You may have noticed this comment on the last post:
Julana said...
Dear Dorcas,Would you mind being tagged for a book meme?The questions are:Total books owned, ever:Last book I bought:Last book I read:Five books that mean a lot to me:
Tag five people:
A humble reader.
I had no idea who Julana is but I tracked her back a bit to find that she is a mom from Ohio with a blog called Life in the Slow Lane.
However, I still have no idea how to pronounce "meme" or what it means.
But I’ll take her challenge:
Total books owned, ever: thousands
Last book I bought: a bagful at this cool book fair in Virginia including: The Biggest Bear (2 copies, for gifts. One of the best kids’ books ever), Prisoners of Hope, The Story of Booker T. Washington, Strawberry Shortcake, Ten Stupid Things Women Do to Mess up Their Relationships by Dr. Laura Schlessinger
(Or wait, was it the other bagful I bought at Powells in Portland when Lois and I went up there on the train: The Very Hungry Caterpillar, an old book of fairy tales, a Bodie Thoene book to complete a set, a Mitford book, and I can’t remember what else)
Last book I read: Probably something like Dr. Seuss’s The Foot Book "Left foot, left foot, left foot, right. Feet in the morning, feet at night.")
Five books that mean a lot to me: How about 5 authors I keep going back to: Elisabeth Elliot, L.M. Montgomery, Garrison Keillor, James Herriott, Erma Bombeck
I always re-read James Herriott when I have the flu so I had a good dose of him this winter.
Tag five people: Um, naaaah. I’m too new at blogging to know if it’s good manners to tag.
I have strong opinions about books and authors, especially those in the Christian subculture. Honestly, if we Christians are ever going to move our message into the world Out There we have to get beyond how-to-improve-your-life books and poorly written fiction and produce quality that can compete with what’s out there. (Yes, yes, I’m trying to do my part.)
There are all these non-fiction (essentially how-to) books that people are always recommending to me but most of them fail to grab me by the collar and pull me inside, so I find better things to do with my time, which makes me feel very unspiritual. But shouldn’t an author earn the right to be read??
Yay for John Eldredge, the Schaeffers, Elisabeth Elliott.
Nay for Beverly Lewis. No Amish person I have ever known said "ever so nice" or "ever so pretty" or "ever so anything." Ever. I waded painfully through one of her latest books and a thousand "ever so’s" just to see how the story ended and then it didn’t even end there. It ended something like 5 books later. So Amy read all the books and told me what happened. (To my fiction-lovin’ friends: you don’t have to agree with me, you know. Sharon, you can keep fillin’ them bookshelves ever so full of fiction if that’s what makes you happy. And then my daughters can borrow them and I don’t have to buy them myself.)
Quote of the Day:
"I think I'm going to hate the lower-case "k" letter for the rest of my life."
--Emily, battling with her last few math lessons in proportions, inverse proportions, and how to find and use a constant (k)
Monday, June 06, 2005
Saturday, June 04, 2005
Times of Refreshing
Here’s official proof that Paul is the Nicest Guy—he took Ben and Steven on a two-night canoe trip. Thursday evening Matt drove them down Coburg Road to the McKenzie River. They put in there, went a few miles, and then camped for the night.
Yesterday they merged into the Willamette and Jenny and I met them when they came by Harrisburg, since Paul had forgotten his jacket and Jenny was sure he had forgotten to hug her when he left. It looked so cool, these three guys paddling down the river, like the Lewis and Clark expedition. (Did you know there was one black guy on the L&C Exp.? William Clark’s slave I think. And when they reached the Oregon Coast they voted about how long to stay there or something and the black guy got to vote along with the rest, supposedly a first in American history.)(This is what comes of being married to the principal and getting to preview films at OMSI.)
Last night they camped on the riverbank behind Don Smith’s place and today they hope to make it to Albany. They had hoped for Salem but it would take too long.
Meanwhile. The house is occupied by gentle female creatures who do not go pounding through like a herd of migrating wildebeests and by Matt who is as elusive and quiet as the leopard we barely saw in the Nakuru Game Park. The silence is lovely. The kitchen floor stays clean for an hour after I mop it. I can get up at 7:00 and have an hour and a half of peace and quiet.
So, a round of applause for my husband.
The cherry on top of this restful experience was another Girls’ Night Out last evening. Among many other things, we learned that one woman has strong opinions about where she will be buried, most of us don’t care where we’re buried, and another sister doesn’t want to be buried at all because the thought gives her claustrophobia. "Cremate me. Or just lay me out in the woods."
I tell you, there’s nothing quite like a night out with the girls.
