Godless, but cool. In the novel Dracula says something like, "True goodness in a human being can never be perfected but evil can."

There is one perfect human being.

Room 101

Ok, this is not fair. If anyone at all reads this blog they ought to tell me their "Room 101". I am always talking about mine since they really do bother me too much. You know, hair clots (gag), metal (jewelry and coinage in particular), fingerprints on cheese (or just touching cheese will really get the gag reflex going), worms (very similar to shrimp, so that is why I don't like shrimp), and spiders (just thinking about poor Miss Muffet and how her cruel father would make her eat them mashed up to cure a cold is beyond me---I would seek my vengeance keenly). There are probably more things but I really don't feel like digging deep.

So, what is your Room 101 (I am referring to Orwell's 1984, when I say this, of course)?

Now if you will please excuse me, I have to recover my bearings.

Truth is Stranger Than Fiction

I read this yesterday and thought it really great. Of course I am getting annoying with the Lewis stuff, I am sure:

"Besides being complicated, reality, in my experience, is usually odd. It is not neat, not obvious, not what you expect. For instance, when you have grasped that the earth and the other planets all go round the sun, you would naturally expect that all the planets were made to match---all at equal distances from each other, say, or distances that regularly increased, or all the same size, or else getting bigger or smaller as you go further from the sun. In fact, you find no rhyme or reason (that we can see) about either the sizes or the distances; and some of them have one moon, one has four, one has two and some have none, and one has a ring.

Reality, in fact, is usually something you could not have guessed. That is one of the reasons I believe in Christianity. It is a religion you could not have guessed. If it offered us just the kind of universe we had always expected, I should feel we were making it up. But, in fact, it is not the sort of thing anyone would have made up. It has just that queer twist about it that real things have." ----C.S. Lewis



For some reason this made me think of how silly Scientology is. It seems made up but it also is something you would not have guessed! Look at this malarkey:


"The story of Xenu, the galactic tyrant who first kidnapped certain individuals who were deemed "excess population" and loaded these individuals into space planes for transport to the site of extermination, the planet of Teegeeack (Earth). These space planes were said to have been copies of Douglas DC-8s, with the addition of rocket engines. He then stacked hundreds of billions of these frozen victims around Earth's volcanoes 75 million years ago before blowing them up with hydrogen bombs and brainwashing them with a "three-D, super colossal motion picture" for 36 days, telling them lies of what they are and what the universe should be like and telling them that they are 3 different things: 'Jesus, God, and The Devil.' The traumatized thetans subsequently clustered around human bodies because they watched the motion picture together, making them think they are all the same thing, in effect acting as invisible spiritual parasites known as "body thetans" that can only be removed using advanced Scientology techniques. Xenu is allegedly imprisoned in a mountain by a force field powered by an eternal battery. He is said to be still alive today." ----Wikipedia on Scientology

Horrid Hair

I almost threw up. I swear, I really almost did.

I ordered my daughter upstairs to take a bath and I remembered the drain is so slow in the kids bathroom. I have known I can fix the problem with Drano, but I forgot that I could unscrew the drain fixture and just get the garbage out myself. I wouldn't say it was a mistake for me to do this because I got the job done, but I am literally grossed out. Undeniably, sickened.

I remember a number of years ago when I used to work for Merry Maids. I was huddled down over an unscrewed drain cleaning a shower and I noticed that the people must have left the drain unscrewed so I would clean it out. I attempted to pull the drain fixture up and the goop of matted hair and soap scum caused a jolt in the inner most depths of my stomach. I said, "Not in my job description!" and left it there.

As I was cleaning this drain, however, I kept thinking, "Not in my job description!" but knew that if this thing was going to be cleared out I had to do it. I could not imagine Mr. Wilhelm bending down over this drain and using a skewer to ambly get the disgusting sopping hair and whatnot through the grate. I keep imagining horrible things, like, it is in my throat, or about to lurch out of my stomach. I know, what an imagination I have. Fear Factor comes to mind. I am sure they would make me eat it. I am drinking coffee and I am scared to death it is in there. It's like when someone says they have lice you are suddenly scratching your head incessantly because---Ew, gross!

I will say with all confidence (and what really makes this worse) is that it was not the hair of anyone in my family.

And, if you have any shred of decency in you and you would rather that I not get so thin you wonder why I wear a size 1, you would not mention this to me. I am trying to forget it. Writing is supposed to be therapeutic, right?

Save me.

Sleeping and Prayer

Last night I couldn't sleep. I got maybe four hours of sleep last night. Some nights it just does not come. It gets to the point where I am saying in my brain, "I am not asleep. I will never fall asleep. Come on! Just sleep...think about sheep. Yeah...sheep. I am not asleep. I am awake, awake, awake.." Praying is usually the remedy. I know, that is sad, but for some reason praying makes me fall asleep. It takes so much thought to pray. Really, so much presence of mind. Lewis said that (and I am paraphrasing greatly) it is preposterous for Christians to pray before they go to sleep. He could not think of a worse time to pray. The mind is exhausted---it is impossible (I think for men---and this is Rachel speaking) to have normal thoughts at the moment before one sleeps.

So, while I was trying to sleep and trying to pray at the same time I am praying for myself. Then I remember the sermon the pastor from Rwanda preached on Sunday. He was telling us Americans how we all pray for ourselves all the time. It is so true and so convicting. So, naturally, I tried to pray for others. I was sleepy but not asleep so I was mixing people around in my head, having incomplete thoughts. Lewis says one of the best kinds of prayers are prayers without words---just images of what/who needs to be prayed for. It takes intense concentration to do this and of course, I was not.

Being a mother and finding time to pray is difficult. I feel like I don't know how. I read about it, but I never feel like I am fully doing this to my capacity. I don't feel guilty, just not very well-versed. I remember reading that Martin Luther's wife would put her apron over her head when she felt that she needed to pray and the kids would let her alone at that time. I thought, "what a very disciplined woman!" and then as I think of this, I remember that she was a nun and praying is so natural to her that she probably needed to take a break from praying and care for her kids! I am just saying that indeed I can be too hard on myself. I am a firm believer in the song Keith Green sang called "Make My Life a Prayer to You." ---Because it is "so hard to see when my eyes are on me."

And it is so hard to sleep with this brain in my head. Make it stop.

Craziness

Apparently last night when Mr. Wilhelm went through the drive thru at Mc Donald's my younger boy was upset because he wanted a "Happy Meal" instead of just a hamburger. It was late, we don't want to deal with happy meals, we just want to order a few things and be on our way. Sometimes Sunday nights are like this for us because we have church at night and the kids get so hungry and we want to go home and put them to bed soon! So the younger boy says, "I wanted a happy meal!!!"

My daughter says to him, "You can't have a happy meal, but you can have a SAD meal!"

I thought that was outrageously funny.



My youngest boy informed me today that he was going to try very hard "not to sin all week". He has failed miserably already. He also told me that he was not going to "let the devil take a hold on" him. He has already hit his sister twice and yelled at her. I reminded him of what he was going to "try" to do. He said he forgot!

Interruptions and Waiting

I was dusting a shelf once this past year at someone's house and I noticed a framed quote. It was very good, I thought. I felt really bad after I read it. Here is my paraphrased version:

"I thought that I would get more work done if I did not have children constantly interrupting me. Then, I realized that the interruptions were my job."

I am doing a bad job paraphrasing, but you get the gist. It seared me. I am a very one track minded person. If I am mopping the floor, I am mopping. Not talking, not eating something, not barking orders, I am mopping. If I am playing guitar, I am playing guitar. If I am making soap, I am making soap. If I am making dinner, I am making dinner. I try to do other things, but my memory is bad and I often forget the other things I was trying to do at the same time. Lunchtime is the most horrible time for me. I make lunch for the kids (they are all picky and I give top ramen to one, pbj to the others, etc.). I literally forget drinks every time. It is so normal for me to forget drinks that I just sit down for pretty much every meal and then once we pray I have to get up again because I realize that no one has a drink. Or, my husband says, "drinks!" or he just gets up and does it because he is used to my forgetting constantly. My oldest son always hints. He is eating a sandwich or something and he says, "Boy, I sure am thirsty!"

