The Scientific Method

By Saturday, David's diet was reduced to bananas, rice, apples, and toast.  Without butter.  (He'd want me to point that out.)  By Sunday, even this seemed gluttonous, as he was limited to this:

in preparation for a couple of scopes his doctor is doing this morning.  We are looking (literally) everywhere for answers, and this is part of the process of eliminating one "cause" at a time.  I have my own hypothesis about his gallbladder, but we'll see.       

Caleb spent his weekend finishing his science fair project.  I spent mine playing assistant and editor.

He would like you to know that your hand sanitizer is completely ineffective.  I told him I'd tell you.  He thinks more people read this blog than actually do, and he would like to warn the world "before something bad happens."  Knowledge can be a burden.

Likening

We were reading Isaiah's poetry this morning at scripture study.  And this line stuck out at me:

"And I did it because I knew that thou art obstinate, (who, me?)

and thy neck is an iron sinew,

and thy brow brass;"

Let's be honest.  Isaiah is just plain brilliant.

And just as I was repenting of my brass brow and stiff neck, I got a call from David telling me he had just admitted himself to the emergency room.

I arrived to find him hooked up to the EKG machine. 

Which would soften anyone's iron sinew.

They did some blood work, and an ultrasound, and took his blood pressure.  They could find nothing wrong, which was horribly embarrassing to him and a glorious relief to me.  He kissed me hard and went to his next meeting.

I told him I loved him.  And vowed inside to soften my neck and my heart, for real this time. 

It is very tiresome living with regret.

Me as Daredevil

Today I cleaned my tub,

and erased every last bit of evidence of this:

(After David took this picture on Saturday night he dared me to post it on my blog. 

I raised my eyebrows to say "Are you sure you want to make that dare?" 

But he just smiled and said, "I double dare you." 

I reminded him that we go to church with people who read my blog and this particular moment was clearly more hedonist than god-fearing. 

He just shrugged and doubled the dare again. 

I'm not sure what I get for completing the dare, but I'm sure it's going to be good.)

I sent Olivia into my bathroom on Sunday morning for the curling iron, forgetting the aftermath.  She came out with her hands on her hips and asked, dismayed, "What went on in there last night?"

I played dumb. 

She narrowed her eyes accusingly, "I saw Martinelli's and chocolate-covered strawberries." 

"Um...," I said, wondering how much to share.

And then, just before I said too much, she huffed, "I know you ate them without us."

Guilty as charged. 

Grammy-Award Winning Wheezing

My mind has been on Reuben Land this morning.

My boys and my husband are spending most of their energy just breathing in and out.

David is down to having enough breath for one-word answers: "Yes."  "No."  "Bad."

The only good part of that is that he doesn't have enough breath to pick out a tie, so he's home for the day.  When I muttered something about it being about time, he just winked at me and said, "We can play."  But this proved to be too many words at once and he started into a fantastic coughing, wheezing fit.  Careful there, cowboy.  In his condition, even Scrabble might be too taxing.

This morning at scripture study, Caleb had to stop and catch his breath every four words or so.  It was so pathetic I made him stop after a couple of verses.  I told him to put his backpack away.  He wasn't going anywhere.  Luckily, he didn't have enough breath to put up any kind of resistance.  He just closed his eyes and said, "Thank you."

In other news, Coldplay won the Grammy last night for "Song of the Year" for Viva la Vida.  Which was obvious.  Gosh, I love that song.  Reminds me of the magical days I spent with my children in the upper peninsula this summer.  And Adele won the Grammy for "Best New Artist."  David clapped.  Which was easier than using his lungs to say, "Hey, I like Adele too."  He's a fan.  Chasing Pavements accompanies his shower and shave most mornings.  What is it about musicians from across the pond?

And before I go pick up Caleb's four prescriptions and do another round of nursing, here's a little proof from David's blackberry that my Arizona boys can Klondike with the best of them.

When they got home, David took to his bed for the rest of the day and I took Caleb to a youth orchestra audition.  He got word Saturday night that he made it.

Then I took Caleb and Olivia and Ethan to the Chinese Cultural Center to celebrate the Chinese New Year for a school assignment.  My favorite part was sharing a dozen potstickers while we sat on the lawn and enjoyed a perfect February gloaming.

