Thanks for all your ideas for a column. I ended up writing about New Years resolutions and going to Virginia and how we (I) operate under this delusion that when the calendar changes I can finally get all my ducks in a row and Get It All Right which really isn't the right goal at all if you think about it. If I didn't take your idea don't feel bad, it all helps.
Well if that all sounds a bit feverish it's because it probably is. Not sure I ever wrote a whole column before while running a temperature. I am really really ready to get well.
Meanwhile. Amy the beautiful daughter made it safely to Bible school in Indiana. We miss her already. No wait, Jenny doesn't. I sent a card off today and told Jenny to add her two bits about missing Amy but she refused, writing instead only,' Hi Amy, from Jenny,' because she didn't want to lie.
I have over 50 friends on Facebook so I feel a bit vindicated for my unpopularity in high school but I am not really "into" Facebook. Maybe it'll grow on me.
Matt is back at OSU.
Ben is now 5 feet, 8.5 inches, 3/4 inch more than the last time we lined him up on the kitchen doorway. And we just got Steven a pair of tennies from Goodwill that are size 14 which is one size smaller than Magic Johnson wears and he is 6-feet-9. You learn a lot reading the magazine on the plane.
Just figured out this is my 106th column and you'd think I'd have it all figured out by now, ducks in a row, get it together, sit down and do it. But I don't.
Ok, time for cough syrup, garlic, Vicks, echinacea, Advair, and bed.
P.S. Anonymous tells me I didn't say anything about Emily. oops. Emily is still in Virginia having way too much fun with her aunt and uncle and cousins. And feeling well for the most part.
Quote of the Day:
"What do football and fishing have in common?
They both have tackle in them!"
--Jenny
Monday, January 05, 2009
Sunday, January 04, 2009
Desperation
I got an extension on my article deadline--from Dec. 31 to Jan.6--because of our trip to Virginia. And now that deadline is looming over my head like the about-to-avalanche snow above the pass in Seven Brides for Seven Brothers [that my two daughters just watched with their Aunt Rebecca and I'm jealous] and I can't for the life of me think of anything to write about.
So we went on a trip. And had a great time. And I got sick. And I'm still running a fever and croaking. And it's a new year. And while the trip was great it is also great to be home with our wonderful water and the resultant pot of black tea every morning that is so good surely the angels will serve it in golden teapots in Heaven when I get there. And I got Arlene to teach Sunday School for me this morning and Stephie to do children's meeting for me this evening, and the nice lady from the Home Science Club said I can come speak to them in February instead of tomorrow, since there's not much chance any of them could hear me by tomorrow afternoon plus they'd probably all catch pneumonia from my wretched coughing. And maybe I should just quit writing that crazy column if I don't have anything to say.
However. None of this fits into a theme [of New Beginnings or Life Lessons or Something Profound] or answers the all-important question: So what? And we all know the Letter from Harrisburg has to have a Point and everything tied into a neat bow at the end.
Help me out here--Matt? Amy? Arlene? Somebody??
Emily has a name for this: Mom-On-Day-30 Syndrome.
Sigh.
Quote of the Day:
"Maybe this time you can take out two bushes."
--Steven, as Ben backs the van out the driveway
So we went on a trip. And had a great time. And I got sick. And I'm still running a fever and croaking. And it's a new year. And while the trip was great it is also great to be home with our wonderful water and the resultant pot of black tea every morning that is so good surely the angels will serve it in golden teapots in Heaven when I get there. And I got Arlene to teach Sunday School for me this morning and Stephie to do children's meeting for me this evening, and the nice lady from the Home Science Club said I can come speak to them in February instead of tomorrow, since there's not much chance any of them could hear me by tomorrow afternoon plus they'd probably all catch pneumonia from my wretched coughing. And maybe I should just quit writing that crazy column if I don't have anything to say.
However. None of this fits into a theme [of New Beginnings or Life Lessons or Something Profound] or answers the all-important question: So what? And we all know the Letter from Harrisburg has to have a Point and everything tied into a neat bow at the end.
Help me out here--Matt? Amy? Arlene? Somebody??
Emily has a name for this: Mom-On-Day-30 Syndrome.
Sigh.
Quote of the Day:
"Maybe this time you can take out two bushes."
