Word of the Week: Reticent

reticent  /adj./  habitually silent or uncommunicative, disinclined to speak readily.  reserved.  taciturn. having a restrained, quiet, or understated quality.  bashful.  hesitant or shy.  tight-lipped.  clammed up.

reticent  /adj./  1.  Not being a reticent person myself, it might surprise you to know how much I really like this word.  That first syllable is so quiet you hardly know what's coming before it's already upon you, and then the last syllable bashfully quiets the word back down, as if it's sorry it spoke at all.

reticent  /adj./  2.  For whatever reason, I've been reticent to talk about last week, as I don't know how to capture it accurately.  In many ways it was just a dumb week, with a number of wasted days thrown in the mix.  But last night at dinner, David said something like, "We need to post those pictures of..." by which he meant I need to post those pictures.  And this only made me even more reticent to share any of it because its my blog after all, etc.  But here I am, reticently repenting. 

Maybe one reason I'm so disinclined to be reticent is that I look just plain weird with my mouth closed.  I need more lip to cover my teeth properly.

reticent  /adj./  3.  We had our family picture taken on Monday and Tuesday this week.  Yeah, that's right, it was a two-day affair.  I will only say that this was not by design.  (I will not say why...I am determined to stay reticent on this point.)  But this felt like a couple of wasted days because of all the prep it takes to get us looking presentable.  It's a job, believe me.  Our last good family picture was taken when Ethan was one and I was bound and determined this year to get a real live, official family picture taken.  Now we are anxiously awaiting the proofs.  I am two parts gleeful anticipation and one-and-a-half parts fearful trepidation.  I wanted it to be colorful...and it was.  David is quietly concerned about this and would have preferred us to all match.  Luckily for me, in our whole married life he has never once said, "I told you so."  (Even though he could have about a million times.)

reticent  /adj./  4.  The kids had Tuesday off school and so we went to the drive-in movie after our almost-family-picture on Monday night.  We blew up an air mattress for the back of the car and let the kids lay on that, while David and I sat on camp chairs outside and were, surprisingly, plenty cold by the end of the show.  (Though I'm reticent to complain about the cold because we've waited so long for it to arrive.  In fact, we're back to hot again today and I was boiling in bed last night.  It's not beginning to feel anything like Christmas.  The flannel sheets are going on the beds in a week...we're all going to have to sleep naked.)

 

reticent  /adj./  5.   Tuesday was spent family picturing (again) and playing games (it was a minor holiday).  Wednesday I had to go to the school to help with scenery for the upcoming 2nd grade play and the rest of the day was eaten up with mothering interruptions.  By Thursday I was starting to panic about my upcoming talk and the state of my house.  (My usual cleaning day is Monday, so by Thursday even RIM couldn't think straight.)  I am reticent to admit that I am pretty much a non-functioning human being when my house is a mess, or even (dare I admit it) when I "feel" like it is dirty.  So I scrubbed my way to sanity and then spent the next couple of days working on my talk for stake standards night on Sunday evening.  And my kids asked several times, "Aren't you done with that yet?" (I told you it was a dumb week.)

reticent  /adj./  6.  On Friday night we went to the Fall Festival at Caleb's school.  It's mostly a fundraiser, but they have dinner and a few carnival-like games.  We didn't stay for long, but the kids had a good time and got their fill of cotton candy and snow cones, which has to last them until the Lehi Rodeo in the spring.  Savannah asked David to hold her cotton candy while she frosted a cupcake at one of the booths, and he was reticent to admit that it was significantly smaller when he handed it back to her.  There was a gorgeous full moon that night and on the way home I pointed it out, to which Olivia said, "That's a perfect moon for running away."  What the?  Just when I was planning to ask her if she was happy at home she followed it with, "If I was an Indian that would be a perfect running-away moon."  I have no idea what happens inside her mind.

reticent  /adj./  7.  For a post on reticent, this certainly isn't very, is it?  I won't be a bit offended, if you stopped reading at number 3. 

Election Day 2008

Well, we made it.  Win or lose, it will be over tonight.

Here is what my love wore to work today.

We shared a grin when he came into the kitchen this morning.  And a kiss for good luck.

(Heaven knows we need it.)

I voted early (and fervently), so my work there is done.  But I do have other things to do for election day, and most of them, happily, involve an apron. 

Here's what's on the menu for tonight:

All-American hamburgers

with

home-made french fries

and

rootbeer in a bottle (the only way to drink it)

and, of course,

home-made apple pie (my specialty).

There's nothing better to celebrate with or be consoled by

than a perfect apple pie.

Perhaps I ought to make two.

