Word of the Week: Ebullient

ebullient  /adj. /  overflowing with enthusiasm and high spirits.  bubbling. boiling with emotion.  full of joyful, unrestrained high spirits.  energetic.  lively.  very positive or happy.

ebullient  /adj./  1.  Caleb won first place in the "Health and Medical Sciences" category in his science fair on Friday night.  Ebullient almost doesn't describe the extent of his joy.  When they called his name his surprise turned to utter joy, his face flushed, and he ran for the stage.  I think all he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears because he couldn't seem to hear or speak for quite some time.

 

ebullient  /adj./  2.  The most ebullient moment for me at the science fair came at this moment:

I was proud-to-bursting watching him explain his project to the interested crowds.  I just stood there wondering how this could be my grown child, so old, so smart, so independent, and how I got to this stage of life without knowing it. 

ebullient  /adj./  3.  Thursday night, in the midst of everything else, Savannah and two of her friends performed a gymnastics number at the school talent show.  (They choreographed it themselves.)  She has never actually taken a gymnastics class, but this was not a deterrent.  She was absolutely ebullient, and out-of-breath, after her performance, and I (chagrined at my former reluctance) told her that she could take gymnastics in the fall.  After begging for years, she was beyond ebullient at this concession. 

ebullient  /adj./  4.  Saturday was the annual Lehi Days Rodeo, held just down the hill from our neighborhood.  My kids look forward to it every year, and they were utterly ebullient to be out in the sunshine, enjoying the rodeo events, the food, the concession stand (!), the petting zoo, and the free-roaming that comes along so rarely in 21st century childhood.

   

ebulliently  /adv./  5.  One of the events of the rodeo is the "Chicken Chase," where they let the kids line up (according to age) and chase chickens.  If you catch the chicken, you get to keep it.  Ethan lined up with the other four-year-olds and ran his legs off chasing down a chick.  He made a one-handed grab and snagged this chick, and then ebulliently raised it in the air in triumph.  My kids have done the chicken chase every year but this is the first year that Ethan competed and the first year we've ever caught a chicken.  When Caleb saw him running all-out, and knowing our little warrior, he said, "I knew he'd be just like that."

ebullient  /adj./  6.  At Lehi Days last year, Olivia talked us into buying a little chick, since no one caught one in the chicken chase.  She raised it for about four months before I decided we were a no-live-chicken house and we found a farm for her.  This year she brought her own money and bought a bunny.  She could not be any more ebullient about her new charge. 

ebullient  /adj./  7.   Lest you think our entire week was one ebullient moment after another, I offer this aggravation as evidence to the contrary.  I am less than ebullient over the spike in our temperatures this week.  This was my thermostat reading on Friday afternoon.  Yeah, that's right...that's how hot it was inside my house because running the air conditioning in February seems just wrong.  I skipped right over the first stage of grief and went straight to "Anger."  Our winter is over.  Argh!!

Friday Morning, 7:41 a.m.

Can someone get this boy a pack animal?

In an effort to lighten his load, I helped him clean out his backpack last night...

What the ??

Eating Our Way Through the Color Wheel and Other Wonders

When I was younger my mother always advised me to serve dinner with lots of colors in it.  Last night, I took this a little more literally than is really advisable.

I took dinner to my sister and her family, as she just brought a gorgeous little girl into the world.  They requested Chinese food and in an effort to manifest my love to her I made two kinds of chicken (teriyaki and orange) so it would be like they really ordered take-out, you know?  

When my kids were little they couldn't say "teriyaki" so we called it "brown chicken."  The name stuck, as they always do and last night the kids giggled at the fact that we were having "brown chicken" and "orange chicken" for dinner.  We are obviously a family of dining connoisseurs with very discriminating palates.   I was bemused and a little mortified to realize that we also have a dish my kids call "white chicken."  That's right...for a girl who loves descriptive words, it's baffling to find my food adjectives so seriously lacking.

For Amy...