I think what I am saying is that interruptions are especially hard for me. I could be literally doing something and then once I get interrupted forget it because hey, I literally forget it. I have moved on. I am very frustrated with this because I like completing tasks. I suppose I do like completing a task, say, of mopping the floor rather than wiping my daughter's rear end, or maybe instead of being so mindful that I actually notice my youngest son heartily picking his nose. I just have this rule or mindset that life is all about waiting. We are always waiting for something. I have obviously taught my children this. They are always waiting for me. I will be like Lewis and say that the waiting is sometimes the best part. I think it IS the best part. Anticipation. Once you do or get whatever it is you are waiting for, it sort of wanes quite a bit. One of the great glories of being a Christian is waiting. We will be made complete, our joy will be made full.

Air and Space II

The kids and I went to Air and Space in Chantilly (the better one) the other day (MLK day----"Sleep, sleep tonight, and may your dreams be realized..."). I am so unspontaneous. My friend Catherine called me in the morning and asked if I wanted to make a field trip with her and her brother's family (our pastor) to this museum. I was sitting in my pj's looking at the ceiling, making my oldest son take a spelling test. Actually, he wanted to take it, but that is a different subject altogether. I kept rolling the prospect around in my head while I was talking to her. I thought for a bit she was talking about the Air and Space in DC. I did not want to do that again. I mean, it reminded me of the nasty public school multi-purpose room where you had to sit on the old, thin floor because they refused to pull out chairs. All I remember is it smelled like sweat and bad breath. Air and Space was worse. It smelled like all this plus people were everywhere. Looking at engines and old space suits. Some of it was a 70's nightmare. I hate looking at old clunky data areas (I can't think of what they are called) and the buttons are all big and colorful---reminds me of the buttons on Darth Vader. Tin foil satellites and middle aged men who smell like b.o. with a beard so long they have to practically wrap it over their shoulder so it won't get in the way of their gesturing hands as they explain to some stander-by how "fascinating it all is". ---Not without loads of technical terms. You know the kind of guy I mean too. They have over-sized tinted sunglasses, a dirty ball cap, and a flannel. I know I am being mean, but kick me. So, I was thinking this kind of stuff when I was on the phone in the morning donning my pj's. Once Catherine cleared up that they were NOT going to the Air and Space in DC, I lit up and said, "Well, I have never been to the one over here before..." Catherine is so patient with me as you will soon see. She said, "Do you want me to make the decision for you?" I love her. She knows me too well. I laughed so hard and said, "Yes, I think I will go but I will ask the kids first!" They were of course, on board and I got ready and off we went.

I will say that on first impression it was great. I mean, I hate all that stuff, but the place was made of metal (I believe it was a hanger) and it was clean, sleek, and smelled fine. I think I could have licked the floor of the place, it was so clean. When we were on top of the observation tower it smelled like alcohol. I think it was because some trusty worker went in there before onlookers and disinfected the railings! Bless them! It was overall a good time except when my four year old daughter cried for fifteen minutes because she was "bored" and "hated engines"! I felt the same way, believe me and maybe would have cried if it were acceptable for adults to do, but I had to keep up appearances and act like everything was so fascinating to the boys, who were surprisingly bored too until the Claire's came. Once the Claire's came it was like the world changed from dreary to amazingly beautiful because Catherine (whom my daughter had heard all about but never played with) was there. She and the Claire's daughter played with Catherine and held her hands and all was well. Planes suddenly turned into an adventure and joy filled the earth again. My oldest whined about his feet hurting and my youngest boy whined about how he did not like the planes. I tried my best to muster up some sort of fun thing about them. Eventually we ate and then they didn't complain anymore. Oh brother.

I know it sounds like I hated it there. I didn't hate it. I would not say that. It is just like when my husband asks me to watch football with him. I never watch it. I don't really know how. I sit there and look at the opposite wall or out the window. It is not that I hate football, I just have no idea how to find enjoyment in it unless someone comes alongside and tells me some fun things about it. It was good my pastor was there because he told me some snippets of things about the various planes and such that helped me to enjoy the experience more. When we went to A&P in DC it was nice because my husband knew about everything and he could tell me all sorts of stuff. Men are great for this. Maybe even the ones that smell like b.o. and wear dirty ball caps. I can't believe I said that.

Oh Welcome, Sleep

I love Eleysium's challenge to sleep more. Now only if I can actually fall asleep when I want to! I envy those men (much like my own husband) who can just hit the pillow and sleep by the snap of a finger. Is that why the Proverbs woman's lamp never goes out? I have always wondered that. She is constantly working, her mind is constantly going, and she keeps her lamp on because she can never sleep! Ah! I wish that were my excuse!

Stress

I get tired of hearing this and that is "so hard on me" and "so stressful". I mean, there are things that are stressful and things that are not. I have always thought you know, it is all relative, cut the person some slack, etc, etc. I could relate this to children. My child could say to me, "doing my chores is so hard on me." Give me a break. This is children's talk, right? No. Adults do this too. I do this. I see it in a far more serious manner though sometimes in others. "My car broke down, I can't take it." Let's throw a fit. "This stresses me out, that stresses me out." I'm done, I am walking away.
I realize that I am obviously being harsh, but there is a point when someone has to say, "grow up!" We are all in different places, yes, I understand that. Our goal here on this earth though, is to see beyond ourselves, not envelop ourselves IN ourselves. Maybe I am wrong. So hack at me.

Purgatory

I find it interesting that Lewis believed in purgatory. As you know, I have been reading a lot of his stuff lately. I think this belief is evident in The Great Divorce and even when you look at his high view of George Mac Donald. I say this only because there was a little bit of a purgatory-like thought (at least I thought, but I am not some literature expert) in his book, Lilith.

I think that thinking about this subject is almost giving too much thought to what will happen when we die because frankly, we do not know what it will look like, what it will feel like, etc. I think sometimes that things are better left mysteries because our simple minds can not possibly contain the sort of high knowledge God has. I am not saying I agree or disagree!

Bath Reluctance

My youngest son just put himself down for a nap in the middle of school. What the heck? I know he has been whinny and crabby lately...

My oldest son grabbed the books in a great hurry right after breakfast and started directly to work with out my saying any thing. I know, all on the same morning. Something in the air? He is the classic Dennis the Menace type. Hates showers, hates smelling good, wants to be a dirty boy, I guess. I mean, maybe he really doesn't notice himself, but he is getting ripe now when he misses a day of showering. I keep telling Mr. Wilhelm it is his age. Nine---almost 10. I remember distinctly when my younger brother went through this stage. He rarely took a bath or shower; my mom had to practically drag him in there. I remember almost spitting out my food one time when he approached saying that he felt compelled to help the environment (there's public school for you) and it made him sick that someone left water running. I think he was saying also that he does not do enough himself to help the environment. I laughed in his face and told him surely he does his share by the amount of showers he takes in a week. I think that was the one and only time my older brother laughed at anything I said. Perhaps that is why I remember it. So, there is the age nine/ten bath reluctance stage proven.

Ego Boost of the Day

While my daughter was attacking me with hugs, she said, "I love you! I just can't resist! You are so pretty!" (Giggle, giggle, giggle)

You know, sometimes when you are with the kids all day you think that no one would even care what the heck you look like---I have changed that lately by putting on nicer clothes rather than sweats and a t-shirt for lounging around the house and schooling the kids. Wilhelm and I were listening to some Orthodox lady lecturing on how adults never grow up. She had a point when she mentioned that the normal day gear for anyone is a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. That sounds somewhat like me. I am wearing jeans right now, but only because all my other pants are suddenly too big and I have to buy some new clothes! Ugh! The funny thing is that I could relate to this lecture. I never feel like I am an adult; I always feel like I am just cruising along and going with the flow. I fell in love, got married, had children, and now I am schooling them and caring for them. It is not like I really thought it all out or anything.

I say that adulthood is accepting responsibility. I still wince from that in other areas of my life. What do you all think adulthood is? I would love to hear from you people. I know you lurk around, but don't post. C'mon!

Like Mother, Like Daughter

I snort when I laugh really hard. I used to think that I sort of did it a little bit on purpose, but time after time I found that I did it no matter what I did to control it. What frightens me more about this is that just sitting here with my daughter I have found that the more I make her laugh by tickling her or by just doing silly things, she will snort as well. It is really odd. I never thought that stuff was genetic! Not only does she snort when she laughs, she is clumsy and bumps into all sorts of stuff too! Mr. Wilhelm says at these times, "Just like her mother!"

The thing that my daughter does that I especially enjoy is when she is really forcing a laugh and she says, "I know, Mom, I'm being so fake!"