--Steven, as Ben backs the van out the driveway
Friday, January 02, 2009
Rod, I was wrong
So we were standing on the steps of the Museum of American History, discussing whether or not Derek the charming nephew could ever be President. No, I said, he wasn't born in the U.S. or to military parents abroad. Matt and Amy backed me up on this.
Rod disagreed. Derek was born to American citizen parents and therefore qualifies.
I looked it up.
The Constitution says:
No person except a natural born citizen, or a citizen of the United States, at the time of the adoption of this Constitution, shall be eligible to the office of President; neither shall any person be eligible to that office who shall not have attained to the age of thirty-five years, and been fourteen years a resident within the United States.
WikiAnswers says a natural born citizen is:
A person born in the territory of the United States of America or to United States citizen parents
So, Derek, go for it.
Rod disagreed. Derek was born to American citizen parents and therefore qualifies.
I looked it up.
The Constitution says:
No person except a natural born citizen, or a citizen of the United States, at the time of the adoption of this Constitution, shall be eligible to the office of President; neither shall any person be eligible to that office who shall not have attained to the age of thirty-five years, and been fourteen years a resident within the United States.
WikiAnswers says a natural born citizen is:
A person born in the territory of the United States of America or to United States citizen parents
So, Derek, go for it.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Facebook, DC, and Outwitting Security
So the other day Matt got after me for not signing up for Facebook yet. "One of these times I will," I said. [BTW I reached the Yes decision based on my friend EG's email that assured me I can opt out of all the throwing-sheep foolishness and on my friend Kay's reasoning that going on Facebook is a great way to keep {loving, concerned} track of your big kids and their friends, which is why I first went on Xanga.]
Anyway.
Then Emily, who was on the computer, said, "Hey, Mom, why don't you go on Facebook as soon as you get 300,000 hits on Life in the Shoe?"
"Ok," I said, much like Jephthah must have said when someone suggested he sacrifice whatever comes out to meet him when he comes home.
So we came back from our wild two days in DC and I checked my blog, and to my surprise it was at 300,298 hits.
Ok. Facebook coming soon, like when I'm on my own computer again.
Meanwhile.
How to summarize two wild days in the nation's capital? First of all, who would have thought that everyone else within a 200-mile radius also had the bright idea to put the family and in-laws in the van and go see the Museum of American History? Everything was crowded, busy, full, loud, and full of people people people.
Of course the monuments were accessible and moving. The Korean War Memorial, with all those wet, battle-weary men stumbling uphill, guys the age of Matt and my nephew Jason. And the new WWII memorial, which is simple yet profound and very beautiful, and it's too bad it didn't get built until so many years after the war.
You know, you don't realize from pictures in high school textbooks how huge these places are. Like the Jefferson Memorial always looked like an oversized gazebo in someone's backyard and in reality it is enormous, with tall columns and lots of marble steps and rounded stone platform things out the back where you can sit and soak up some sun on a very cold day.
Unlike the open-air monuments, the museums were unbelievably full. We gave up on the Museum of American History, when the line snaked down the long flights of steps and far down the sidewalk, and they were letting in only a handful of people, every 20 minutes.
We tried the National Archives and the story was similar. However, we did see the wonderful displays at the Conservatory and also the Air and Space Museum and a few others.
And we toured the Capitol, a very very different proposition from ten years ago when we wandered all around the tunnelly things on the outside and saw Newt Gingrich get whisked into his black Suburban and then we went up the steps and the security guy chuckled at Matt's big pocketknife and handed it to Aunt Rosie for safe keeping and we were free to wander at will.
No no. No more. Way out on the back lawn of the Capitol we descended some steps and waited in line while a uniformed guy told us to put all water bottles in the garbage, all food, all lotion, all perfume, all drinks, all sprays of any kind.
Well. I had in my purse a dainty little tub of a new hand lotion that my fine neighbor Anita had given me for Christmas. I was not about to consign it to the garbage. So I rested a while on the little stone curb thing by the flower beds along the stairway. Hmmm hmmm, la di da.....and I reached back and gently dug out some dirt near the edge, quickly inserted my lotion and hand sanitizer, covered them with dirt and leaves, noted the spot, and casually took my place in line.
Surely security was watching all these things, surely the city was alive with a thousand spies before the inauguration. Would I be found out, or not?