I got an email this morning from an old college friend, now living with her husband and two "toddlets" in Taiwan.  She wrote that she had just received our Christmas letter...mailed mid-December.  She wrote, "It went from the states to Beijing, back to D.C., to Effingham (Effing-what?), to Taiwan."  Rather than being dismayed that it took so long, I am nothing but amazed that it made it there at all, and once  again, in absolute wonderment about the diligence and persistence of the U.S. postal service.  They just don't give up until that letter is delivered.  Wonder of wonders.  There is an equality in the USPS (every letter is important and good and worthy of delivery) that revives my faith in all of humanity.

(Note:  Lori, if you read this, please disregard the above mention of "Chinese food" as that is clearly a blasphemy considering your life experiences and current location!)

In other news, we are deep in the bowels of "Science Fair Week" (I named it that to make it sound fun and exciting, but really it just means we are up late and using lots of rubber cement and print cartridges).  Caleb is frustrated with our pace, but I DO have to feed these other people and make sure they occasionally have clean underwear.  (I am the "editor" and the "wielder-of-the-rotary-cutter" for the project.)  His vision is grand and his desire to rewrite is unquenchable.  His worries are even more rampant, and he reported yesterday that if he is missing anything he will get a zero and fail the term.  Oh my boy.

And last night, LATE, after listening to the account of my husband's day, I remarked how very much he is like his son (or perhaps it is actually the other way around).  This thought had never occurred to him and he stared at me incredulously, and then, in wonder, acknowledged that I was right.  A stunning revelation. 

Word of the Week: Inimically

inimically: /adv./  acting unfriendly, hostile.  injurious or harmful in effect.  hurtfully.  unfavorably.  perniciously.  detrimentally. 

inimically /adv./  1.  At our house we have a division of labor.  I do the inside work, and I help David with the outside work.  Huh?  Ugh.  I come from a long line of amazing, green-thumbed gardeners, but I have nothing but inimical feelings towards my yard, and all the work out there that never gets done.  Our year-round growing season makes me crazy.  And somehow the yard is always last on my priority list.  But occasionally, the weeds begin to get utterly ridiculous, and I start imagining dirty looks from the neighbors, and I know "it's time."  On Saturday, grumbling inimically and cursing the fall and the noxious weeds and briars and all that, I organized the troops and we headed out to make our yard presentable.  Mission accomplished.  It is just barely "presentable."

inimically  /adv./  2.  David and I have a standing Friday night date.  And it's not what you think.  Every Friday night at 8:30 we watch the McLaughlin Group fight it out.  We're junkies.  (And maybe, dorks.)  Always entertaining,  sometimes informative, inevitably random and loud, we love it.  From John McLaughlin's interruptions of, "WRONG!"  to Eleanor Clift screaming "Excuse Me!" and Pat Buchanan prefacing everything with, "Look, John..." we enjoy a very lively roundtable regarding the week's political news.  And the thing is, no matter how inimically they go after each other they never take it personally, and deep down you can tell they might even like each other.   After last Friday's usual raucous discussion, David looked at me and said, "They're crazy."  Well.  Yes.  And also, for me, the only bright spot in the current political landscape.

inimically  /adv./  3.  Caleb is winding up his science fair experiments and we have all been shocked to discover that Purell Hand Sanitizer does not behave inimically to germs at all!  He found absolutely no change in the growth of the bacteria on his hands after using Purell.  (I'll spare you those pictures.  Dis.gus.ting.)  I have quite happily believed for some time that I was killing germs left and right as I freely dolled out this stuff to my kids.  This is, sadly, not the case.  So we're back to soap and water around here.

inimically  /adv./  4.  And speaking of bacteria (I'm starting to feel like a need to make this a new category), at the end of last week, Olivia showed me what I thought was a spider bite on her lower leg.  I told her we would just watch it for a few days and it would be okay.  But by Saturday it was a huge, red, puss-filled, angry, inimical blister, and I could see that whatever once was, it was now clearly infected.  I took her to the doctor on Monday, concerned about MRSA and other serious complications.  He was concerned as well.  So after culturing it, he put her on a full-course of "the only out-patient antibiotics that are working on this stuff" (his words).  And we are crossing our fingers that it will work on this very inimically disposed bacteria.