Camping Fan

Like I always complain, I constantly have to deal with various excrement when it comes to the kids. When we went to PA my youngest boy puked in the car and I pretty much got it all over me and then had to clean it up (thankfully, most of it was thrown up in a Trader Joe's bag---those things are so useful!) and now I have to deal with some new ridiculousness. My daughter wet her bed the other night because she purposely did not put on a night diaper. I had to disinfect the mattress, clean everything up and let the mattress dry overnight. So, my girl got to sleep on the floor in a sleeping bag. Bad idea. She wanted to sleep that way the next night, so we let her. Bad idea. Last night she put on her own diaper (she is four and a half, she should not even be wearing diapers anyway, but you know, my kids have problems) and lo and behold this morning her mattress and sheets were all wet. Her diaper was inside out! I asked her if she knew this and she nodded her head shamefully. She told me she put it on that way on purpose. I said, "What?! Why?!"
Yep, you guessed it. Her reason was so she could wet her bed and she could sleep on the floor again. I could have pulled her hair. She is definitely not sleeping on the floor.

A Book Finished!

As my heading indicates, I actually finished a book last night. I know, what a miracle since I have not finished one in ages since school started this year. It is really a shame and believe me, I have felt rotten about it. Thinking about it gives me cramps. It will not surprise you what it is because of my C.S. Lewis kick. I love the man. I will quote you one of my favorite paragraphs (he is speaking of heaven) and look especially, dear ones who I have left behind in Idaho and the other two who are in Wisconsin:

"Then the new earth and sky, the same yet not the same as these, will rise in us as we have risen in Christ. And once again, after who knows what aeons of the silence and the dark, the birds will sing and the waters flow, and lights and shadows move across the hills, and the faces of our friends laugh upon us with amazed recognition."

Brings tears to my eyes. I love the fact that I have eternal friends in Christ. That is a miracle.

Must Read

This says what I believe about Pride being behind all other sins. Lewis is awesome.


"Traditional doctrine points to a sin against God, an act of disobedience, not sin against the neighbor. And certainly, if we are to hold the doctrine of the Fall in any real sense, we must look for the great sin on a deeper and more timeless level than that of social morality.

This sin has been described by Saint Augustine as the result of Pride, of the movement whereby a creature (that is, an essentially dependent being whose principle of existence lies not in itself but in another) tries to set up on its own, to exist for itself. Such a sin requires no complex social conditions, no extended experience, no great intellectual development. From the moment a creature becomes aware of God as God and of itself as self, the terrible alternative of choosing God or self for the centre is opened to it. This sin is committed daily by young children and ignorant peasants as well as by sophisticated persons, by solitaries no less than by those who live in society: it is the fall in every individual life, and in each day of each individual life, the basic sin behind all particular sins: at this very moment you and I are either committing it, or about to commit it, or repenting it. " ---C.S. Lewis from The Problem of Pain

Latin, Anyone?

Every Wednesday T, my oldest son, and I learn a new lesson in Latin. Today I was drilling him on his vocabulary.
"Incola," I said.
"Uh...settler," said T.
"Ah, let's see...Amita," I said.
"Uh, wait, umm, Aunt?"
"Yep. You got it."
"Ursa," I said.
"BEAR!" yells my daughter.
"What?!" I said.
She laughs and giggles and says bear over and over.
It scares me to think that she picks up stuff like that so easily.
My oldest son thought it was a riot that she knew that ursa is bear in Latin. He kept telling her that she is cute. My middle son wants to learn now and can even recite some of the chanting. I am amazed at the impressionable mind of the child.

Purple Balloon

Yesterday I made my weekly trip to my favorite store. The kids were excited because they got balloons there like they always do (why do kids like balloons so much?). T accidentially popped his white balloon when he got in there, and he quickly ran to go get a replacement. E got a purple balloon and she was in love with it. When we got to the car, they all sat down inside while I piled the groceries in the trunk. When I came back to return the cart, I noticed that E's balloon was hanging outside the door (like she shut the door on it). Of course I open the door and try to catch it but up it goes, never to be seen again. And of course she starts crying. L quickly forsakes his balloon and gives it to her and she doesn't want it. He tells her he feels bad for her and he wants her to have it but she won't take it (let's not forget to say that the balloon is orange). She cries and cries and finally says, "Mom, at least Jesus will get it. He will keep it and give it to me when I get to heaven, right? I guess my purple balloon is in balloon heaven now!"

I thought this was funny because apparently they made up a place called balloon heaven (I am sure every kid makes this up at some point) and T started to say, "Yeah, Mom, we made it up. It's just this place we made up, ok?"

T

School started yesterday in my house. It went really well, to my shock. I have been doing this for almost five years now so I should be some expert but I am not. I have learned that the best thing that one teaches a child is how to read, and then it sort of takes care of itself from there. My oldest son is the best example of this. It can even go to a bad side though when I am, say, at Barnes and Noble and I find him on the floor reading a book on Astrology. But, it is cool that I can just hand him directions to just about anything and he can read it and instruct me on what to do. He is like a genius sponge.

On Christmas Day he was so excited to get his microscope. I did the cotton swab thing with him and rubbed it in his mouth then rubbed it on a slide. He was absolutely thrilled when he saw bacteria. It was the Price is Right again...he won a car. He had his hands over his head jumping up and down yelling, "I have seen bacteria! Yes! BAC-TER-I-A!" I think he even tried to look through the scope again while jumping up and down.

Last night we were reading about the Roman consul named Manlius and when we got to the part where Manlius orders his soldiers to decapitate his own son T said, "WHAT?!!!" He couldn't believe it. He kept talking about it being the most cruel punishment of all.

Anyway, I better go because I have to get the lazys out of bed. Wish me luck and bravery, because when they get up, it's over. The silence does not happen again until they are all in bed.

The Day After New Years

As much as I love the holidays, I am glad they are over. It never stops for us. I make soap, make tins, send out cards, have my birthday, the list goes on forever all up until Christmas. When I think it is over then I have to remember that on New Year's Day it is my youngest son's birthday. Every year I scramble to get him gifts. Hopefully this year I will be on the ball and I will buy them by Thanksgiving or something.

And, thinking about New Year's Day, I always hear about New Year's Resolutions. I never make them. I really don't see the point. I make resolutions all the time; some I break, some I keep. I never make them on New Year's Day. I think it is that same feeling you get when your birthday hits and you don't feel your age. You still feel like you have always felt.

The sermon last night was about making your resolution to lead a more spiritual life. I think that is a great resolution. For every day.

All Is Weird on New Years Day

I went running and almost immediately I saw a 16 year old boy (about) running with summer clothes on, holding a hubcap. I know, weird.

Further on my run I saw a snazzy looking man blocking an entrance to the local school with his car. He was literally standing outside of his car looking at the traffic. He was wearing a long leather coat and behind his back he was holding a pair of leather gloves. It kind of freaked me out, it looked strange, but I ran by the guy. I thought, "if he is still there when I go by again, I will go across the street."

Then, I went down another street that passes by my house and a U.S. Postal truck was going up the street. Oh yeah, the postal service always delivers mail on New Years Day.

So, when I made my next trip around my route, I again saw the weird man in the leather jacket and so I crossed the street and all that like I thought that I would do.

I went down the same street again that passes my house and lo, here comes the postal truck again! The same one!

At this point I thought I would go home instead of running another two miles; things are just too weird today.

Favorite Food

My favorite food used to be a big, fat, juicy hamburger with "everything on it". Just thinking about this makes me sad. I used to LOVE Caesar salad and fresh salsa (I make really good fresh salsa!) but alas, I can not eat anything that is fresh. Or raw, if you want to be more specific. It really does stink. I hate watching my husband eat a salad and I can't have any. He is really good to me because he will not let me for any reason cheat and eat a piece of his lettuce. Right before I go to put the lettuce in my mouth he always says, "Rachel, you'll regret it!" And of course, rash comes and my mouth swells and all that fun stuff. My body just can't take it. Of course I react to some things more than others.

So, I bet you are wondering what my new favorite food is. Yeah, I bet you are holding your breath. It took me a long time to figure it out. I was at Miss Betsy's house for a spell one day and she told me she had left over Chinese food in the fridge. Lo and behold I found Kung Pao Chicken and I loved it so much I ate it cold. Now, I have always loved Kung Pao Chicken, but I think I realized that I more than love it. Heck, I ate it COLD.

Yeah, it is hot, yeah, it will burn in my stomach, and yeah, it will most likely give me cramps all night, but you know what, it is worth it. So now that you know my weakness do not tell my arch-enemy what can kill me. He might slip me a sliver of tomato in my plain hamburger and my throat will close off and I will surely die.