We had the most gorgeous thunderstorm Sunday morning.  The kids were out picking oranges for our brunch when it started pouring.  They came in soaked and giggling as the lightning started cracking.  It was cloudy again this morning, prompting Olivia to close her eyes and fervently wish for rain again today.  And even though we ran the heater (mostly out of sentiment) on the way to the pediatrician this morning, there is just no stopping that Arizona sunshine.  It is already shining again.  I understand how she feels though...there is something quite romantic about an overcast sky.

And speaking of romance, the other day I overheard Olivia wistfully talking to her friend,

"We used to have a chicken named Lily.  I hope she's happy."

Long sigh.

"I hope she met a rooster to make out with so she can have lots of baby chicks."

What in the world? 

I laid on the grass and laughed my head off. 

Nursemaid to One

David stopped breathing this morning at five o'clock and it woke me up.  And then there was a gasp and all kinds of wheezing coming from his side of the bed.

I got up and found the nebulizer and fixed him a fresh batch of albuterol cocktail.

He and Caleb are supposed to be going on a Klondike campout tonight.

He said between wheezes, "I'm going to die in that tent tonight."

I told him that in all likelihood he probably wouldn't die, but that it may, indeed, be a very long night.  Regardless of his imminent demise, he has plans to put on his tie and blearily sit through some meetings today.  Even now he is simultaneously puffing away on the nebulizer and putting his blackberry through its paces.

When Caleb came to ask what was for breakfast, he quietly added that he had thought he had a cold.  He does.  His whole face was running.  (Truth be told, I am just relieved that it's not E.coli.  I've been on high-alert ever since our little live cultures were delivered.)  I tried (hard) to talk him into staying home, but he said he had two tests.  I sighed and told him to call me after they were over. 

However, Ethan was still in his pajamas at breakfast, where he announced that he was too sick to go to school. 

"My neck hurts."

"Inside or out?"

"Inside."

He is staying home.  No cajoling needed.  Letter G can wait.  I snuggled him back into bed, with promises of soup and apple juice and a Home Alone marathon when he wakes up.

I propped David and Caleb up with day-time cold medicine and resignedly sent them on their way.  But, I'm thinking now that I should have switched the dosage to the night-time stuff when they weren't looking, because my patient-load should really be three.

Punctuated with Kisses

(Ya, that's right, I'm posting this picture again.  It's the best kissing picture I've ever taken.  So there.)

This morning David kissed me and I said, "Stop kissing me with punctuation."

To which he said, "What?"

It may be the writer in me overstepping her bounds, but sometimes I can see the punctuation in his kisses.  And this morning it was all periods. 

And I said, "You know what I mean."

And then, because he did know what I meant, he said hopefully, "Was it a comma?  Or an exclamation point?"

And I said, "You know very well it was a period."

And he said, "I think you're wrong."

And then he kissed me some more to prove me wrong and just as the punctuation was starting to turn into an ellipsis, the phone rang.

It was the hospital.  Wondering if they could function without him.  The answer was no.  And just like that my ellipsis turned into a dash.  For later.

Word of the Week: Detritus

detritus  /n./  rock in small particles or other material worn or broken away from a mass, as by the action of water or glacial ice.  any disintegrated material.  debris.  fragments.  garbage or waste.  matter.  rubbish.  scree.  silt.  tuff.  rubble.  shavings.  leavings.

detritus  /n./  1.  I have always loved this word.  The letters themselves, put together in this combination, sound like the leftover sand and rocks rolling around in the bottom of a beach bag.  And in addition to that, it is my constant companion.  Detritus and entropy dog me ceaselessly.

detritus  /n./  2.  I have to admit I almost discontinued "word-of-the-week."  It felt almost like the detritus of another time, and that maybe I ought go in a different direction with my blog this year.  But then I realized I had only posted once between my last two SPT's.  Apparently, I need more reasons to post, not less.

detritus  /n./  3.  Last week was rough.  Re-entry into regular life after two weeks vacation with my darlings was harsh and shocking.  It always is.  When I commented just that, David only said resignedly, "I knew it would be."  Last Monday, when I found myself surrounded on all sides by detritus of every kind (laundry, holiday decorations, suitcases and boxes from our trip to Michigan, ashes in the fireplace, and new toys with no "home") and simultaneously deserted by everyone I live with, a small rebellion ensued.  Not to mention a hearty resentment stew boiling away in my hard heart.  There was enough there to last more than a few days.  But eventually, I cleaned up both the detritus and my heart (you can guess which one took longer), and by Saturday night, it was livable here again.

