Thanks J and M

Boy was I tired.

I rushed out of work to get there by 3. Once I arrived, I watched a pretty happy couple grab their bags and skitter out the door. The husband was so excited he tried to put his wife's purse over head instead of her shoulder. Once they were safely off, I turned to their 3 oldest kids, present in the living room, knowing that 2 more were napping upstairs. We played with little sponges shaped like bugs. There was a brief moment of correction when I learned the oldest had lied to his sister about something I'd said. I heard the updates on a recent birthday and a cast removal. The oldest girl played her recorder for me and one of her brothers played a tin whistle. They marveled over my husbands new computer and changed the wallpaper on my cell phone. Number 4 in line kept coming downstairs when he was supposed to be napping. After 3 attempts to put him down again, I gave up and he joined the rest. My husband arrived around that time and we watched a 3 stooges episode. I then woke the baby (who saw me and promptly displayed the shoes she'd slept in) and we all went for a walk to the neighbors. We were supposed to just pay a hello-house call, but ended up staying for a half hour. The whole time was a tussock of chatting with the neighbor's mom and keeping my eye on the two youngest ones, the baby constantly calling to me "Kari, come on!" and making a break for the door. The 3 boys got absorbed in an elaborate lego machine while the girl ran off in her high-heeled purple flip-flops with her best friend. The toddler kept screaming "I'm not a baby anymore!" That was our cue to go. It was like herding cats to get them back toward home. Once there, there were a few different dinner orders. The older kids pressed in from all sides, measuring their height against my back and shoulders, while I called at them to beware the hot soup pots I was stirring. It was a test of wills with the baby to get her to eat her dinner, but the cheering crowd of siblings won her over every time she took a bite. It was made clear I served the kids way to much, and it was also made clear they prefered chips, cheese and sour cream to the wonderful soup mom had left behind. I left the dishes to do after the kids were down and joined the fray in the living room for rough housing and human pyramids. 7 or 8 times someone thought they got hit in the eye only to rethink it the second they heard one of their siblings laugh. A chair threw all 3 brothers onto the floor and fell on top of them at one point, and they all emerged screaming that they wanted to do it again. I brushed the oldest daughter's hair before bed. The baby kept calling to me from wherever she'd toddled in the room only to wave once she got my attention. More herding cats to get them upstairs, and it was bedtime stories and prayer before finally commanding that heads be on pillows before the lights were out. I scratched backs and tucked in stuffed animals, then headed downstairs to start on the dishes and pick up the mess that had been made that day. I set the table and prepared what I could of the next morning's breakfast. Now I'm in bed, writing an account of another day that should, but the world's standards, have made me want to return to my well-ordered, structured life without the 5 kids.

Are you kidding?


On a phenomenally fun camping trip I recently went on, I was asked what Tolkienian race I'd like to be. One person said a wizard because they could come back from the dead. Another said they'd prefer the elves because they have good eyesight and can walk on snow. My husband said he'd want to be a dwarf for the beard. When the question was posed to me, I paused, then answered.

"A Hobbit," I said.

"Why?" the others chorused.

"Because I just want to have a family, live my life, then die and go be with Christ."

These 5 little 'nieces and nephews' of mine run me ragged every time I'm here. Sometimes they've lied to me. Sometimes they've cried rather than listen to me in their parents' absence. Sometimes they criticize the way I care for them. Sometimes they jump on my back without asking or step on my toes or hurt themselves. Sometimes they're just stubborn.

I still just want to have a family. =)

Thanks to these 5 little ones' mom and dad for giving me these days to spend with their kids, then sitting up way past everyone's bedtime to talk with me and Stephan about life and godliness. You're whole family is a treasure!

(and M - praying for your time away!)

...

(and J - praying for you while you're wife is away...please call us if you need food.)

I'm going camping!!!

Hurray!!!

Oldies and Classics

Stephan and I climed into and out of a valley in the Shenandoah Mountains last Saturday. On the hike I narrowly escaped 2 twisted ankles and narrowly did not escape a deep gouge on my little toe (yes, I was hiking in sandals - I have for years and this is the first time I've bled for it. Oi).