Quote of the Day:
"Do you really want the birds eating you up?"
--husband of ‘another sister’
Yesterday they merged into the Willamette and Jenny and I met them when they came by Harrisburg, since Paul had forgotten his jacket and Jenny was sure he had forgotten to hug her when he left. It looked so cool, these three guys paddling down the river, like the Lewis and Clark expedition. (Did you know there was one black guy on the L&C Exp.? William Clark’s slave I think. And when they reached the Oregon Coast they voted about how long to stay there or something and the black guy got to vote along with the rest, supposedly a first in American history.)(This is what comes of being married to the principal and getting to preview films at OMSI.)
Last night they camped on the riverbank behind Don Smith’s place and today they hope to make it to Albany. They had hoped for Salem but it would take too long.
Meanwhile. The house is occupied by gentle female creatures who do not go pounding through like a herd of migrating wildebeests and by Matt who is as elusive and quiet as the leopard we barely saw in the Nakuru Game Park. The silence is lovely. The kitchen floor stays clean for an hour after I mop it. I can get up at 7:00 and have an hour and a half of peace and quiet.
So, a round of applause for my husband.
The cherry on top of this restful experience was another Girls’ Night Out last evening. Among many other things, we learned that one woman has strong opinions about where she will be buried, most of us don’t care where we’re buried, and another sister doesn’t want to be buried at all because the thought gives her claustrophobia. "Cremate me. Or just lay me out in the woods."
I tell you, there’s nothing quite like a night out with the girls.
Quote of the Day:
"Do you really want the birds eating you up?"
--husband of ‘another sister’
Thursday, June 02, 2005
More Jenny Stories
In case you haven't yet had your fill of Jenny stories you can head over to Matt's blog or Amy's.
P.S. Oops! I guess I haven't figured out links after all. To read Matt or Amy's blogs, go into the comments to Hans Mast's and connect there.
Quote of the Day:
"Oh puh-leeze. Nice try. Ha-ha! Goodbye."
--Ben, dealing with another telemarketer
P.S. Oops! I guess I haven't figured out links after all. To read Matt or Amy's blogs, go into the comments to Hans Mast's and connect there.
Quote of the Day:
"Oh puh-leeze. Nice try. Ha-ha! Goodbye."
--Ben, dealing with another telemarketer
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
A Typical Episode
Why does this sort of thing always happen to me?
So, we all know how much I enjoy shopping with two children to start with, and then they don’t have any good sandals Steven’s size at Walmart and traffic is terrible and it keeps raining and then when I’m all worn out we end the day at WinCo where my 250-pound shopping cart keeps shocking us every time we touch it.
So, I shriek every time I get zapped and it is driving me crazy, so Steven being a True Son gets this wicked grin on his face and zaps me on purpose right by the tomato bin. That does it. I put my nose an inch from his and say, "You. Do. Not. Ever. Shock. Me. On. Purpose. Is. That. Clear?"
And just then this nice sweet senior citizen voice comes from right behind me. "Oh, are you by any chance Mrs. Smucker? I saw you here with your children and I just put it together that it must be you. I read your column religiously and I just applaud you for what you do."
Um,gulp, heh heh, yes, that’s me, heh heh heh, thank you so much.
Quote of the Day:
"Does Dad have a really deep belly button? Ben said he does."
--Jenny
So, we all know how much I enjoy shopping with two children to start with, and then they don’t have any good sandals Steven’s size at Walmart and traffic is terrible and it keeps raining and then when I’m all worn out we end the day at WinCo where my 250-pound shopping cart keeps shocking us every time we touch it.
So, I shriek every time I get zapped and it is driving me crazy, so Steven being a True Son gets this wicked grin on his face and zaps me on purpose right by the tomato bin. That does it. I put my nose an inch from his and say, "You. Do. Not. Ever. Shock. Me. On. Purpose. Is. That. Clear?"
And just then this nice sweet senior citizen voice comes from right behind me. "Oh, are you by any chance Mrs. Smucker? I saw you here with your children and I just put it together that it must be you. I read your column religiously and I just applaud you for what you do."
Um,gulp, heh heh, yes, that’s me, heh heh heh, thank you so much.
Quote of the Day:
"Does Dad have a really deep belly button? Ben said he does."
--Jenny
Monday, May 30, 2005
Deadline
I have my monthly article due tomorrow so I am of course in Desperation mode, having been occupied with Irene's funeral and Amy's graduation this month, neither of which lend themselves to having time and energy to write.
So today, when others were happily relaxing on the holiday, I had my nose to the keyboard.