We took the tour, a very tightly-controlled experience compared to ten years ago, but still interesting. The capitol is an amazing building and that is the truth.
Then we went back outside and I rushed to my flower bed. . . hmmm, right there I think....Yes! there they were, safe and sound.
Maybe the FBI had more important things to check up on, with the inauguration and all.
Oh, we also saw the Lincoln Memorial and decided he doesn't really look like he's smiling on one side and frowning on the other. And of course one of my sons, that one that crashes into church beams, had to sit on the banister and go sliding way way down, in sight of three security guards and a sign that said, "Do not slide on banisters." We pointed it out to him. "Oops," he said.
Quote of the Day:
Jason: Ask me if I'm a red truck.
Emily: Are you a red truck?
Jason: No.
--Jason's idea of a good joke. Emily and Steven and Jenny thought this was really funny
Anyway.
Then Emily, who was on the computer, said, "Hey, Mom, why don't you go on Facebook as soon as you get 300,000 hits on Life in the Shoe?"
"Ok," I said, much like Jephthah must have said when someone suggested he sacrifice whatever comes out to meet him when he comes home.
So we came back from our wild two days in DC and I checked my blog, and to my surprise it was at 300,298 hits.
Ok. Facebook coming soon, like when I'm on my own computer again.
Meanwhile.
How to summarize two wild days in the nation's capital? First of all, who would have thought that everyone else within a 200-mile radius also had the bright idea to put the family and in-laws in the van and go see the Museum of American History? Everything was crowded, busy, full, loud, and full of people people people.
Of course the monuments were accessible and moving. The Korean War Memorial, with all those wet, battle-weary men stumbling uphill, guys the age of Matt and my nephew Jason. And the new WWII memorial, which is simple yet profound and very beautiful, and it's too bad it didn't get built until so many years after the war.
You know, you don't realize from pictures in high school textbooks how huge these places are. Like the Jefferson Memorial always looked like an oversized gazebo in someone's backyard and in reality it is enormous, with tall columns and lots of marble steps and rounded stone platform things out the back where you can sit and soak up some sun on a very cold day.
Unlike the open-air monuments, the museums were unbelievably full. We gave up on the Museum of American History, when the line snaked down the long flights of steps and far down the sidewalk, and they were letting in only a handful of people, every 20 minutes.
We tried the National Archives and the story was similar. However, we did see the wonderful displays at the Conservatory and also the Air and Space Museum and a few others.
And we toured the Capitol, a very very different proposition from ten years ago when we wandered all around the tunnelly things on the outside and saw Newt Gingrich get whisked into his black Suburban and then we went up the steps and the security guy chuckled at Matt's big pocketknife and handed it to Aunt Rosie for safe keeping and we were free to wander at will.
No no. No more. Way out on the back lawn of the Capitol we descended some steps and waited in line while a uniformed guy told us to put all water bottles in the garbage, all food, all lotion, all perfume, all drinks, all sprays of any kind.
Well. I had in my purse a dainty little tub of a new hand lotion that my fine neighbor Anita had given me for Christmas. I was not about to consign it to the garbage. So I rested a while on the little stone curb thing by the flower beds along the stairway. Hmmm hmmm, la di da.....and I reached back and gently dug out some dirt near the edge, quickly inserted my lotion and hand sanitizer, covered them with dirt and leaves, noted the spot, and casually took my place in line.
Surely security was watching all these things, surely the city was alive with a thousand spies before the inauguration. Would I be found out, or not?
We took the tour, a very tightly-controlled experience compared to ten years ago, but still interesting. The capitol is an amazing building and that is the truth.
Then we went back outside and I rushed to my flower bed. . . hmmm, right there I think....Yes! there they were, safe and sound.
Maybe the FBI had more important things to check up on, with the inauguration and all.
Oh, we also saw the Lincoln Memorial and decided he doesn't really look like he's smiling on one side and frowning on the other. And of course one of my sons, that one that crashes into church beams, had to sit on the banister and go sliding way way down, in sight of three security guards and a sign that said, "Do not slide on banisters." We pointed it out to him. "Oops," he said.
Quote of the Day:
Jason: Ask me if I'm a red truck.
Emily: Are you a red truck?
Jason: No.
