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.

Word of the Week: Lugubrious

lugubrious  /adj./  mournful, dismal, or gloomy, especially in an affected, exaggerated, or unrelieved manner.  crestfallen.  disconsolate.  glum.  woebegone.

lugubrious  /adj./  1.  Sometimes the word-of-the week makes me feel a bit cursed...like a crystal ball for my coming week or a fortune cookie that is always right.  This makes me think I should be more careful about my choices.  Nevertheless, the word was "lugubrious" and I felt it haunting me all week.  I was completely lugubrious most of the day Tuesday preparing for New Beginnings, feeling like my to-do list was too long.  I felt utterly woebegone by Wednesday, when I faced a crisis of confidence, and by Thursday night I was wholly disconsolate over the state of my house and laundry.  David will be thrilled when this word-of-the-week is behind me.

lugubrious  /adj./  2.  We went on another family bike ride on Saturday.  We usually try to ride along the canals (safer than the roads with the kids)  but we got a bit lost trying to find a connecting canal to where we wanted to go.  There was a steep hill that we thought might connect them and so I walked down to check it out.  Olivia decided to ride down and got going way too fast.  I could see her barrelling down the hill, utter terror on her face and at the bottom a large, deep canal with no barrier between her and the water.  I screamed for her to brake, but this only made her bike fishtail and so I stepped in front of the bike, sending both of us and the bike flying into the dirt, but thankfully not into the water.   As you can imagine, she was extremely lugubrious about the crash, especially mournful about my bruises, but her lugubrious spirit perked up a bit when we pointed out that she was still dry...and alive.

lugubrious  /adj./  3.  Ethan has been lugubrious every week at church since he moved from Sunbeams up to CTR 5.  His lugubriousness has even started on Saturday evenings, knowing what is coming, and escalating to tears by the time we are taking the walk to class.  I think this stems less from his lack of desire to "choose the right" as it does from the fact that his last teacher was a wonder...better than Barney and Captain Kangaroo and Mary Poppins all rolled into one.  Every Sunday we ask him what he learned and he can't come up with anything...too busy being woebegone to listen, I imagine.

lugubrious  /adj./  4.  We had big plans for a big family reunion with David's side of the family this summer on Lake Charlevoix in Michigan.  Unfortunately, the reunion was cancelled and we have been quite lugubrious about our foiled plans.  But on Monday we finally got over our dismal disappointment and started making plans of our own.  Actually got out the calendar and the atlas...both good signs.  Got online and checked out rentals on Mackinac Island...also a good sign.  Hopefully the lugubriousness is past and the excitement of planning another Michigan family vacation can begin in earnest.

lugubrious  /adj./  5.  I will probably do another post about this in the next few days, but I just found out that President Gordon B. Hinckley, the prophet and president of our church, died this evening.  How dearly I loved him.  How glorious must have been his reunion today with his darling Marjorie.  What a life of love and service.  I am lugubrious about our loss, but so happy for his homecoming...it must have been quite a gathering, though he probably only had eyes for his sweetheart.  My heavy heart will miss him terribly.

I don't think this amazing lady was lugubrious a day in her life...oh, I how love them both!

A Crisis of Confidence Among Other Things

My head is spinning this morning...no real idea what to write, but feeling a need to say something in order to quiet my brain.  So this may be random and rant-like.  Ran-derful.

1.  We had New Beginnings for the young women in our church congregation on Wednesday night.  On Tuesday night with my list still long and my heart in full-fledged panic, I had to go to a meeting for something completely different.  I was reluctant to attend and had the thought that maybe all the parents of my young women and the young women themselves, were probably all just as reluctant to attend New Beginnings and, among other things, listen to me talk again.  I was seized by angst and beside myself thinking about the evening we had planned and what was surely going to be  a waste of everyone's time.

My husband's response:  "You do this [freak out] every time.  It'll be fine."

But as I got closer and closer to the event, my heart was failing. 

I had written a little skit for part of the night...just to make the girl's laugh with their leaders, and teach a little point...and feeling sick about the whole thing, I asked my counselor, "Is the skit just dumb?"

Silence.

Then she said, "Um.  Well, I think it teaches a point."

Okay...

This is not good.

By Wednesday at 5, I was beside myself.   As you can imagine, RIM and CIM were raging.

And after all that...it turned out beautifully.  I honestly think it could not have gone better.  I believe it blessed the girls' lives.  So why the crisis of confidence?  Why can't I just have more faith?  Why do I berate myself?

My house was a wreck.  Still is.  (Just didn't have the heart to do anything yesterday.)  Why can't I just prepare...steady and confidently...so that I don't have these crises of laundry and faith, where everything stops and I lose my mind for three days?

I don't know.  But it's a problem.

2.  Our theme for New Beginnings was "Put Your Best Foot Forward."  And I had all the girls bring one of their shoes to display, something that said something about them...their talents, or their personalities.  It was like a little snapshot of each of them.  Very fun.  The little skit was all about the "De-Feets" of Personal Progress, excuses that they might meet along their way to getting their YW medallions.  (Busy feet, Casual feet, Old feet, Baby feet, Tired feet, and Finished feet.)  My laurels spotlighted the new girls who entered our program and my mia maids did a beautiful musical number.  My heart was busting with pride for all of them.