Word of the Week: Piquancy

piquancy  /n./  agreeably pungent or stimulating to the taste;  exciting, agreeably interesting or attractive; an interestingly provocative or lively character.  punch.  spice.  allure.  charisma. 

piquancy  /n./  1.  Our dinner conversation has taken on a delightful piquancy in the last couple of years.  It seems the older my kids get, the more fun these conversations become.  Most nights David and I are all eyes and stifled giggling, secretly sharing the humor and piquancy of our children over our water glasses.  On Tuesday night Caleb announced, "Yesterday was National Corn Chip Day and we didn't do anything to celebrate."  Guess we should have broken out the "picante" salsa.

piquancy  /n./  2.  In desperation today, I cut my bangs too short.  I am trying not to dwell on it too much...I just keep telling myself that it adds a certain piquancy to my face that only increases my charm.

piquancy  /n./  3.  I've had several comments asking how I choose the word of the week.  When I started my blog I started seriously thinking about words again.  Just words.  They would roll around in my head and I found that each one was a kind of little magic.  Amazing all that one word could convey.  Amazing how just one of them could describe a moment, an emotion, an experience, perfectly.  And each carefully chosen word could add the piquancy, the punch, to what I was feeling.   When this all started I was in love with "mollify."  That word rolled around inside me for a few days...I don't know why...and it started me thinking that I would like to celebrate words for just what they are, a perfect idea wrapped in a few letters.   

Most of the words I use for the word of the week, I find while I'm reading something.  Though, I came across "lugubrious" while watching a program on PBS with my husband.  He asked me what it meant and I thought, "Word of the week!"  Most of the words I know, or have a vague idea of what they mean, but I also love finding a word I've never used, like "charily." 

And most of the word choices are not premeditated.  I keep a running list of piquant words that catch my attention, or that I don't know, and then choose them at random.  The post at the end of the week ("Use the word in a sentence and it's yours forever" kind of idea) is just a fun way to wrap up my week and remember random bits of my life.

piquancy  /n./  4.  On Saturday night we went to a production of La Man of La Mancha in St. George, Utah.   Don Quixote's piquancy pulled me in and made me want to leave my own reality for a bit and dream.  Thank heaven for the poets in our lives.  It was a charming play and the music was fantastic!  How can you not get chills when you hear "The Impossible Dream"?

piquancy  /n./  5.  The reason we drove to St. George was to celebrate my Grandma Olga's 94th birthday.   I hope I have as much piquancy as she does when I am her age.  She just barely gave up her driver's license...not without a fight...and it is not unusual to find her mucking out her curb, waxing her garage floor, or hauling dirt to fill flower pots on top of a retaining wall.  She is a witty wonder besides.  She always has humor and a clever comment...when we began singing "Happy Birthday," she started belting out, "Happy Birthday to Me!"  She wears her testimony on her sleeve and has lived a life dedicated to her family and her God.   Plus she is a brilliant writer and an inspired poet, two of my favorite qualities in a person. 

Odds and Ends

Odds:

Odds are that this political contest will be completely decided before I even get a chance to vote in the primaries.  I think it's odd that I can be so discouraged about the political process (and outcome) 9 months out from the election.  I love living in a democracy, but it's hard to love it this week...when it seems like most of the decision is made before I even get to raise my own little voice.

I think it's odd how much time I spend thinking about SPT each week.  (I saw one of Lelly's old SPT's where she challenged everyone to come up with their own words for the SPT acronym...mine would have to be "She Ponders Tediously.")  This week was no different.  I finally concluded that I had already wasted more than my 25th hour deciding what to SPT about and that I would actually have extra time in my day if I wasn't blogging at all.  This was a horrible thought and so I gave it up altogether this week.  Sorry Lelly.  It is odd that I make things harder than they need to be, but that seems to be my signature move.  Just ask my husband.