 detritus  /n./  4.  By the end of last year, working (blogging and editing pictures) on our home computer was just about impossible.  There is so much detritus on there from programs the kids have uploaded and downloaded and generally unloaded on there, that it has brought it to an almost excruciating standstill when you're trying to do anything requiring even the least bit of memory.  David, seeing my plight, bought me a brand new Dell laptop for Christmas.  And in particular, a red one.  He was very specific about that last point.  I was so shocked and confused when I opened it (I thought it was an electric skillet?) I started bawling from the surprise.  (I'm sure that will shock most of you, considering my decidedly un-lachrymose nature.  Last night I did start bawling while I was making hamburgers, but my blood sugar was low, so there.)  Anyway, I am feeling extremely blessed to be using it.  In addition to all this, David spent a good two and a half hours on the phone and on the computer getting my wireless internet hooked up on Thursday night.  I know how lucky I am.  (Especially considering everything in the paragraph above.) 

detritus  /n./  5.  It seems we barely put away the detritus of the space station project, and Caleb is already nudging me to help him start his science project.  He told me yesterday, "Mom, I really think we need to order those petri dishes today."  I really think Target should have a petri dish section.

detritus  /n./  6.  In an effort to clear up some of the detritus leftover from last year and "start fresh," we finished reading the Book of Mormon this past week.  We read the last chapter of Moroni together on Tuesday night and then ate cake.  We believe in celebration around here. 

Proof I Can Be a Good Wife

And how.

David had a breakfast potluck party this morning.  I made the Lemon Blueberry Poppy Seed bread, which, I believe, first made its debut appearance at Tiff's bridal shower.  (Kel is the one with the memory so she will probably correct me on this.) 

I thought I ought to document the moment.  Just to be fair.  I was afraid the jamba juice incident might have left a bad impression.

You'll notice that I took the picture in the girls' bedroom.  The light is best in there in the morning.  And I wanted good, solid, and also, lovely proof.  There you go.

And now for your reading enjoyment I will give you the conversation that got us to here, along with the interpretation in italics of what was actually said.  Pay attention, it's subtle:

Last night as we were leaving Olivia's concert,

David said casually, "They're having a breakfast potluck for my boss's birthday in the morning.  I think I'm going to pick up some donuts."  (Don't be angry.  Please.  But I need you to make something fabulous.)

So then I said, "When is this potluck?  (Grrr. )

David:  Tomorrow.  (Yikes.  This is already going badly.)

Me:  You need to give me some notice.  (There's a whole unattractive rant here about how I'm just supposed to be able to whip up something wonderful at a moment's notice.  I'll just leave that out.)

David:  I didn't want to add anything to your plate.  (Earlier this week you were positively scary to live with.)

Me:  I guess I could make the lemon poppy seed bread if you go to the store.  (That's true.  I have been hard to live with.  But still.  A little notice.)

David:  I think I'm just going to sleep in.  (Thank you, sweets.)

I know you think I got that last line wrong, but I was dead on, as evidenced by the fact that as soon as we got home, David got out the cookbook, made a mental list, and went to the store.

Now that I reread that, I'm not sure what I just proved.  Just look at the picture.  That part was nice. 

December, Four Days In

So here's the thing.  The longer I go without blogging, the less I have to say.

It's true.

And now I just wrote a whole post, ready to publish and everything, and it disappeared into cyberspace.  Which is vexing.  Austen never had this problem.  All that cleverness gone, me the only witness.  Like I said, vexing. 

Anyway, we've had a bit of a rocky start into December, but the end of November was quite nice, so I will start there.

We had a lovely Thanksgiving, thank you very much.  I think my favorite part was the little place cards the girls created for everyone at the table.  The big dilemma was whether the person in question was more of a "pilgrim" or more of a "Native American."  My place card was a Native American, "even though I like church" (their words).

  

We played hours and hours of games over the holiday, much to Caleb's delight.  We even finally read the directions to "Dutch Blitz" and were soundly beaten by David.  Caleb ruefully pointed out that he got the game for his birthday (in June!) and this was the first time we had played it.  The height of tragedy.