Anyway, I don't have a good picture because there were too many people by the time the girls arrived with their shoes, but this gives you a little idea.

My short remarks were about the 2008 theme of "Steadfast and Immovable," which went right in with our feet theme.   At the end of it, I talked about the rainboots...how they need to be steadfast and immovable because "the rains" will come.  (The rains came down and the floods came up, and the house on the rock stood still.)

3.  Yesterday I met Rachel and Christine and my aunt Tori  over at my mom's house for lunch and a meeting about Quilt Retreat this year.  (All you Family Piecers out there, get ready...it is going to be so much fun!  Your invitations should be in the mail next week...provided I finally get my Monday laundry done today.)  Every year all my aunts and their girls get together for a big quilting/sewing/talking/laughing weekend.  (This is our eleventh year!)  And this year it's our turn to plan and host it and we are so, so excited.  To quote my cousin Andrea, "Can life get any better than this?  I submit that it CANNOT!"  It is the exact antidote for a crisis of confidence...to be in a house with 30 women who love you and know you and believe in you despite what they know...to laugh and talk and cry with them...it is the best therapy, the most fun, and I absolutely cannot wait. 

This is our group photo and "finished" project from 2006...(we celebrate all the various "states of doneness").  Do we look tired?  We haven't slept in three days...I can't wait!

Logging Lots of Miles But Making No Progress

Today was just gorgeous here.  I watched the national news and they talked all about the absolute freezing temperatures across the country.  Just brutal.  But it was beautiful and sunny here in our world.

David took half the day off and we went on a 16-mile bike ride over into another city suburb, and spent a couple of hours at a park.  It was heaven.  My kids pedalled their little legs off and my tailbone is still sore, but we were all proud of our long ride.

But now I'm back in the bowels of hell and trying hard to remember to embrace the entropy because the panic is starting to rise inside me.

My laundry has not been started and my washing machine isn't working, (of course!) my house is filthy, and I have New Beginnings on Wednesday night.  It's hard to know where to start...can I ignore it all until Thursday morning?  I'm going to need some dark glasses and some air freshener.

While we were out at the park David reminded me that he proposed on Martin Luther King Day, 13 years ago...(He was very against proposing on a major holiday so, in an effort to nudge him along, Kelly and Amy made him a list of all the minor holidays from the end of December until the end of March.  He chose this one over Groundhog Day and the U.K. Banking Holiday.  I still have their note.)   I congratulated him on the anniversary of the day he made the best decision of his life.

We hiked up to Delicate Arch (our place) and David proposed under it...it looked remarkably like this picture with snow on the mountains behind it... 

Life has not turned out the way I thought it would.  I don't even have the ring he gave me that day any more.  (It was stolen when our house was broken into a couple of years ago.)  But given the choice, I would say "yes" again, a thousand times over.  (I'm not sure he would ask again, even on a minor holiday, but nevertheless...)  We've logged a lot of miles together since that day, and sometimes I'm not sure we are really making any progress, but there is no one I'd rather be riding with. 

Word of the Week: Deportment

deportment  /n./  a manner of personal conduct; behavior.  actions.  bearing.  mannerism.  mien.  air or appearance.  demeanor.

deportment  /n./  1.  Ethan's deportment, especially in comparison to all the other darlings in my home, can only be described as "enthusiastic" (wild).  Tonight he went to my parent's house for games and waffles and came home with a deep gash over his eye.  David, who had big plans to watch the final episode of the Amazing Race, sighed deeply as he prepared to go and pick him up.  I asked him if we was sighing about fatherhood in general or just this one boy.   For a man who loves being at the hospital, David's whole deportment showed real reluctance to go sit in the ER  with his little boy tonight.  I was off to a Girls' Camp meeting (yes, already!) and so David steri-stripped his eyelid together and called it good.

 

deportment  /n./  2.  Olivia was in tears after primary today and,  sobbing, accused us of "lying to her all this time."  What about?  She claimed we never told her that the blessing of living together forever as a family depended on our deportment.  She was quite discomfited to know that she had to be good in order to have this blessing.  Oh my.  That's a rather large hole in her spiritual education. 

deportment  /n./  3.  We have a new "wholesome recreational activity" that is an absolute riot.  We've taken up bike riding.  I gave David a tandem bike for Christmas and we have been riding all around our neighborhood.  On Saturday we went on our first really long ride...about 6 miles?...and had so much fun.  Our new hobby has even had some effect on our general deportment...David was home before 6:00 two nights this week (!) so we could take a bike ride, and I have actually enjoyed the fresh air and exercise. 