--Jason's idea of a good joke. Emily and Steven and Jenny thought this was really funny
Sunday, December 28, 2008
In VA
Snapshots of vacation in Virginia:
a houseful of mostly males
and noise
and smells
and laundry
and food
and games
fitting in occasional private conversations with the sister
meeting the neighbors who are probably characters in Em's future novel
as he is scared of mice
and plays taps at military funerals
only he raises the bugle and pushes a button and it plays by itself
and she loves to watch football games on TV.
cousins interacting
a full dinner table
with piles of awesome food.
watching people
and trying to figure out all the shades of Mennonites in the area
which is completely confusing
trying to get the Old Order Mennonite horse to come to the fence
and talk to us.
going to Washington DC tomorrow
quote of the Day:
"Our coats are no-nonsense. That is the only thing that makes sense to us."
--Derek the nephew, quoting this
a houseful of mostly males
and noise
and smells
and laundry
and food
and games
fitting in occasional private conversations with the sister
meeting the neighbors who are probably characters in Em's future novel
as he is scared of mice
and plays taps at military funerals
only he raises the bugle and pushes a button and it plays by itself
and she loves to watch football games on TV.
cousins interacting
a full dinner table
with piles of awesome food.
watching people
and trying to figure out all the shades of Mennonites in the area
which is completely confusing
trying to get the Old Order Mennonite horse to come to the fence
and talk to us.
going to Washington DC tomorrow
quote of the Day:
"Our coats are no-nonsense. That is the only thing that makes sense to us."
--Derek the nephew, quoting this
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Auf wiedersehen
Today, the Lord willing, we all go to Portland by various routes. Tomorrow morning, the Lord willing, we all 8 fly to Virginia to my fine sister's for a week. Then Amy catches a ride to Bible school from there, and Emily stays an extra week for some aunt time.
The weather and road conditions these last couple of weeks compel me to say "the Lord willing" more than normal.
Hansie and Michael the neighbor will be taking care of things here.
I wish all of you a memorable Christmas, full of joy unspeakable, the peace that passes all understanding, faith--the evidence of things hoped for, and love--the greatest of these.
P.S. Oh my. That was the longest drive to Portland ever. 4 hours. Lots of packed icy snow in odd bumpy lines in the lanes, and a few extra bad spots made traffic back up for miles and miles. Let's hope the plane leaves tomorrow.
The weather and road conditions these last couple of weeks compel me to say "the Lord willing" more than normal.
Hansie and Michael the neighbor will be taking care of things here.
I wish all of you a memorable Christmas, full of joy unspeakable, the peace that passes all understanding, faith--the evidence of things hoped for, and love--the greatest of these.
P.S. Oh my. That was the longest drive to Portland ever. 4 hours. Lots of packed icy snow in odd bumpy lines in the lanes, and a few extra bad spots made traffic back up for miles and miles. Let's hope the plane leaves tomorrow.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Comparison Shopping
I know some of you readers have done the circuit of our heavily-initialed Mennonite Bible schools. For the sake of the dear daughter trying to plan her future, I'd like to hear from people who have attended both EBI (formerly the more ponderous BMABI) and SMBI. (Or if you attended only one but have something to say, say on.)
Particularly:
Which is the more academically taxing?
(Or is that up to the student?)
Which has a more intense social life?
How hard is it to be alone at either (for introverts who have to have time away from people)?
Which would have a more supportive atmosphere for someone in recovery?
What is the dress code for girls at SMBI and is it true they have to wear nylons? [Unfortunately this is very important to the DD]
Thanks.
Quote of the Day:
Miss Amy: Sit down and be quiet!
Drennan: I'm not very good at multi-tasking.
Particularly:
Which is the more academically taxing?
(Or is that up to the student?)
Which has a more intense social life?
How hard is it to be alone at either (for introverts who have to have time away from people)?
Which would have a more supportive atmosphere for someone in recovery?
What is the dress code for girls at SMBI and is it true they have to wear nylons? [Unfortunately this is very important to the DD]
Thanks.
Quote of the Day:
Miss Amy: Sit down and be quiet!
Drennan: I'm not very good at multi-tasking.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
More on Young People
After my recent post about young people, someone commented with this:
So what should you do if you happen to know that quite a lot of youth are living private lives which might just slightly shock the elders in their church? Not to say that none of the youth are wonderful and all.