Word of the Week: Passel

passel  /n./  an indeterminately great amount or number. a lot. multiplicity. a great deal. abundance. profusion. jillion. ream. heap. peck.

passel  /n./  1.  I have a passel of posts in my head.  I told David that I might as well just give up.  He told me it's only been four days since my last post, that I can't be that far behind.  He has (luckily) never been inside my mind.  He'd be shocked at how much my brain can produce in four days time.  And most of it crazy.

passel  /n./  2.  This week I had my one year blogiversary.  (I meant to do a whole post on it, but I had a peck of things to catch-up on after returning from Houston and Halloween stole the rest of the week.)  There are so many things I love about this milestone, not the least of which is the passel of daily, seemingly ordinary moments that make up my life, now real and recorded, forever.  Because of this blog I have more photos, I am more introspective, I am more kind (even to myself), I am more aware of my present, and I have fewer regrets.  That's a passel of reasons to keep going.

passel  /n./  3.  I had a great time at Quilt Market with my aunt and my mom and felt (above all) extremely useful, which is, occasionally, a really nice feeling to have.  I came home with a passel of new projects and ideas and handmade Christmas gift ideas.  Now I just need a passel of free hours to get to them.    

passel  /n./  4.  My favorite moment of the Halloween festivities this week came on Wednesday when Ethan and I went hunting for four perfect pumpkins among the passels of them at our local farmer's market.  We had a little carving party on Thursday night.  My parents came for dinner, and as payment we required them help one of the kids clean out and carve their pumpkin.  Divide and conquer, as it were.  My mom wondered out loud how she did it with nine of us.  I always wonder that.  No matter the subject.  We had pumpkin pie for dessert (Ethan's idea) which turned out to be the perfect ending.

passel /n./  5.  My children celebrated Halloween this week (a separate post altogether), and I celebrated it being over.  Now I just have a passel of candy that I need to discretely get rid of.  Usually I just let my kids eat themselves sick for two days and have done with it, but this year they got so much, we've still got a giant bowl full.  I'm already tired of the wrappers, the smashed-in goo, and the chocolate fingerprints around my house.  Really, I just don't get the point of it at all.  Boo.

passel  /n./  6.  David and I have been sick for the last couple of days.  Nothing serious.  Just complete fatigue, sore throats, headaches.  But feeling bad enough to require a passel of naps.  I was in and out of consciousness all afternoon yesterday.  During these naps I had a passel of disconcertingly bad dreams, one yesterday that is still haunting me and may have been the worst I've ever had, and one today which was all about the word "ascribed."  (Yes, really.)  I'm finally feeling a bit better, (David thinks this is all due to the medicine he force fed me) but I'm now filled with dread and that slightly panicky feeling that I've lost more hours than I'll ever be able to make up. 

Word of the Week: Otiose

otiose /adj./  lazy or indolent.  of no use.   ineffective or futile.  idle.  laggard.  slothful.  pointless.  profitless.  worthless.  hollow.  superfluous.

otiose /adj./  1.  I'm making myself write this post.  David, for one, wishes I would have written it yesterday.  (I had a rough night, all too terribly aware of my otiose homemaking efforts in the face of stupid and constant entropy.)  So here goes.  First the word itself.  Talk about otiose.  The "t" right in the middle of this word serves as a case in point, as it is pronounced "oh-shee-ohs."  That "t" seems equally lazy, ineffective, pointless, and superfluous.

otiose /adj./  2.  Ethan had three days off school this week and we had such an enjoyable time together, it made me wonder (yet again) if pre-K isn't a completely otiose endeavor.  But then I went to his parent-teacher conference and they showed me how week by week his ability to write his name has improved.  I got a little teary at his progress and even a little proud, despite myself.

otiose /adj./  3.  Caleb had his first official boy scout camp-out this week and David was good enough to go with him.  The camporee was held next to part of the Mormon Battalion trail and as part of the camp they did a 6 or 7 mile hike along the trail (through the middle of the desert) with stops and challenges along the way.  They came back hot and sunburned.  (I packed Caleb an otiose sweatshirt and long pants, instead of sunscreen.  Sounds about right.) 

 

otiose /adj./  4.  Thursday this week was "National Boss's Day."  (Which is quite an otiose minor holiday when you really think about it.)  But they celebrated it at the hospital.  When David came home with a balloon and goodies, Olivia asked incredulously, "You're the boss?"  When David smiled and said he was, Olivia commented that she had no idea. 

otiose /adj./  5.  Caleb is still working on his aerospace project, and I spent about eight otiose hours this weekend helping him with it.  I think I am quite possibly the most otiose "parent coach" ever (ineffective and worthless, not idle or lazy), and am just trying to figure out what we can come up with in 6 more weeks that will be worth standing up in front of a half dozen NASA scientists for.  We are still in the "life-support" stage (do you know how much water and oxygen 100 people use in 2 years time!), though we did make some progress yesterday as a group on the social/cultural/political aspects of the project.  Meanwhile, I am spending my "free time" reading articles about humanure...which is exactly what you think it is.

otiose /adj./  6.  On Saturday morning, while David and Caleb were at the scout camporee, the other kids and I helped out on an Eagle scout project, painting fire hydrants.  The kids were hesitant, at first, to spend their "play day" out in the hot sun doing "scouts" (Olivia says the word with particular revulsion), but all their protestations became otiose once they saw they got to wield their very own paintbrushes.  We had a great time, and even managed to keep most of the bright yellow, enamel-based paint on the actual hydrants...though there are a few obvious bits in David's car.  (David had the camera so you will just have to imagine our sweaty, paint-spotted faces grinning at you from behind a fire hydrant right here.)