By this time tomorrow I hope to be all done and have that huge sense of relief that makes it all worthwhile.
Quote of the Day:
"This last kind of deodorant I got is Christian deodorant. It doesn't work on Sundays."
--anonymous friend of Emily's
So today, when others were happily relaxing on the holiday, I had my nose to the keyboard.
By this time tomorrow I hope to be all done and have that huge sense of relief that makes it all worthwhile.
Quote of the Day:
"This last kind of deodorant I got is Christian deodorant. It doesn't work on Sundays."
--anonymous friend of Emily's
Thursday, May 26, 2005
Steven and the Birds
Steven has this amazing way with birds.
If you peruse the new BMS yearbook you will see a picture of Steven at the zoo with about five parroty-looking birds perched on his head, shoulders, and arms. He just somehow charmed them, the others said.
Yesterday Russell finished siding the house (WOO-HOO!!) and in the process flushed out a nest of half-grown starlings from the porch rafters or somewhere. Apparently he suggested to Steven that he make pets out of them which would have been perfectly ok except that Steven took this as license to take them into the house.
I entered the story at this point when I heard this commotion* in the living room and rushed in to find Steven chasing after two birds that were fluttering in opposite directions. He looked guilty and frazzled, and I’m afraid I blew a gasket when I found out what he was up to.
Steven and the birds were promptly dispatched outside. He managed to keep them on the porch, and dug a bucket of dirt in the garden and dug through for worms to feed them. I am not one to appreciate birds in the living room or worms on the porch so this was all kind of a trial to me.
Anyway, back to this kid’s amazing way with birds, I looked out at one point and he was sitting on the porch swing, bent forward, with one bird on his head and one on his back. All three just sat there quietly for a long time.
Later, Steven told me that the birds were screaming so he told them to calm down, and they did.
If I can survive Matt’s science experiments and Emily’s painting messes and Jenny’s nonstop chatter, I suppose I can survive this as well. And if Steven is a famous veterinarian someday, he’d better thank me.
* “commotion” at our house is probably “complete pandemonium” at yours; “commotion” at your house is probably “mere background noise” at ours
Quote of the Day:
“Do you need a campaign before you can have a press conference?”
--Jenny, who must be a typical non-voting but consumed-with-politics Mennonite
If you peruse the new BMS yearbook you will see a picture of Steven at the zoo with about five parroty-looking birds perched on his head, shoulders, and arms. He just somehow charmed them, the others said.
Yesterday Russell finished siding the house (WOO-HOO!!) and in the process flushed out a nest of half-grown starlings from the porch rafters or somewhere. Apparently he suggested to Steven that he make pets out of them which would have been perfectly ok except that Steven took this as license to take them into the house.
I entered the story at this point when I heard this commotion* in the living room and rushed in to find Steven chasing after two birds that were fluttering in opposite directions. He looked guilty and frazzled, and I’m afraid I blew a gasket when I found out what he was up to.
Steven and the birds were promptly dispatched outside. He managed to keep them on the porch, and dug a bucket of dirt in the garden and dug through for worms to feed them. I am not one to appreciate birds in the living room or worms on the porch so this was all kind of a trial to me.
Anyway, back to this kid’s amazing way with birds, I looked out at one point and he was sitting on the porch swing, bent forward, with one bird on his head and one on his back. All three just sat there quietly for a long time.
Later, Steven told me that the birds were screaming so he told them to calm down, and they did.
If I can survive Matt’s science experiments and Emily’s painting messes and Jenny’s nonstop chatter, I suppose I can survive this as well. And if Steven is a famous veterinarian someday, he’d better thank me.
* “commotion” at our house is probably “complete pandemonium” at yours; “commotion” at your house is probably “mere background noise” at ours
Quote of the Day:
“Do you need a campaign before you can have a press conference?”
--Jenny, who must be a typical non-voting but consumed-with-politics Mennonite
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
The Next Day
Normally, I get up at 6:30a.m. and Paul gets up at 7:00. But this morning we were both awakened at 7:30 by Ben in his school uniform exclaiming, "Aren’t you guys up yet?" Today is his last day of school and I guess he didn’t want to miss it.
The van is still full of graduation gifts, plates of tortilla rounds, and balloons. A huge spray of flowers that graced the front of the church last night now sits incongruously on the kitchen island. Amy the glowing graduate is still sleeping, her lovely agonized-over wine-colored dress no doubt draped limply over the back of a chair.
This is the flip side of the hype and excitement and preparation and pomp and glory: this indescribable fatigue, the letdown, the mess.