My middle child's quote of the day:

"T! (my oldest boy) Your cheeks are all rosy! It's like you're in love!"

New Blog

This new blog will be well worth your read in the many days ahead...

Medical Manual

Since my husband had heartburn last night, I am sitting here listening to my oldest son read all about it to me first thing in the morning.

Yesterday he was reading about bad breath. He read that the advice for bad breath in the manual is to merely "rinse your mouth with plain water. It does more than the mouth washes one can buy at the store." I think those people are nuts, actually.

At the moment he is reading, "...avoid tight clothing and tight belts..." And he keeps going...

One More Great Quote by Lewis:

"If God had granted all the silly prayers I have made in my life, where should I be now?"

More Lewis

I take comfort that this man is worshipping with us as we worship "with all the company of Heaven." He is like a rockstar to me. Here is his take on the Lord's Prayer, specifically the "thy will be done" part:

"...But more than that, I am at this very moment contemplating a new festoon. Tell me if you think it a vain sublety. I am beginning to feel that we need a preliminary act of submission not only towards possible future afflictions but also towards possible future blessings. I know it sounds fantastic; but think it over. It seems to me that we often, almost sulkily, reject the good that God offers us because, at that moment, we expected some other good. Do you know what I mean? On every level of our life----in our religious experience, in our gastronomic, erotic, aesthetic, and social experience,---we are always harking back to some occasion which seemed to us to reach perfection, setting that up as a norm, and depreciating all other occasions by comparison. But these other occasions, I know suspect, are often full of their own new blessing, if only we would lay ourselves open to it. God shows us a new facet of the glory, and we refuse to look at it because we're still looking for the old one. And of course we don't get that. You can't, at the twentieth reading, get again the experience of reading Lycidas for the first time. But what you do get can be in its own way as good.

This applies especially to the devotional life. Many religious people lament that the first fervours of their conversion have died away. They think--sometimes rightly, but not, I believe, always--that their sins account for this. They may even try by pitiful efforts of will to revive what now seem to have been the golden days. But were those fervours---the operative words is those---ever intended to last?

It would be rash to say that there is any prayer which God never grants. But the strongest candidate is the prayer we might express in the single word encore. And how should the Infinite repeat Himself? All space and time are too little for Him to utter Himself in them once.

And the joke, or tragedy, of it all is that these golden moments in the past, which are so tormenting if we erect them into a norm, are entirely nourishing, wholesome, and enchanting if we are content to accept them for what they are, for memories. Properly bedded down in a past which we do not miserably try to conjure back, they will send up exquisite growths. Leave the bulbs alone, and the new flowers will come up. Grub them up and hope, by fondling and sniffing, to get last year's blooms, and you will get nothing. 'Unless a seed die...'"

---C.S. Lewis from Letters to Malcolm

Peanut Cakes

I just finished making this major Wilhelm delicacy at Christmastime. Peanut Cakes. You take yellow cake, cut it into little squares, frost each side of the square and then roll the squares in finely ground peanuts. It is really labor intensive. I feel kind of gross. You know when you eat too much sugar or even when you are around too much sugar you get that sick taste in your mouth? I am right there. Ick.

My boys just came downstairs and told me that they had decided to hibernate for four days. They thought hibernating right under the tree would do well. It was short-lived because I told them "no" and once in awhile it sticks.

My house is a filth-bomb. I can not keep up with it. My house in Idaho was good bit smaller (1100 square feet) and a good once a week cleaning on a Saturday (which usually took me an hour and a half) did the job. It is not like I have ever wanted more living space. I never have. Wilhelm can vouch for that. We just sort of got what we got. I have a number of people to clean up after, so that may be part of the problem. I have one more bathroom to clean, two more sets of floors and a whole flight of stairs. I could keep going but I won't bore you. So, what am I doing on here? Heck, I don't know. Evading. Maybe blogging makes my house dirty...

Wilkie

I got my friend Betsy going on reading tons of Wilkie Collins, so she has picked up books that I have not even bothered to pick up yet. This woman is handing me books now saying, "Have you read this yet?"

I'm thinking, "Uh, I haven't read a book in a few months. I don't know what is wrong with me. I never thought I would say that I don't have time."

But, she gave me this one book that is pretty good so far. I decided to sit down one night and really read instead of fold laundry or something or other. It is called Man and Wife. It is basically about a maimed woman who thinks that she may be married to her betrothed's friend on accident. I know, silly, but Collins did know quite a lot about law in those days and he often made strange stories up with the information he had.

You guys should pick up some Collins, he is worth the read. At times he can be a pure mix of Dickens and Hardy. I see more and more Hardy as I read. Bad things happen, it is great.

The Rocket of Christmas

My youngest son actually whips out the calculator and counts the HOURS until Christmas. I keep telling him that he needs to not obsess about it. He will say to me, "I know, I know, I am getting obsessed. ---But I really can't wait until Christmas!"

In the car: "Only one hundred and thirty four days until Christmas!"

"How did you know that?"

"I calculated it when I got up this morning."

"Oh. You nut."

A few days ago this kid kept talking about Christmas and presents. I gave him the look that meant, "you are obsessed and Christmas means more than presents!" I think he very well knows this look because he said, " Mom, I can't wait for Christmas so much. I know I am obsessed. Please pray that I will be thankful!"

I am sure I don't help matters much at times. I caught myself telling my oldest son (the big one) that his stocking is full to the brim. He put up his fists in a surge of energy and his eyes popped out. He finished it off with the sound of a tea kettle whistling at full blast.

I know, it was shocking to me too. This is something he does periodically when he can't contain his excitement. I think on Christmas day when he gets the microscope or the gameboy games he wants he is going to spontaneously combust. I can imagine him doing the tea kettle thing again and launching off through the ceiling. No more oldest son. He went sky rocketing into space and can be seen no more.

Funny Faces

My daughter was being goofy. She was making faces at me by squinting and putting up her fists. This is a face that she seems to think is a laughable one. I told her, "Girlie, you definitely are original!"

She said to me, "I definitely am hilarious!"

Didn't know she knew that word!

A Lesson

This is on my "to read" list today. I think you all should give it a read. I have read it in the past and it did not effect me then. I think it will do me good now. The author is Doug Wilson's father, who I have been told from a trusty and knowledgeable source that when he rebukes or speaks in a correcting manner the recipient would never know, he is so graceful. I am in awe of an ability like that.

A Reason to Smile

About a month or more ago I was at a worship music meeting for my church and the lady that does the sound, Asha, told me that she just got an iPod and it is so cool. I will quote her: "I didn't really think I wanted one, but once I had one, I thought, I need this!" I am paraphrasing, but she said essentially that. It made me laugh because she was further saying that "all her favorite songs" are on this thing, so when she is walking down the streets of DC she is listening to her iPod and she just wants to hug everybody and smile at them. I went home and told this to my husband. He laughed. Guess what I got for my birthday. Yep, I don't even have to say it.

So, I am listening to a shuffle of Oasis, Eisley, Grant Lee Phillips, Sarah McLachlan, Coldplay, and u2. I don't feel like hugging anyone or even smiling at anyone (I am not as nice as Asha) but this is pretty cool.

Getting Older

My oldest is at the Dennis the Menace age where he hates to get wet and get clean. I literally have to drag him to the shower, turn it on, and guide him in there. Oftentimes what happens is that once he is in there he does not wash his hair, or he doesn't wash is body. He will come to us dripping, saying, "Well, I took a shower!" I will take a whiff of his hair and it will still smell oily. You know, that "I haven't washed my hair in four days" funk. "Get your butt back up there!" I yell. On top of this he gets pretty ripe under his arms. It's like he turned into a mini man over night. So, I have had to start buying him Right Guard and hopefully if he remembers after the shower, he will put it on for his own sake and maybe ours.

My oldest has an old friend (who is a year or so younger than he is) who moved to Wisconsin a year ago from Idaho. We got a Christmas card with a picture of her and her sisters and he noticed it setting there on the frige. "Mom!" my oldest says.

"What's that?" I ask him.

He is looking at the picture on the frige intently. "Well, Audrey will NEVER be able to get to my age at the same time as me no matter how old she gets, will she?" he says with animation.

"Nope. So, what do you think of Audrey? Does she look older? Has she changed to you?"

He starts running off and says this through the house: "Yeah! She looks older! Old enough to wear deodorant!"

My laugh was muffled but in my mind it could be heard from outside.