Today I reluctantly went and registered my baby up for "early learners" (a program our school district has for kids with Sept-Dec birthdays).  And it seems just that...EARLY.  Early to register, early to have him leaving my house, early to have the house to myself for a few hours every day.  He cried the whole way there.  It was not until I told him he would be able to wear a backpack that he consented to get out of the car.   I honestly wouldn't send him at all except that I think of all my kids, he is the least prepared for kindergarten and the most attached to home.  Later, when we were running errands, he quietly asked, "Who's going to stay with you?"  It took me a minute to figure out that he was referring to when he went to school.  Odd that I would go misty over that thought.

Odd that instead of fighting bacteria I am currently encouraging the growth of several bacterial colonies, all in the name of science.  Caleb has started his science fair project in earnest and we are feeding and incubating all kinds of disgusting life forms.  The other day Caleb asked me if he should not wash his hands at all throughout the day in order to get a better sample.  I thought it was very odd that I hesitated before answering.  But then I remembered Marie Curie.  There is only so much I think my 4th grader should risk for science. 

And Ends:

I can hardly believe that it's almost the end of January, and I've made very little (okay, zero) progress on my ambition to do a bit of writing this year.  This makes me think it is very likely that this year will end much the way the last one did, with regret.  The real trouble is that my work as a wife and mother, not to mention my church responsibilities, are never at an end and so...the real problem is that firefighting is not really conducive to writing.  

On Monday night we closed our Family Home Evening by singing "We Thank Thee, O God, For a Prophet."  It was hard to sing past the lump in my throat.  My heart was just thumping away feeling the testimony of those words, revelling in my darlings singing their little hearts out, and knowing that President Hinckley had left us.  The end of an era, as it were, and it was quite a reverent, thick moment in our house.

The Woes of an Elementary School Education

We've been back at school 7 days now.  And I am wondering how far away our summer vacation is.  Just to produce a little bit of hope around here, I wrote "The Last Day of School" and circled it on our calendar today.  I'm not sure we could go on without a dim speck of light at the end of this tunnel.

Olivia has been in a state of high anxiety since yesterday afternoon.  She got her first detention.  Oh my.  I heard her wailing, "My life is over!" last night in her bed.  I'll spare you the gory details, but her crime wasn't all that bad...she didn't hurt anyone or disrespect a teacher...so I simply explained to her that this was just something to learn from. 

"But I don't know where Room 20 is.  (That's where the detention was being held.)  And I'll probably get another detention for being late for detention."  Imagine the last part of that sentence increasing in volume and despair until the last word burst into a sob.

"Then I'll get sent to a school with the bad kids where they poison your food and hit you."

What?!!  Apparently she inherited a bit of the CIM from her dad.

I calmed her down, reassured her that no such place existed, and any one of the very nice, helpful teachers would show her where Room 20 was.

But this morning, there was more weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth.  Her life is officially over.  Oh my.   The first day of school with all its joys and excitement feels like a lifetime ago, for both of us.

My son's woes are of a different variety.  Two words:  Science fair.  

He's out of his mind with ideas and plans for the science fair, just two months away (his words, not mine).   And keeps trying to prod me into helping him.  Honestly, I often think I'm the only thing holding him back from complete brilliance.  I promised him this weekend for sure.  He wants to get online and order petri dishes so he can test anti-bacterial soap.  Uh-huh.  "And Mom, we'll need an incubator."  I asked my husband if we could use the one at the hospital.  Uh...no.  But if you'd like a tour of the hospital, he'd be happy to oblige.  So I need to round up an incubator as well.  And all Caleb keeps saying is things like:

"Mom, I need to turn in my proposal next week."

"Mom, I want to do at least 3 trials to confirm my results, so I need those petri dishes right away."

"Mom, I was thinking I could test the school bathroom soap against the samples in my control group."

And on, and on, and on.

And I wonder when summer vacations starts.  How soon can we be riding our bikes around Mackinac again?  Not soon enough.