Feelin' Groovy

David's hospital turned 35 today.

To commemorate that day in '73, this is what he wore to work today.

 He asked me if I thought the pants were too tight.

Not on your life.

The End of the Peach Holiday

I have enough peaches left for a couple of pies.  They're going in the oven in the morning, and that will be the end of the peach holiday here.

It has been delightful this year.

The other day, I was reading from Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver as Olivia was having her viola lesson.  I started to read it on recommendation from a friend, and I'm not sure yet how I feel about it.  More than anything else, this book just increases my longing for real seasons, dark black soil, and a few months of good frost.  I'll be honest...that longing has even verged on lust and yearning. 

Her chapter on asparagus had me practically panting and reminded me of being fifteen and reading a lusty romantic paperback.  And all this while my daughter is slowly learning "Hot Cross Buns" on the other side of the door.

But this little paragraph reminded me of our recent torrid peach frenzy and so I thought I'd share it.  She writes,

"But there's a simpler reason to pass up off-season asparagus: it's inferior.  Respecting the dignity of a spectacular food means enjoying it at its best.  Europeans celebrate the short season of asparagus as a form of holiday."

"At our house we only eat asparagus for the weeks it's in season, but during those weeks we eat it a lot--the spears must be cut every day.  About the same time the asparagus plant is getting weary of our management plan, we're starting to feel the same way.  It works out. 

It does work out.  Today when I offered peaches and cream for snack, my kids asked for mint chocolate chip ice cream instead.  

And so we're moving on.  There are other holidays on the horizon after all.  But this was a great one, as minor holidays go.  Really, really great.

What I Overheard

I haven't written in a few days, and consequently, my brain doesn't rightly know where to begin.

So I'll just relay a conversation I heard yesterday between Ethan and his friend, Ashton. (For weeks we didn't know who Ashton was.  His possible name became the topic of many dinner conversations.  Eventually I tasked Savannah with the job of finding out who this little boy was.  But then we still didn't know what his last name was or how to get a hold of him.  Two days ago Ashton's big sister put a note in Ethan's pocket that said, "Ashton wants to play!"  It included his whole name and phone number.  I smiled to myself thinking that Ashton's family had had many of the exact same dinner conversations about just who this Ethan was.  But Ashton's mom brilliantly figured out a way to get them together.  I have no idea why this never occurred to me.)

Anyway...yesterday at my bar:

E:  Do you know what's in that bowl?

A:  Fruit.

E:  Yeah, but what kind of fruit?

A:  I don't know.

E:  It's peaches.  We eat lots of peaches.

(a pause)

E:  Except not all the time.  It's a peach holiday.

I grinned for a long time about that.

Mother's Day Recap

Mother's Day has come and almost gone. 

I got two naps.  Breakfast in bed, and dinner without lifting a finger.

It was a good day.

I had a little epiphany at church today.  The man that was speaking quoted the First Presidency by saying, "Motherhood is the highest and holiest calling."  And then he said, "I think this means that it is also the hardest."  And I had a little revelation.  Somehow, even though I firmly believe the words about "highest and holiest" with all my heart, I never equated them with blood, sweat, and tears.  I somehow thought my work needed to be more peaceful and perfect and I was falling far below the mark.  Today I see that my work is high, and holy, and hard.  And now I am peaceful.

On Friday, Savannah had a little program in her 1st grade class for Mother's Day.  And yes I got choked up.  Happens every time.  We took a quick self-portrait...note my crown.

And yesterday we had a little Mother's Day celebration for my mom...and the kids swam of course, even though they were blue and shivering by the time they climbed out.  The only downside of a pleasant, "cool" spring is that the pool heats up slower.  I'll take the trade-off of course.

I love being a mother, and especially to these particular children.  They are more than I deserve in every way.

SPT: Something Old (and Late)

I missed May Day.

A minor holiday I sincerely love.

But I was out of town and also a bit out of my mind, and so it came and went without a thought.

When I was a girl, the family across the street had a very tall flag pole and every May Day we would tie our ribbons to a big ring, and hoist it to the top and then walk around the flag pole weaving our May pole.  For whatever reason, I loved this simple celebration.

So for something old...here is an old picture of me walking around our neighborhood May pole, circa 1986.   (I'm on the right side of the photo, just about to weave "under."   Happy May Day.

Beware the Ides of March

I couldn't resist remembering this *minor holiday,* even though I am really hoping to avoid any impending doom.

So far so good at our house, though we do still need to clip the bunny's nails, so this does not bode well for her.

...and when the day had come and Caesar was on his way to the senate-house, he greeted the seer with a jest and said: "The Ides of March has come," and the seer said to him softly: "Aye, Caesar, but not gone."