The Helmet Breakers

A future band is on the rise. The members include my two sons (namely my youngest son). They are called "The Helmet Breakers".
Here is a few song titles that especially struck my fancy:

1.Money's Too Much
2. Christmas Love
3. Can You See
4. Bang on the Run (a little like "Band on the Run")
5. Too Much
6. Total Blackout
7. Emergency Breakdown
8. XXX
9. The Emergency Squad
10. Magical Key (we are almost getting Beatles here)
11. Love that Girl (this, I was told, is to be like "Love Me Do")
12. Up to 100 Years Old
13. 18 and Up Can Drive a Car
14. I Am Only Six

My youngest son said that he is going to sing and then other people that he meets later in life will play the instruments. He absolutely has no real music to go with these song titles, just titles and no actual songs, so it is hilarious that he thinks that once the Helmet Breakers really rise they will write songs according to the notes of a six year old boy.

Children

My four year old daughter was laughing in the back seat of the car last week because the trees were "bare maked". She was pointing at them in their shame.

I wonder why I just don't appreicate the beauty of my children more. This life is so distracting. I get so caught up and God has given me these little brilliant lives to care for and sometimes all I can think about is getting them to bed so I can rest! I would say that I don't know what the answer is, but I think I do know the answer. I just forget it all the time because I am a dunce. I know that if I love the Lord with all my heart I will love my neighbor as myself. I will think beyond myself and my own rest will not be the issue any longer. I will actually find rest in NOT resting! Lord, give me joy I pray!

Blank. Complete blank.

Games

I was just playing Rumi with my oldest. He beat the living tar out of me the first game. He said just that too. "I beat the TAR out of you, Mom! I bet no one could surpass a record so strong!" The boy rarely triumphs over me at a card game (except Uno and I hate Uno!). All those years of sitting around the house as a kid playing games with my sister or just playing solitare paid off. I am shocked at how competitive I get. I remember when my kids first got the game Trouble. It is a fast-paced board game where you knock each other out and try to get "6's" in order to get back in again. For some reason kids have all the luck with dice. I remember at one point (this was a few years ago) I was so livid with anger about the stupid game because I wanted to win! What is really silly is that I was playing with my kids.

This will make my husband's eyes roll a double whammy. I remember when we were dating my brother got an x box or nintendo or something and he had this light sabre Star Wars game. If you were the best you got to be Darth Vader and just rip your opponent apart because you had all the cool tricks. My husband and I would play this game (note he was not my husband at the time) and he would just rip me to shreds every time. I was actually a really good sport at it but wanted to beat him someday. I especially hated the fact that I could never be Darth Vader because I stunk so bad at this game. Believe it or not, I would practice before he would come over and I got pretty good. I could be Darth and everything. I even learned some crazy trick that no one else knew and I became unbeatable. When I pulled this on my husband he was like, "there is no way---my control must be broken! How did you do that?!" We would be playing Darth Vader versus Darth Vader and my Darth Vader became more powerful than his Darth Vader "could possibly imagine". I really thought that it was all fun and games. Everytime I would win I would giggle and bounce around and hug my husband like he was Bob Barker on the Price is Right. I was just happy I could beat him at something. I remember one time I played Trivial Pursuit (don't do this to yourself ever!) with the man and he was the first player and his "turn" did not end until he got every wedge and won the game. No one even got a turn. He tried to teach me chess once and he plowed me down so fast I had no idea what hit me. I have tried playing Scrabble with him and I tell you, don't do this to yourself either. Somehow he always gets those 40 point triple word scores and you are essentially left in the dust with your sad little word "toy" as your only triumph because hey, you used a "Y"! In short, we never played that game again. I have since learned that it is not "cute" to do that to a guy that is used to winning.

So---when my son gloats about beating the tar out of me, sure, it hurts. Well, I guess it doesn't that bad. Besides, I think he only learned the phrase "beat the tar out" from me anyway. So I must not have learned my lesson because I still must gloat. If I can ever get my husband to play Scrabble or Trivial Pursuit with me and by some divine miracle I win, that is cause for gloating! That is a once in a life time chance to be on top of the world! I might get shot, but it would be a good death!

Mean, Crazy, Cold

The heater is not working correctly. The landlady just pretty much hung up on me after I asked her again (the fourth time) to get the problem fixed. She did a series of cut-me-offs and excuses and then said, "goodbye" and hung up. I don't get it. Another great morning beginning on the right foot.

I just wish that during Christmastime people would be nicer or at least try harder to be nice so that I would not have to try so hard to have a good time. Of course I have been experiencing a lot of things lately where I have had to set boundaries or just put my foot down. I had a dream that someone said to me, "You have gotten so mean since you've decided to set these boundaries." I have been cowardly in the past and saying no was really hard for me. If being brave, setting some boundaries and saying no when I can not or will not is being mean, I guess I am. I rather like "being mean" better. I know where I stand!

Of course I am having this conversation with myself because I am the one that thought of the "being mean" issue (because of my silly dream). So great, now I'm mean AND I'm crazy.

Embracing Plunging

I can't think of anything to write about. I woke up having to unclog a toilet full of brown loveliness, it would not work, so I had to drive in the snow to the hardware store (with three sick kids, mind you) to get a new plunger, a snake, a snow scraper for our car (which I did not have and had to use my hands!), and some bleach. Before getting to the store two cars just completely crashed right in front of me so I had to sort of slide by them to get to my destination. I was like, "Hold on kids, and pray we don't get crashed into!"

Made it home in one piece, thankfully. I was wrathful. I can't even explain to you the stench, the nastiness, the monster I was at odds with. I don't want to scare you, ladies, but when you are a mother, sometimes excrement becomes part of your life. I still have not embraced it.

The moral of the story: Get one of these.

TJ's

I must admit I am addicted to Trader Joe's. I was talking to Miss Betsy about it today and she is too. What is it about Trader Joe's that is so stinking wonderful? I pretty much think it is everything. Those of you in Idaho be informed that a Trader Joe's is like a Win-co and a Cost Plus World Market combined. ---And you get these really cool thick, paper bags to use later for just about anything.

My kids hate it!

December

I have found that I can fight all day and every day for a douse of Godly peace and it does not come because it is already here. I find that in a twisted way, it's not the kind I want. I want worry-free days, no interruptions, no hardships. I can choose to have peace---really, joy that comes from Jesus. I think prayer is the key. As Keith Green has said, "make my life a prayer to you.." I have found in all things that I can never do any good on my own. I may just beg and plead with Him to pick me up and keep me safe when He just may choose to tightly hold my hand instead. He teaches us all in different ways.

The promise is that He is with us, that He came and death is conquered. What else can touch you? "Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness and all these things shall be added to you."

At this "season" I know that I need Him and the enemy has no power.

Fearful and Fanciful Mind

I just got back from running again. My oldest has been begging me to take him so this time I did. He didn't make it past a few blocks and said that he would have to walk the rest of the way. I told him to just go down a block and make a right and go home. The kid is nine years old, I don't know why I did this, but I was really reluctant to let him go. I did though and I saw him jogging off in the opposite direction. I immediately had thoughts of someone shooting him before he got to the front door or some car hitting him (they do speed down the street!). Before I knew it I heard sirens and it seemed like they never faded but just stopped eventually. I was far gone in my thoughts, thinking of a funeral, what I would say, how my husband would react, how empty the world would be, without my oldest. By the end of my run I was almost sobbing and when I realized this I saw how ridiculous I am! How utterly ridiculous! I always leave something and come back thinking that a doom bomb is going to hit.

When I lived in my house in Idaho we lived on a corner lot. If I went shopping and I had to drive by my house I would always look at it to make sure it was not "burning down". For years whenever I would leave the house I would tell my husband that if I never made it back home that I loved him.

Whenever I drive to D.C. now (or anywhere far and somewhat dangerous) I think, "this could be it! This could be my day!"

I suppose I have a fearful and fanciful mind.

At any rate, I was relieved to see my boy's shoes thrown on the entry way floor (I am never happy to see that, but I was thinking he could be dead!)---and I guess like Nemo's dad I need to "lighten up." Good grief.

A-Ha!

I knew that if I looked through some of C.S. Lewis' writings I would find that his thoughts on pride were similar to mine (or maybe mine are similar to his! Let me not kid myself! Ha ha!). Read what he says, this is worth your while:

"According to Christian teachers, the essential vice, the utmost evil, is Pride. Unchastity, anger greed, drunkeness, and all that, are mere fleabites in comparison: it was through Pride that the devil became the devil: Pride leads to every other vice: it is the complete anti-God state of mind...."