Word of the Week: Cosset

cosset : /vt./  to treat as a pet, pamper.  coddle.  overindulge.  dote on, cater to.  cuddle.  nurture.

cosset  /vt./  1.  For Christmas (and much to my delight), David cosseted my vain side and gave me a whole bunch of MAC cosmetics.  Of course I had no idea how to use them properly, so I made an appointment for a make-over at Nordstrom's on Friday morning.  David went with me, and explained that he had bought me all this make-up, but had no idea if he had chosen the right things.  Then he had to step away to take a phone call from work. 

After he left, the girl who was doing my make-up asked, "So did you get anything fun for Christmas, besides a whole lot of MAC cosmetics?" and then before I could answer she said, "That was really nice of your friend." 

I thought, "Friend?!"  And then giggled and hooted inside at her assumption.  

David asked me why I didn't just explain.  I told him it would have blown her mind.  Married 12 years, 4 kids, and still don't know how to put on make-up.  She didn't even think I could manage to keep him as a boyfriend...let alone all the rest.   The kind and merciful thing to do was to leave it alone. 

cosset  /vt./  2.   I have been relishing every minute of the last week...with all of us home, together.  And have spent most of the time cosseting my husband and children.   We have spent hours and hours playing "Ticket to Ride" (US and European versions) and "Mexican Train" and "Settlers" and a whole lot of "Canasta."  David and Caleb even got in one long game of "Axis and Allies."  Hibernation is delightful.

cosset  /vt./  3.  I took one small break from all that hibernation to cosset my young women and take them ice skating.  We had a great time playing on the ice...especially once I got my skating legs under me again.  I only had one bad fall and thankfully my knitted beanie cosseted my head and saved me from cracking it wide open.

cosset  /vt./  4.  Real life is going to be a brutal re-entry on Wednesday morning.  I have been completely cosseted this past week and a half...sleeping in, staying up late, pajamas and games all day, everyone home, including David.  Spoiled indeed.  I have been having that melancholy-Sunday-evening-feeling-of-looming-abandonment for the past couple  of days.  Mourning the moving clock and regretting the march of the calendar.  I am definitely dragging my feet and will probably be really and truly grief-stricken by tomorrow evening. 

My Christmas Letter

We've unwrapped and we've feasted.  Our Christmas day is almost over.  I can hear the kids laughing in the other room...with no signs of stopping or heading for bed.  It has been a wonderful Christmas.  The only thing missing was my long winter nap...maybe tomorrow.

Before I leave this holiday, however, I thought I would post my Christmas letter from this year. I sent this out with my cards (some of you have already read it).  Just for the record, this holiday means so much more to me than the tinsel and the gifts.   I am more grateful for my Savior's grace than I can adequately say, but this is my attempt:

******************************

Dear Loved Ones,

Every year I think it’s going to be different. I think, “This year I’m going to write a happy, sugary letter about our magical trip to Disneyland where everything was perfect, even my hair.” But it is not this year. I know you’re all starting to think I just have a bad attitude, and you can imagine the objections voiced by David (bless him), but we are a family acquainted with grief, and through our extremities we have come to know our Savior a little more this year. I offer these two stories as testimony to the things we have learned in much harder and wrenching ways than these…

In December, the elementary school has “Holiday House,” where the kids can bring their money and buy presents for their families. One of our kids announced at dinner one Monday night that her class was going to Holiday House in the morning and she didn’t have any money. David offered to give her some. The next morning she called from the school because she had forgotten her money, and asked me to bring it to her. Are you keeping score? David gave her money. I brought it to school. We are kind and beneficent parents. When I arrived at the school in my pajamas and two-day-old makeup (another point for us…look at that sacrifice!), she was upset (yes, there were tears) and frustrated (yes, there was yelling) and put-out (yes, there was complete meltdown) that I was making her late for class.

What?!!

Where was the kiss? the hug? the “You’re the best, Mom!”? or even the smile?

I mean, look at the score! I have given my whole life for this girl. I was violently ill for a good three weeks just creating her mouth, which was now screaming at me. To say nothing of the ensuing years I have spent attending to all her needs. And now she’s upset because I gave her ten dollars? Surely, I did not deserve this kind of treatment. I could not even look at her. I had to turn my head and wait for her to slam the door.