This is the cost of celebration. But it was worth it. Amy and the others will never forget that night and how it all came together—the speeches, the clothes, the decorations, the food, the gifts, the people who came to congratulate.
And will someone please, please tell me how that tiny pink little girl I used to have turned so quickly into a young woman getting her diploma?
Quote of the Day:
"It feels like the morning after."
--Paul, shuffling into the living room at 7:40 this morning
The van is still full of graduation gifts, plates of tortilla rounds, and balloons. A huge spray of flowers that graced the front of the church last night now sits incongruously on the kitchen island. Amy the glowing graduate is still sleeping, her lovely agonized-over wine-colored dress no doubt draped limply over the back of a chair.
This is the flip side of the hype and excitement and preparation and pomp and glory: this indescribable fatigue, the letdown, the mess.
This is the cost of celebration. But it was worth it. Amy and the others will never forget that night and how it all came together—the speeches, the clothes, the decorations, the food, the gifts, the people who came to congratulate.
And will someone please, please tell me how that tiny pink little girl I used to have turned so quickly into a young woman getting her diploma?
Quote of the Day:
"It feels like the morning after."
--Paul, shuffling into the living room at 7:40 this morning
Monday, May 23, 2005
More Poetry
“More poetry in the Shoe,” said Tom, way back when.
Ok, here’s some more.
The Nigglenile
By Jenny, age 6
The Prince and Princess lived quite a while
But soon were killed by the Nigglenile!
Soon they had a new princess and prince
And they were killed by the Nigglenile for days aglince.
They had a new prince and princess
And the Nigglenile tried to kill them.
They climbed up a tree
So they could be safe and thee
So the whole kingdom lived happily ever after.
* * *
My Cold
By Emily, age 14
My nose just keeps on twinge-ing up.
It makes strange sounds like sniffer snuff.
My eyes are filling up with tears,
I told my cold, “Now that’s enough!”
* * *
Mom’s Saturday Lament
(Sung to the tune of Day by Day. Use sparingly for maximum effect (guilt, we hope).)
Why can’t this house stay clean for just one day?
Oh how I wish it wouldn’t be this way.
I vacuum, dust, and scrub and clean some more;
I turn around, it’s like it was before.
Help me Lord, to keep the right perspective
My children will be grown and gone someday.
I’ll miss them in moments when I’m reflective,
But oh how nice to have it clean to stay!
Quote of the Day:
"Sorry we do not have a TV and I realize that there's only 2% of the population that doesn't have a TV so bye."
--Ben the stats guy, dealing with a telemarketer
Ok, here’s some more.
The Nigglenile
By Jenny, age 6
The Prince and Princess lived quite a while
But soon were killed by the Nigglenile!
Soon they had a new princess and prince
And they were killed by the Nigglenile for days aglince.
They had a new prince and princess
And the Nigglenile tried to kill them.
They climbed up a tree
So they could be safe and thee
So the whole kingdom lived happily ever after.
* * *
My Cold
By Emily, age 14
My nose just keeps on twinge-ing up.
It makes strange sounds like sniffer snuff.
My eyes are filling up with tears,
I told my cold, “Now that’s enough!”
* * *
Mom’s Saturday Lament
(Sung to the tune of Day by Day. Use sparingly for maximum effect (guilt, we hope).)
Why can’t this house stay clean for just one day?
Oh how I wish it wouldn’t be this way.
I vacuum, dust, and scrub and clean some more;
I turn around, it’s like it was before.
Help me Lord, to keep the right perspective
My children will be grown and gone someday.
I’ll miss them in moments when I’m reflective,
But oh how nice to have it clean to stay!
Quote of the Day:
"Sorry we do not have a TV and I realize that there's only 2% of the population that doesn't have a TV so bye."
--Ben the stats guy, dealing with a telemarketer
Friday, May 20, 2005
Black Band-aids
You know, they really ought to make black band-aids. Steven has had a sore on his nose for the last few days and a normal "flesh" colored bandage stands out like a neon green one on mine. This morning I colored a band-aid black with a magic marker, which was an improvement but far from perfect.
When we were in Kenya we noticed that not even there did they have black bandaids. Why not? Was it because only the white Westerners used band-aids? Strange.
I did a bit of hunting on the internet today and found a few links. One was a story by an African-American wondering this same thing—why aren’t there any black band-aids? This person noted that you can get NFL bandaids, Smurf band-aids, neon pink band-aids, and flesh-colored band-aids, but not black or dark brown. He/she also noted that they don’t recall ever meeting anyone with skin the color of normal band-aids.