It keeps getting so good and making me even more uncomfortable as I read! I love it!
Look at this and chew on it:

"If you want to find out how proud you are, the easiest way is to ask yourself, 'How much do I dislike it when other people snub me, or refuse to take any notice of me, or shove their oar in, or patronize me, or show off?' the point is that each person's pride is in competition with everyone else's pride. It is because I wanted to be the big noise at the party that I am so annoyed at someone else being the big noise. Two of a trade never agree. Now what you want is clear is that Pride is essentially competitive--is competitive by its very nature--while the other vices are competitive only, so to speak, by accident. Pride gets no pleasure out of having something, only out of having more of it than the next man. We say that people are proud of being rich, or clever, or good-looking, but they are not. They are proud of being richer, or cleverer, or better-looking than others. If everyone else became equally rich, or clever, or good-looking, there would be nothing to be proud about. It is the comparison that makes you proud: the pleasure of being above the rest. Once the element of competition has gone, pride has gone. That is why I say that Pride is essentially competitive in a way other vices are not. The sexual impulse may drive two men into competition if they both want the same girl. But that is only by accident; they might just as likely have wanted two different kind of girls. But a proud man will take your girl from you, not because he wants her, but just to prove to himself that he is a better man than you. Greed may drive men into competition if there is not enough to go round; but the proud man, even when he has got more than he can possibly want, will try to get still more just to assert his power. Nearly all those evils in the world which people put down to greed or selfishness are really far more the result of pride..."

Self-Love

I don't really want to debate about this, I just wonder what opinions are. I think that behind every "type" of sin (hatred, fear, worry, doubt,lying, etc.) self-love (or what I call pride) is behind it all. I tend to think it all springs from "I think I am the center of the universe, don't cross me," type thing. I think we were born in sin thinking this way (those of you with children, look at them, it is evident).

For example, if I lie to someone and tell them that my hair is my natural color, I have the motive of wanting people to think I am what I view as perfect. It boosts my ego, pets my pride. That is a silly example, but it is true. I think as small and minute it gets (the sin) the more it points to the self love that is behind it all.

Look at Satan.

Look at Eve who, at the prospect of being like God if she ate the fruit disobeyed. Disobedience springs from self-love. "Don't tell me what to do, I know better!"

Whenever I say this to someone (and I have not said it much) they always seem surprised. What is so radical about that? Mindi, I know you have a ton of wisdom on this! Take it on! :)

Let's Get in "Tune" With our Emotions!

I was watching a tiny snippet yesterday of a woman teacher on TBN (I can't remember who she was but she seemed nice enough and had a Southern accent---blonde. I think I have seen her on other shows with a husband talking about marriage)who was pretty much telling a man audience that women need stability from them. She started to make an analogy of "you could bring your wife into a brand new mansion of her dreams and I guarantee you the first few days she is going to cry. I know you would think, 'I provided all this stuff for you, even the mansion of your dreams and you are upset!' I tell you, don't be upset at her, she just needs you to put her arms around her and assure her that this will take adjustments and she will need to support you at this time...women are like this."

Umm, spoiled women are like this. Going to cry over moving into a huge mansion? I would cry over the idea of cleaning the whole thing myself every Wednesday, that is what I would cry about!---Not over moving into a mansion and I "just can't cope with the change of it." I think real women are adaptable women, not a bunch of whinny, sobby, over-emotional wrecks that cry over an overload of riches. That is ridiculous.
Where is God in this story?
Cry for the many homeless people in this world that would take a few feet of the floor of your mansion to live on!

Lots of venom, I know, sorry.

Commercials

The kids were watching a television show. Some commercial was on where some guy's voice was beckoning my children to watch "Sabrina the Teenage Witch". Of course, this is a show that they can not watch, so as this guy was saying stuff like, "Don't miss out on Sabrina! She is wily and wonderful! Give her a chance and watch her at three!" or something like that, the kids started to talk back to the guy and say, "No, that's a bad show! We can't watch it!" --- my oldest.
My daughter says, "No way!" or something like that,
and my middle child says, (this is crude)"No! Are you crazy? I can't watch it! I go poop at that time!"

Typical male?

Thanksgiving Afterthoughts

This morning I decided to *not* pull out the books and let the kids have another day off of school (I know, I am strict). While at breakfast the kids were discussing yesterday, Thanksgiving. I can't even remember what my oldest said. Something about the food, I think. Perhaps the turkey and how he loved it and how he loved drinking pop all day. I think that sounds right. My youngest (the girl) said that she loved her new friend Joannella (who came to eat with us) because she is so beautiful and she plays dolls so well, etc. etc. My middle boy said, "I really liked Thanksgiving. I liked it 87%." He can't give me a straight answer why it is exactly 87%, he just says stuff like, well, it is almost 90.

I had put out almonds in a dish among other snacks and appetizers. I think he ate the whole dish. He did not know he liked almonds at first, he just kept eating them. He told me after the first few that he only liked almonds about 45%. I said, "you hate them that much?" He says, "No, I love them 45%. That's a lot." OK. Later that evening I saw him sneak another almond in his mouth and I said, "Really liking those almonds, eh?"
"Yes, Mom. I think I love them 95%. I hated them a little at first, but now I love them a lot!"

His percents in the positive are "love it" and his percents in the negative are "hate it" So if he loved Thanksgiving 87% that would mean he hated it 13%. I wonder what he hated?

Thanksgiving

This Thanksgiving turned out well, I thought. It is the first time in seven years that I have been able to sit next to my husband while eating a Thanksgiving dinner, and I am thankful for that. I have the greatest husband alive. His past job required him to work 12 hour shifts holiday or no holiday so I often spent Christmas or Thanksgiving (always) without him. I am glad he was present during the Thanksgiving where I made the whole meal (which I have never done before and have always wanted to). It was really fun and everything turned out great(except for the gravy--but thankfully, I did not need gravy because the turkey was not dry!!), so I am thankful for that as well. I think it was an overall good time with friends from church. I am so happy that we were able to spend this time with them. It was probably boring, but my husband and I are pretty low key. Mr. Wilhelm did say when they left, "In retrospect, I think we should have played games or something." I laughed and said, "what? scrabble? We have no games! I was just happy with good conversation." And that we had.

Thoughtful Entry

Here is a great blog entry by a friend from church. The thoughts seem to be based a lot on this past week's sermon by our pastor, Dan Claire, which is great because I totally missed the whole thing. I was downstairs with the kids (which I absolutely adored doing---I never knew how much I missed it!). Give it a read if you haven't already.

Little Teacher

My oldest son (who is nine) is quite a Christian. Everything is plainly black and white to him. A few days ago, as is his custom, he pulled out his Mayo Medical Manual for a little light reading at breakfast. As I was putting the bread in the toaster I said, "Hey, what are you reading about in there?"

"Oh, well, I am really interested in suicide. It tells a lot about it in here. It says that a person is usually full of grief...then it says there is really no cure for grief..but that is silly...these people should just pray to Jesus! He is the cure, Right Mom?!"

"You are absolutely right," I said.

"Yeah, Mom. I don't get how these people don't know this stuff. These people that wrote this must not believe in Jesus!" He shakes his head shamefully.

When I told my husband this he had to laugh. He is the one who stated later that he thinks so black and white. He really does. He then told me that every Sunday at church during any time of the service he is wiping away tears (sometimes several times a service). Mr. Wilhelm has asked what he is crying about and he says that he doesn't really know, he just cries.

I have a lot to learn from my son. I can be icy, unfeeling and unmoved when the Spirit is present. Sure, there are many times when I am moved to tears during a service, but this child proves to me that a child-like faith is better than mine. I am sure our Lord delights in children who believe in Him. Everyone knows it says that we must become like little children. I am my son's teacher in so many ways but definitely in this way he is mine.

Austen Fan Bliss

My results from the quiz:



The Mansfield Park type: Another under-represented
and misunderstood type, these people are
serious-minded and not afraid to stand up for
their principles. They admire others who do the
same. Possessing a bit of a protective streak,
they are ever-ready to defend their
unfortunately oft-abused heroine, and have
inexplicably never had the urge to hit Edmund
over the head with a 2 x 4 (okay, maybe that's
just me...:-D).


Jane Austen novel quiz
brought to you by Quizilla

Running in the Rain

I just got back from what else but running in the rain. I have only done this a few times. I love the rain, I absolutely love it. I got pretty drenched, but it was worth it. A good run too. I am getting better at those hills.

The rain always makes me think of my husband who is fond of it as well. I remember before I dated him I saw him enter a house (I was inside the house) with a raincoat on. When someone commented on the "nasty weather" he said that he loved the rain. In my boldness (as some friends would say) I said (really without thinking) "Oh man, you are scoring points!"