We were both so surprisingly not hungry when we finally got out of the valley that we decided we could wait through the 2 hour drive home to get back to our local Red Rock Canyon Grill. Once there we ordered a salad and a pot pie, and Stephan asked me this:

"Ever wonder what books will be deemed 'classics' in 70 years?"

I ruminated. "I think Tolkien is definitely in," he supplied.

"Pshaw," I said. "Tolkien's as good as classic already."

"Probably true," he consented.

"I think the Da Vinci Code will be a classic" I said.

"No way," Stephan countered. "Things that become classics are things that are good enough to stand the test of time. Like Simon and Garfunkle, or the Beatles - they were good, and they've stuck around."

"They were also famous," I contended. "And the Da Vinci Code was famous. Beyond that, it rocked society. I can totally picture a high school English teacher leading their class through a discussion of the stir the Da Vinci Code caused in 21st century America."

"Hm..." Stephan said, not quite convinced. "I just don't think it speaks to the human condition. For instance, I think things like Tim O'Brian's post-Vietnam War writing will make it," he mused. "Actually, anything written after a war may make it, given that it talks of the rawest levels of humanity."

"I don't think those will be the only peramiters that will constitute a classic," I said. "Call me a sinic, but I still say there's a 'sticking factor' - something different from your 'good enough to stand the test of time' theory - that comes from just being popular, being something that people will remember by nature of viral recomendations and media hype."

"I'm not convinced," Stephan smiled.

I shrugged. "It's a different culture than when Collins and Dickens were writing. People don't want the same quality anymore, and they'll only want less in the future. They all just want to be entertained, not made to think."

"Perhaps," Stephan said. At this point we switched our plates, me having eaten half the salad and he having eaten half the pot pie. This is how we ate out, sharing everything. This is one of the reasons I love Stephan. He's always shared his food with me. "But back to 'standing the test of time'. Another thing to consider is the amount of writing out there these days because of how easy it is to publish, either in print or on the internet."

"True," I said, raising my eyebrows. "Yet, that probably supports my theory that only the things that gain clout virally will last."

"Nah," Stephan insistend. "There is a cultured remnant in the world today, dear." He inclined his fork toward me. "And we prefer Dumas and Simon and Garfunkle."

I paused, then smiled as I became aware of The Backstreet Boys playing in the background. "I still hold that the stuff that most of the stuff that will last is the stuff that is catchy and shocking...like that song Smooth by Santana - he called it a 'tattoo on your brain'. I think the Brain Tattoos are most of what will last." I paused as Backstreet Boys kept playing. "So, in a similar vain, what do you think will be playing on oldies radio stations in 70 years? Do you think rap will be the genre of choice among geriatrics?"

He laughed. "I think it'll be the stuff good enough to stand the test of time!" Stephan said again, unconquerable.

I smirked, loving his idealism. "And I think it'll be 'You're and Allstar' by Smashmouth."

Getcher game on!

Forgeting...

My mother-in-law told that one of the signs of senility was forgetting things you're supposed to remember.

"Great," I said instantly "I'm senile."

Last Sunday while I was working, I was lamenting the fact that I felt like I forgot stuff constantly. "I can't remember deadlines...or procedures I learned days before..." After a heavy sigh I added "Funny that I forget all that but I can recite the entire script of the Lion King with songs and sound effects to this day..."

The real kicker is that as I lamented my forgetfulness I was in the act of forgetting something on the job - taking a head count for the class I was administrating. Badabing.

Monsters!

In a season past I used to write down the comedic encounters I had with the doctors I worked for. Well, I work with cool people now too - and they are just as comedic. Here's an email exchange I had with one of the fellows I work with to coordinate our church's baptisms.

from me: Can I have the most recent batch of baptism applications back? I've gotta file the buggers!

from him: Yep – check my desk for a blue folder labeled Baptism. They should be in there. Don’t let the monsters under the piles bite your hand.

from me: Ok – just finished bandaging my hand. Almost lost a finger to the monster that leapt, not from under the papers, but from out of the moldy coffee cup near your lamp! Mission successful – I’ve got the prize. Thanks!

from him: Yea, that’s the monster’s watering hole – look out!

I adore my coworkers! =)