The other link was to a pharmacy that offered brown and black bandaids but was out of order.
Emily thinks when she grows up she’ll make and market black bandaids and make a ton of money.
Quote of the Day:
"I’m not wrestling. I just have my leg over his head."
--Steven, when Ben had asked him to stop and Emily told him he should only wrestle with people who want to wrestle and quit when they ask him to stop. Is this guy learning Real Smucker Logic or what?
When we were in Kenya we noticed that not even there did they have black bandaids. Why not? Was it because only the white Westerners used band-aids? Strange.
I did a bit of hunting on the internet today and found a few links. One was a story by an African-American wondering this same thing—why aren’t there any black band-aids? This person noted that you can get NFL bandaids, Smurf band-aids, neon pink band-aids, and flesh-colored band-aids, but not black or dark brown. He/she also noted that they don’t recall ever meeting anyone with skin the color of normal band-aids.
The other link was to a pharmacy that offered brown and black bandaids but was out of order.
Emily thinks when she grows up she’ll make and market black bandaids and make a ton of money.
Quote of the Day:
"I’m not wrestling. I just have my leg over his head."
--Steven, when Ben had asked him to stop and Emily told him he should only wrestle with people who want to wrestle and quit when they ask him to stop. Is this guy learning Real Smucker Logic or what?
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Drama
Honestly, this is too much drama for one day.
Within the last 24 hours I talked to my sister on the phone and learned that the pastor and the worship leader in their church both resigned, sending huge shock waves through their (huge) church, and everyone is calling her to dump and since they are good friends with the pastor, she and her husband know the Inside Scoop and feel like they are thrust into the middle of the situation even though they are the newcomers on the scene and WHAT are people implying about the role her husband should play in all this??
I also talked to an extended-family member who is in shock because all of a sudden all kinds of wild family secrets are coming out of the woodwork and Aunt Jean isn’t quite who she always seemed to be and an old friend of the family has more significance than she ever dreamed.
Then I talked to my brother who took an overloaded semi over a 16-ton bridge and met a police car about a quarter-mile further and barely managed to save his hide by turning into a Georgia-Pacific distributing center. I’ll grant this doesn’t have the drama of the previous phone call but my brother tells it in such a way that your heart pounds just like his when you "see" that police car turning the corner.
Then there is all the normal drama of life on top of that like a raccoon scattering a bag of trash over the yard, finding out that Steven shared his ice cream cone with Miss Kropf’s dog on Sunday (yes, they took turns licking), sending Ben down to the creek to look for the tent that the ‘middle kids’ set up without asking and that floated away when the creek rose, and sewing Amy’s graduation dress which involves lots of nailbiting drama.
Like I said, it was almost too much for one day. My friend Sharon asked me today if it would work out to get together to have a nervous breakdown some day this week. I’m thinking Friday should do.
Quote of the Day:
"It’s hard, when you have two people that like you, to decide which one to marry."
--Jenny, who has no reason that I know of to worry about this yet
Within the last 24 hours I talked to my sister on the phone and learned that the pastor and the worship leader in their church both resigned, sending huge shock waves through their (huge) church, and everyone is calling her to dump and since they are good friends with the pastor, she and her husband know the Inside Scoop and feel like they are thrust into the middle of the situation even though they are the newcomers on the scene and WHAT are people implying about the role her husband should play in all this??
I also talked to an extended-family member who is in shock because all of a sudden all kinds of wild family secrets are coming out of the woodwork and Aunt Jean isn’t quite who she always seemed to be and an old friend of the family has more significance than she ever dreamed.
Then I talked to my brother who took an overloaded semi over a 16-ton bridge and met a police car about a quarter-mile further and barely managed to save his hide by turning into a Georgia-Pacific distributing center. I’ll grant this doesn’t have the drama of the previous phone call but my brother tells it in such a way that your heart pounds just like his when you "see" that police car turning the corner.
Then there is all the normal drama of life on top of that like a raccoon scattering a bag of trash over the yard, finding out that Steven shared his ice cream cone with Miss Kropf’s dog on Sunday (yes, they took turns licking), sending Ben down to the creek to look for the tent that the ‘middle kids’ set up without asking and that floated away when the creek rose, and sewing Amy’s graduation dress which involves lots of nailbiting drama.
Like I said, it was almost too much for one day. My friend Sharon asked me today if it would work out to get together to have a nervous breakdown some day this week. I’m thinking Friday should do.
Quote of the Day:
"It’s hard, when you have two people that like you, to decide which one to marry."
--Jenny, who has no reason that I know of to worry about this yet
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