Rain brings us all together. I can feel the love. Right on.

Pride and Prejudice

Two friends of mine from church accompanied me to see Pride and Prejudice last night. We were late because it was impossible to find a parking space---it took us 20 minutes. I can't believe the amount of people that go to the movies in Fairfax. It was a Friday night, but it is sad how many people live for the weekend. I think it is kind of a sad existence.

Anyway, we came in late, but that didn't matter much to me, I know the story fairly well, so it didn't effect me much. My friends and I all had to sit in seperate seats (none together) so that was the first time I have ever sat alone in a theatre. It was quite funny because I was really in front and I spotted two seats and went down the aisle (saying "excuse me, excuse me") and finally I get to the seats and these young people are just making out like crazy. The lady two seats down said, "they have been doing that ever since the movie started and it is so gross!" I think they heard her, but they kept going. They had some of their stuff on one of the seats I wanted to snatch, so I tapped the guy on the shoulder (he was closest to me) and with a "smack" he was like, "huh?" and I said, "is this seat taken?"
"Uhhh, no."
"Thank you."
The really embarrassing thing is that the lady two seats down (I ended up sitting next to her and my friends found other seats not knowing what I was doing) kept talking about it and congratulating me on my boldness. The people could hear her, I am sure. I wanted to smack her. She kept making noises and commenting on the movie like a regular spectator THE WHOLE TIME. She squealed when squealing could be called for (I guess) and made grunts and noises of disapproval for characters she disdained, and she was over all annoying. I am darned tooting sure that if there was something sad that happened she would be a bawling mess. I am sure she would have wiped her nose on me too.

So, the movie was good, I thought. Like a friend said, it was full of sexual tension and focused much on Mr. Darcy. I particularly liked the scene where Mr. Darcy proposes to Elizabeth in the rain. I know that is not how it happens, but it was just better. My friend Catherine who went with me said that the movie had a big splash of Bronte in it, which I thought a very notable comment. I agree. I think that is why I really liked it. I thought the cinematography was really great---although I really did not like a mistake I saw in the film---when Elizabeth was dancing with Mr. Darcy I could see Keira Knightly's earpiece (so she can hear her lines in a commotion or something). She looked like she had a growth in her ear, and I totally missed most of that dialogue looking at her ear in disgust.
I thought it was good, yes. A little too cheesy/romantic at the end, but no one dies in every movie, right? Elizabeth is not about to throw herself in a weir or anything. I would be dreaming and Jane Austen would roll over in her grave.

Coldplay

I am really sickened. I went to go buy Coldplay tickets two hours after the sale (on accident) and now all they have left are nosebleed seats for 56 dollars a piece. I prefer not to see Chris Martin as a speck in the distance. I may as well dim the lights at home and just play the cd. I am spoiled though because the last tour I got fourth row seats and now that Coldplay is so huge it is like trying to get a good ticket at a U2 concert. Impossible.
The really frustrating thing is that we are members of their website and for both visits to our area they never "randomly selected" us for a presale that they have for the fans. If we were randomly selected, it would cost us $80 anyway (a piece) which is nuts.
Anyone who has tickets to give away for free post away. I would be your friend forever.

Literature

Well, I am going to go see Pride and Prejudice tonight with a friend from church. I actually enjoy this story by Austen and maybe Persuasion (and a few others were ok) but I am not a crazy Austen fan. I think she is too flighty, a bit too petty, and somewhat snobby. I tried reading Emma this past spring and I just could not finish it. I thought Emma was so snobbish that I was not interested in her at all. I still have not seen the movie and I am sure I am missing out.

I was talking to a friend the other night and we were discussing literature. She was confessing to me that she is not an Austen fan either and she loves Bronte and Dostoyevsky.I do think the divide is there with Austen fans and non-Austen fans. I am right there. I have read some Bronte (I enjoyed Jane Eyre and Vilette and Wuthering Heights by Emily) and I have read a few things by Dostoyevsky, and I love him as well. I love the dark side of literature---I think the side that makes you think a little more. I don't see a lot of literary symbols in Austen, just a sort of romantic fluff. But perhaps I am wrong. My pet author is Hardy, so if any of you know of Thomas Hardy you will know why I am not too keen on Austen. I can't even begin to describe Hardy to you if you have never read him. He is full of irony, tragedy, and nothing ever goes right. He is a bit hard to read at first (he is noted as the "King of Description") but I find his descriptions so full of all those things you have tried to say but have never had the words. The Return of the Native is my favorite novel by this man. I went through a period (a number of years ago) when I just wanted to read his stuff and I read all the novels. I am just finishing up all the short stories now.

I think the best thing I like about Hardy is the fact that he knew women. He loved women and he knew them. He depicted them perfectly. When I read about Eustacia Vye (from ROTN) I saw myself. I think that is what good literature is---it is real, not fake. An author who has the ability to express things correctly to an audience obviously outside himself is a gifted person. I think Hardy is that man. A true artist. But that is my opinion.


So all you rabid Austen fans don't bite me. Just accept me, ok, I am really a nice person.

One of a Kind Kiddie Game

I just caught my two boys playing what they call, "The Not Sinning Game" in which one does horrible things (like hitting, kicking, name calling) to the other and the other has to react in a non-sinful manner. I thought, well, that is funny.

I found my oldest pounding on my youngest boys' arm while my youngest boy just smiled and tried to think of something hilarious to do to "lose on purpose" because that is "more fun."

What kind of game is that?



We also bit the bullet and got cable installed today (to my sadness) but Thanksgiving is not the same when you can barely see the football players on the t.v. screen, now is it? I would rather watch a Twilight Zone marathon. Not that that is bad.

So, my oldest son is visibly happy that we have cable now. He was sitting at the school table this morning as the cable guy was installing and he said, "You know Mom, it's nice that we are getting cable, but I really am happy with the way our old TV was too!" He does this. He always wants to prove to me that he is happy with what he has. At the moment he is watching Tom and Jerry and laughing his rear end off.

Ugh. I hate TV. Gotta go run up those incredible hills for a spell!

Popcorn and Prejudice

The other night I was exhausted. My husband sits down next to me on our bed (we were both reading---does his laptop count?) and he talks about how horribly he made popcorn the night before. I was gone, so I couldn't make it for him. "Oh, man, Rachel, it was awful. It was the most awful popcorn I have ever had!"

I said, "I get the hint. You want me to make you some popcorn."

"Well, you do make it the best. I can't go back."

Oh brother.

I have posted about this already. It really is a recurring thing with us though. I don't mind at all making the popcorn, but he is using his Minnesotan parents' tricks (they used to claim he made popcorn the best when he was a kid----apparently not, because I do, eh?) to get me downstairs cranking the whirly pop or plugging in the popper.

It works every time too.

I waltzed down there and made it thinking all the while, "I make the best popcorn!"

Come on over sometime, you guys, and have the best popcorn of your life at my house. Mr. Wilhelm swears by it. Really, it's not that good.

Horrid Metal

Jewelry freaks me out. I hate metal on my skin. Or any ornament, for that matter. I tolerate my wedding ring (I had a hard time at first, but now I am used to it), but other than that I hate jewelry.

Someone sent a list to me a few weeks ago talking about how great it is to be a woman and how we don't regret all these things. One of the things was piercing the ears. I regret that. Only because now I just have little dimples in my ears and not actual holes. I don't want holes anyway. I would rather they closed up totally.

Before Mr. Wilhelm and I got engaged we went to a jewelry store to look at diamond engagement rings. I warned the man that I did not care for one, but he thought I was just being nice and cheap or something. I don't think he had a clue how much those things cost anyway. I stood there looking at a bunch of clear rocks totally uninterested and baffled at the price. I would have to pay thousands of dollars to put something detestible on my skin! No way! I imagined turning over in bed one night getting the rock stuck in my nose. Even worse. I begged him to be rid of the idea that I wanted a diamond ring and told him to just get me a band if he ever knew what was right for him. I thought it funny though when I did get engaged (I have two bands---one wedding, one engagement) how people would ask to "see" my ring and I would show them my band just as happy as anyone else.

So, my daughter is hanging out with her Aunt and her Aunt gets all generous and gives her all this jewelry and stuff. While my daughter is in metal heaven, I am in metal hell. Imagine how I have to pick this stuff up. It literally makes me want to throw up, I am that weird about it. I am not picking it up anymore. If I have to I will vacuum the stuff up.