We had a little party on Saturday night with my brothers and their families.  We had dinner and played a new game called "Say Anything" which turned out to be a lot of fun.  A couple of them even commented, with surprise in their voices, how fun it was and how we ought to do it more often.  Amen to that.

And now for a few snapshots of December, four days in:

1.  Caleb had his big aerospace challenge all day on Tuesday.  He competed against 100 teams and did not win.  Not even an honorable mention.  We were sad, and me doubly so to see his palpable disappointment.  He really did do great though.  His team was visited by 10 teams of judges, all looking at different elements of the project.  My favorite moment happened when one of the judges asked Caleb about how big the space station was.  Caleb immediately replied, "The area of the torus is 42,223 meters squared."  The judge could not help grinning and neither could I.  We had a little bit of downtime between judging groups and once one of Caleb's friends asked where he was.  I said, "Pacing," and pointed to Caleb walking the hall talking to himself, going over figures in his mind.  I spent the whole day nearly bursting, alternating between pride and anxiety to see all his earnestness.

2.  The first of our Christmas string concerts is tonight and Olivia is delirious with anticipation and giddiness at the thought of "performing on stage" (which she says with dramatic emphasis).  She asked me what I thought performing would be like.  I said seriously, "Amazing."  And she said dreamily, "I thought so."

3.  Ethan came home from school yesterday with a note from the principal that he had been fist-fighting on the playground and she wrote specifically that, "he had to be pulled off the other student."  I know.  We found out later that it was a student who was three grades above him.  Heaven help me.  I told David that we're going to have to ban "A Christmas Story" from our holiday movie library. 

4.  I cleaned out my sewing room yesterday.  Found a home for my new disco ball motor and 16 wooden dowels with various-sized holes drilled through them.  (Apparently their story will never be told.  This is probably for the best.)  David is still smarting a bit from the jamba juice incident (as I like to refer to it), and shaking his head at how stubborn a person has to be to let perfectly good jamba juice melt into mush.  And I have no good answers for that.  I can only say that for me somehow "stress" is always connected inevitably with "distress."  Which is unfortunate.   

5.  Olivia left for school today clutching Caleb's copy of Fablehaven.  When I questioned her about the book choice she told me that her friends had told her that it was good and she was "desperate" (her word).  Fablehaven is about the exact opposite of Laura Ingalls Wilder, but she has been increasingly forlorn without something to read and I'm waiting for Christmas to introduce her to Anne with an "E".  She looked down at the book skeptically and then up at me and said, "Mom, I don't think I'm going to make it to Christmas.  And I mean it."

As an aside:   The kids were playing a game in which Olivia had to pick her favorite place to go on vacation...she chose Wisconsin (Laura's childhood home) over Hawaii and Disneyland and even Michigan.  David was flabbergasted.  I, however, completely understand this romantic non-logic.   

6.  We had our first gifts of the season on Tuesday night.  (It was supposed to be Monday, but we're not going to talk about Monday night.  Ever.)  This led to a sweet, spontaneous moment around our tree, which included singing a couple of Christmas hymns, all of us off-key but Olivia.  I'll admit I shed a few tears and finally felt a bit of Christmas spirit.  I always get a late start on holiday cheer, but I make up for it in the end.

 

Breathing a Sigh of Relief

David is making us cinnamon rolls (from a tube) and a couple of cups of hot chocolate.

(He's a peach.)

And I am breathing a sigh of relief.

I just finished speaking at Stake Standards Night.  After weeks of thinking and praying, and days of nerves (even RIM was starting to sound crazy!), I am so happy to have it done.

I said, "Let's eat some pie.  We need to celebrate."

But there was no pie, so we're making do.

I love my husband.

He has put up with my fussing for days.  I've been restlessly rolling around our bed for the last couple of mornings, nudging him awake with my nervous energy.  And this morning at church I buried my head in his shoulder and bit him I was so nervous.  He didn't even flinch.  At any of it.

As for the reviews:

David said it was "so good."  And he's the only one I care about anyway.  I like to imagine him sitting out there in the congregation thinking how lucky he is, "Hmmm, cute and clever.  I totally scored."

Or something like that.

Actually, his grin at the end was really just that...a grin for the end...of this particular "crisis."  Bless him, a thousand times over.

Now just one more speaking assignment and a miniature space station to create and power, and I will be back to "normal." 

Ha.  RIM is heartily scoffing at that.