One day this fall, as I was driving Caleb home from swimming, the discussion turned serious. As the tears slid down his earnest cheeks he explained how he had been having some strange dreams. And then he said, with a heart brimming with heavy burden, “Mom, I think maybe Heavenly Father is trying to tell me something, but I don’t know what it is. I’m worried I can’t understand what He’s telling me.”

My heart broke as I looked at the load my son carries, the ache in his heart to be as perfect as he can, the earnestness with which he has always lived his life. He has lived his ten years with intent, on a mission, like he has something to do and so he better just get about doing it. His guilelessness was my undoing. And I wept for my boy that has a head full of such serious thoughts.

As my heart throbbed and my throat burned, I remembered another boy who came to earth with a heavy mission to fulfill. I saw a little more clearly, what that really cost him. He gave up his whole life, not just his life. And I thought of His mother and wondered about her grief as she watched him grow to manhood with the weight of the entire world on his slender shoulders. With her weight as well. And I wondered how she could stand it.

Look at the score. He came to earth, born with the burden of eternity already on him, bound by his word and his covenant to save us all. And yet, He never looked at the score, never counted the cost, gave everything without requiring anything in return.

As I drove away from my daughter that Tuesday morning, my heart ached and I sobbed all the way home, realizing that I had not treated her as Christ would have, that I could not manage to treat my own precious daughter with true kindness, with true beneficence. My sacrifice was a stingy sham, only an imitation of the real thing. I was awestruck, again, at how Christ does it. How he could make such a complete sacrifice, and then never turn his back when we forget, when we make mistakes, when we are angry about the way He gives his gifts. He never resents us or turns His head. I found this unfathomable. I went home and knelt down and prayed for forgiveness, again. And He graciously granted it, again.

“O to grace, how great the debtor

Daily I’m constrained to be!”

This is why we kneel and worship Him at this Christmas season and always. Because no matter our reaction, his response is always love. I imagine his little newborn heart beating away, already heavy because of what was to come. Not because of destiny, but because of His choice. He was a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief, and a boy also. We give glory and humble praise to Him who knows how to love us and succor us and save us even when we don’t deserve it, and whose kindness and beneficence are real and everlasting.

With love and wonder at His love,

David, April, Caleb, Olivia, Savannah, and Ethan

Word of the Week: Incandescent

incandescent /adj./  very bright.  shining brilliantly. beaming, effulgent, radiant.  a high degree of emotion, intensity, or brilliance.

incandescent /adj./  1.  My husband finally got all the Christmas lights hung and our house is again dressed for the season in all its incandescent luster.  For over a week, he had only the trunk of one orange tree strung with red lights.  The rest of the house was dark.  It looked like the burning bush, and I told David that people were going to think we worship Moses.

incandescent /adj./  2.  My heart lept with incandescent joy, when I found this card from Barb in my mail among my Christmas cards and bills.  My first "good mail."  I hung the card on my sewing room wall, next to my Will Rogers postcard.   (I secretly think the woman in the card is incandescently giddy over her "seat assignment.")

incandescent /vt. and adj./  3.  I was thrilled to finish a few Christmas projects this week...namely the Christmas cards

and a project I have been working on as part of a gift for my girls.  They are "pencil rolls," which I made and filled with markers and colored pencils.  I am absolutely incandescent about the way they turned out.  And I can't wait for the looks on their incandescent faces on Christmas morning.

  

incandescent /adj./ 4.  There are moments in motherhood that are so full and sweet that it makes all the other moments "worth it."   Incandescent is the only way to describe my heart as I went to Caleb's violin recital this week.  He kept smiling at us throughout his performance, to reassure us that he knew what he was doing and that he was enjoying himself.  I just sat there grinning at him as he played through all the variations of "Twinkle," looking up to smile at us every few measures.

He's the one with the incandescent grin in the middle of the back row.