So, we will not get on the subject of coinage. All of you who know me, just don't mention this stuff when I am eating. Really disturbing.

Groceries and "Black Powdery Stuff"

I have gotten started late this morning. I had a ton of email. The kids are still upstairs playing or something, I am sure they are not sleeping. My oldest complained yesterday that he has "black stuff" in his throat and it feels "powdery". He further said, "I think I have a sore throat." I said, "Well, we don't have to do math, but you have to do your other subjects."
He said, "I thought you would say that."

He later said, "I think I am feeling a little better and I want to go on break outside."
"Really?" I asked, "Then I suppose that we could work on your math lesson after break, eh?"
"Well, I am still feeling a bit powdery in my throat."
"That's what I thought."
So, we just sat around inside (big shock) and did a bunch of nothing. I didn't. I cleaned my house and did all the usual. There is always bucketfuls of laundry to do.

Today, however, is grocery day. You know the routine. It consists of my trying to purchase a great number of food items while trying to keep my children next to me. It also consists of trying to convince other people that these children that I am so desperately trying to keep beside me are MINE. Ugh. Here we go again. Maybe we will have yet another amusing story tomorrow.

So, I am not sure if I will school today or not. I have not seen the black powdery pirate yet. I know, it is late in the morning too. It will be a crazy day, I tell you, a crazy day.

Bit on the Bottom

One night my youngest boy asks me in the car (I think it was the same night we went out to dinner), "Mom, do you hate taking care of us?"

"No," I said, "I love taking care of you, but sometimes I am selfish and want my own way and then I get upset and then I act like I hate taking care of you. Why do you ask that?"

"Oh, just sometimes you yell and stuff."

"Yeah, well that is when I am being sinful and selfish."

"Oh, ok."

A couple days pass.

Heaven forbid I feed my youngest daughter FOOD. She is wimpering and whining, the usual. Does not want to eat. I can't even remember what it was. She starts saying stuff and then starts to cry. She says, "Mom, you're being so mean to me!"

"Why? Because I want you to be healthy and feed your body? Because I told you to eat your food?"

"Yes."

My oldest boy says (apparently he was listening that fateful night in the car---BIG SHOCK), "(my daughter's name)---Mom is just being selfish right now. She wants her own way, right Mom?"

These posts are looking more and more like a Family Circle comic strip.

Eleysium

This post on my husband's blog really bothered me. Look at "Sad but True" and give the link a read.

The Millionth Time

Since I have moved here I have been bombarded with ejaculations of surprise over the fact that I have three kids. It happens CONTINUALLY. I mean, every time I go out. Last night my husband and I decided to take the kids out to dinner and we arrived in separate cars. As the kids and I were waiting for Dad to pull up, an older gentleman pulls up and looks at me and peers in wonder. He says the typical, "These aren't yours, are they?"

By now I just say, "Yeah."

"Really?" Wide-eyed.

"Yep."

He points at my oldest (who is almost as big as me, by the way) who is sitting on the other side of the bench. "Even him?"

"Yep."

"You don't look nearly old enough."

"Well, I am."

"Really?"

"Yep."

This happens all the time. No one believes me. They act like I must be ten or something.

I get funny with the responses. Last night I was just tired. I did not feel like coming up with anything fun to say. I like to say, "believe me, I pumped them out, each one of them!"
or, "Well, no, I am not really old enough."
Or my personal favorite, "Yes, they are mine. Yes, I am young. I was a child and then I had children."
I should think of more. It really becomes monotonous in my life, this trying to convince people that the kids are mine. This one lady at the grocery store asked me about ten times over and over to the point where I almost lifted my shirt to show her my stretch marks.

The deal is that no one my age or under thirty has kids here. They all have careers or are students. I say "here" because it is true of this particular geographical location. It is not true, however, where I am from, like Idaho or somewhere less expensive to live or something. So, I will just surrender to the fact that people think I am too young! It will be nice when my kids are out of the house when I am 41. What to do?

Ghosts

Let me intrigue you with how my oldest talks:

Tonight the kids were rough housing. They were crawling around and pretending they were various animals, you know the routine. My oldest is absolutely obsessed with this Pac Man shirt he got from Target. It has three ghosts on it and it is way too big for him. In fact, it looks akin to a dress, but he doesn't care. He first saw this shirt in some run down Mc Donald's in some dumpy Virginia town on the way back from Chincoteague Island. Some punk kid was wearing it and my oldest was like, "That is the coolest shirt I have ever seen!" Mr. Wilhelm has instilled a love of Atari games in our son apparently. Anyway, we were at a Target and he saw it and of course, he begged me like nothing else for the stinking shirt. So, he wears this thing constantly. He reserves it in his drawer after wearing it the previous day and then pulls it out to wear. It gets stains on it, he wipes his mouth on it I am sure, and when it does get washed he puts that thing on as fast as he can. If any of you know me, that is how I was with my Wonder Woman shirt when I was a kid. I can relate to this. So as you may well imagine he is wearing the thing as I type.
Well, like I said, the kids were rough housing. My oldest comes up to me in great haste and concern and says between short breaths, "Mom! They were pulling my shirt! Look!" He turns around to show me how it is slightly pulled up around the collar. He continues to say, "Did they inflict damage!?"

Roll Back America

Does anyone feel guilty shopping at Wal-mart but shops there sometimes anyway because you know the prices are so low it would be wiser for your wallet?

We had this discussion last night at small group (it was not part of the lesson or anything). We have a lot of political people at our small group, so we really can't get away from that kind of discussion. I pretty much know nothing about politics, but feel horrible about Wal-mart. I think it is good and all that because it provides jobs, but of course, it closes down the local small stores, etc. etc. My pastor was saying that places like Wal-mart and Disney (I am really paraphrasing) start to shape our society----it's like they have jumpstarted a new culture. I hate it, now that I look at it.

I feel like that mean dad on speed racer that loathes cars and refuses to drive them so he rides a horse around instead. I am just not gutsy enough to ride the horse. ---So I feel guilty when I drive the car!

The Verve Reborn

I just put in one of my favorite CDs today by a band called The Shore. They sound so similar to The Verve that it is crazy. If you don't know who they are they have a song on the radio called "Hard Road" and I can't remember what the other single is.

It is funny how I discovered them. I was on my way home from picking up Liam's glasses (almost a year ago now) and I heard them on the radio. I thought, "My goodness, this sounds like the Verve!" Thankfully the jockey stated who they were. In fact, I think that was the first play they had on the station, if I remember right.

The really hilarious thing is that they are NOT from England, which is a little bit disappointing, but great because hey, I wish I were British too.

I think they are from L.A. Go figure. I'm from Cali too.

You Know, All That Crazy Stuff

Dinner with my kids can be hilarious sometimes when I am not on their backs to stop talking with food in their mouths or to use their napkin. For some reason last night they were arguing (the boys were) about whether "girls rule" or "boys rule". I know, stupid, but this is what kids talk about. My oldest (he is nine) argued that they "both rule" because they have different functions. He continued to say, "Well, don't get me wrong or anything, I kind of like girls, but I don't care about getting married or sex or any of that crazy stuff."

As you may well imagine, I almost choked.

I did a sort of double take like, "What did you say?" He repeated it. He did ask at one time what sex meant (a long time ago---he loves to read medical manuals) , but he used the word so casually. It was hilarious.

He continued to say, "Yeah, and I'm not going to be one of those teenagers who have posters of girls on their walls either!"

I said, "Where did you get that from?"

He said, "Oh, I don't know, I just know that for some reason."

I said, "Well, that is lust anyway and I would not allow it."

My youngest son said, "Yeah, it would be funny if real girls were hanging from the walls!" Then he proceeded to imitate a girl hanging from a wall saying, "help me!" in a falsetto. He realized what I had said just then. He said, "What is lust?"

I said, "Lust is wanting something you can't have."

So my oldest son said, "Yeah, like, you know, the lust of the flesh!"

I about died.

Local Career Women

It is really strange. I go to a church where there are countless career women----or at least women who are single with no families of their own. They have degrees---lots work on the Hill, or write, or do something crazy that I would never dream of myself doing. This is what happens after the dream of completing college. Last night I was singing at a benefit concert and we had a lady come from my bible study to babysit. We all got into a conversation with her once we were home and my husband asked her what she really wanted to do (since her job is not exactly what she wants). I was surprised at her answer. She said that she wants to be a mom. I know of a few more ladies that have this same dream. It is just funny how blessed I am---how my position in life could be a dreamlife to others.