I'd really like to hear from young people in particular on this.
What is cause for alarm? What isn't? How can older people intervene effectively?
I realize we all have different standards of what is alarming. I spoke at a church recently where they had just been made aware that the young people were smoking pot in the parking lot during church services. And then on the other end of the pendulum swing we have the example that made my kids hoot with laughter the other morning: that when I was their age we were supposed to part our hair exactly down the middle and if we wanted to be a little bit cool and rebellious we would part it ever so slightly on the side, like half an inch. And in between we have my niece who is in on troubling information about what her seemingly straitlaced friends are actually doing while their parents and the church are oblivious because they look so good during daylight hours.
But hey, from hair to pot, it's all about where your heart is at.
So, young people and young at heart, I want to hear from you about this. Answer the specific question or ramble, I don't care.
Quote of the Day:
"Most of the time big women are, like, comforting, and skinny women are, like, grouchy. [pause] No offense, Jenny. Or Emily."
--Jenny's friend Deana
So what should you do if you happen to know that quite a lot of youth are living private lives which might just slightly shock the elders in their church? Not to say that none of the youth are wonderful and all.
I'd really like to hear from young people in particular on this.
What is cause for alarm? What isn't? How can older people intervene effectively?
I realize we all have different standards of what is alarming. I spoke at a church recently where they had just been made aware that the young people were smoking pot in the parking lot during church services. And then on the other end of the pendulum swing we have the example that made my kids hoot with laughter the other morning: that when I was their age we were supposed to part our hair exactly down the middle and if we wanted to be a little bit cool and rebellious we would part it ever so slightly on the side, like half an inch. And in between we have my niece who is in on troubling information about what her seemingly straitlaced friends are actually doing while their parents and the church are oblivious because they look so good during daylight hours.
But hey, from hair to pot, it's all about where your heart is at.
So, young people and young at heart, I want to hear from you about this. Answer the specific question or ramble, I don't care.
Quote of the Day:
"Most of the time big women are, like, comforting, and skinny women are, like, grouchy. [pause] No offense, Jenny. Or Emily."
--Jenny's friend Deana
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Gray Hair #249
Last night was the annual Christmas program at our church school. As always, everyone showed up starched and shined. They sang their hearts out and astonished all of us with their performance of "He Gave Everything," a drama that had us laughing at times and crying at others. Well, Rita Baker, she of the soft heart and five boys, cried. I don't know that the rest of us did.
(Here's Jenny surrounded by boys, which often seems to be her lot in life)
By what combination of skill and luck and sheer magic Miss Amy pulled believable, authentic performances out of teenaged guys, we will never know. All I know is that she had 15-year-olds, a species known for mumbling and scoffing and shuffling, up there enunciating clearly and taking on their characters like they meant it.
As the principal's wife and the teacher's mom, I played my usual role of sending my frozen Christmas turkey to school and seeing it get schlepped around onstage, scavenging at the last minute for a flashlight for Paul the lighting guy, and arranging dozens of plates of food afterwards, a Mennonite Christmas-program feast at its best.
Unfortunately, a few teenaged boys, no doubt tired of being trussed up in white shirts and dress pants, relieved that the program was over, and fueled by a few too many pieces of Aunt Bonnie's famous fudge, decided to go into the sanctuary and run around the perimeter. . . with the lights off.
Now there are these thick beams that go up the walls in the sanctuary and arch up like they're holding up the roof. And you know what's coming, don't you? One of the boys--that would be mine of course--crashed into a beam.
I was shortly summoned to the boys' restroom, where I got to see my nice calm son with a chunk of flesh dangling from his upper lip, with lots of blood all around. His tooth had gone right through his lip and ripped off a pea-sized piece; amazingly, the teeth are fine.
We took him home and gently fitted the chunk back where it came from and held it there with a band-aid. Today he went to school and my nurse friend Sharon came and looked at it and said we did the right thing, and they seldom stitch up things like this so there's no need for a doctor unless it gets infected or something.
Today, I am fine again. The son is also fine, except he's having a little trouble with eating and drinking, especially since his mouth was still sore from when he stuck a lighted match in it a few days before, showing off of course, and miscalculated the temperature and direction just a bit.
Quote of the Day:
"Mom, we weren't running; we were jogging."
--my son's friend
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