                                   This photo was taken on our family bike ride around Mackinac Island this past summer...                                                    easily one of the best days of my life.

deportment  /n./  4.   To my utter wonder, the "word of the week" is changing the deportment of bloggers everywhere...well, at least in my corner of the blogosphere.  I think there were eight word-of-the-weekers who wrote about "charily."  This personally brought me endless delight, not to mention the joy it most certainly brought these eloquent writers.  Fabulous.

I Am Anna Arkadeyevna

I finished Anna Karenina last night.  *Deep breath.*  And I was astounded by many things.  (You can check recommended reading for my full review.)  But the one which has me quite disconcerted is this:  I am Anna Arkadeyevna. 

Yes, really.

Our similarities are so striking, it's a little scary.  What do we know about Anna?

• She is unbelievably gorgeous.
• Men fall in love with her after one meeting.

Check.  check.

• She lives in Russia.
• She committed adultery and feels absolutely no remorse.

Okay, maybe we're not exactly alike.  (Thank heavens.)

But here's the rub...her CIM and my CIM have the exact same script!  I kept thinking, "She's crazy.  She's crazy.  She's just got to stop thinking!"  As I was telling David all about her and how she ends up in the way she does, he was grinning from ear to ear.  Because he knows as well as I do, that I'm as crazy as she is.

"She did not want strife, she blamed him for wanting to quarrel, but unconsciously put herself into an attitude of antagonism."

"She was glad of this appeal for tenderness.  But some strange force of evil would not let her give herself up to her feelings, as though the rules of warfare would not permit her to surrender."

"For an instant she had a clear vision of what she was doing, and was horrified at how she had fallen away from her resolution.  But even though she knew it was her own ruin, she could not restrain herself, could not keep herself from proving to him that he was wrong, could not give way to him."

"She felt like a fight."  (This line alone!)

"And remembering all the cruel words he had said, Anna supplied, too, the words he had unmistakably wished to say and could have said to her, and she grew more and more exasperated....All the most cruel words that a brutal man could say, he said to her in her imagination, and she could not forgive him for them, as though he had actually said them."  (Ha!  Seriously, how did Tolstoy know?)

Some of you, those who don't know me well, are by now shocked and horrified.  Those of you that know me well are simply nodding your heads, empathetically wondering how David has managed to hold me together all these years.  Occasionally I read a book that changes my behavior.  Angle of Repose was like that for me.  I hope Anna Karenina will be the same way.  That I will remember Anna when my resolution to embrace wavers.   Stop thinking, be quiet, and embrace. 

SPT: A Closer Look

The place in my home that gets the most attention is my kitchen.  (After I typed "my" I thought, "I ought to write 'our'," but I really do consider it to be my domain...and mine in every way.)  It is the place where I do all of my cooking, almost all of my homework-helping, much of my listening, a lot of my praying, lots of my crying, some of my laughing, most of my problem-solving, quite a bit of my thinking, much of my homemaking, and most of my nurturing.  It is the center of life for me in my home.  I believe in hearth and home, and in many ways this room is both for me.

When we bought this house I was overwhelmed and, frankly, disgusted by its appearance.  I cried a lot at first.  But the room that just broke my heart was the kitchen.  It seemed so long and narrow with dark cupboards and "busy" granite that didn't match.  There were flourescent lights overhead and weird wire plant shelves in the window.  I looked down that long dark hallway and thought, "I'm never going to be able to cook in here." 

After consulting with my remodelling company (me and my Uncle David), I decided to refinish the cupboards rather than replacing them.  I spent 6 weeks hard-labor on those cupboards.  I cleaned and stripped and sanded and primed and painted and sanded and painted and sealed and painted and sanded and painted and sealed and stained and rubbed and sealed again, until my arms ached.  They were worth every effort, and completely transformed my kitchen.  When I finished I told David that I didn't deserve to live in a house this nice.  I love them and jokingly told my husband that these cupboards better be in my mansion in heaven.   (His eyes replied that even the "mansion in heaven" may be getting my hopes too high.)

I am more happy than I can say working away in my kitchen.  It is where I find true expression in my homemaking and mothering, and I believe even though it is usually not a reverent place, most of the things that I do in it are sacred. 

Word of the Week: Charily

charily  /adv./  gingerly,  carefully.  warily.  guardedly.  cautiously.  also sparingly or frugally.   

charily  /adv./  1.  Olivia charily faced her first detention this week with fear and trepidation.  Upon arriving home she reported that she was the only one (of three) that showed up for the detention.  The other parents called and "threatened the teacher" (her words, not mine)  and got their children excused.   She was a bit disgruntled that her parents had not come to her aid, but I charily explained why I thought it was important she take responsibility for her actions...and she reported that she felt good about this too.  All's well that end's well.  And there was no poisoning or hitting, always a plus.

charily  /adv./  2.  I began reading Anna Karenina after Christmas vacation.  I admit I started the book charily, a bit daunted by its size and my recollection of the complexity of War and Peace, in combination with my limited reading schedule.  But I find myself absolutely hooked, and quite unable to concentrate on my "to do lists."  Last night I even dreamt about Kitty and Levin.  My guarded admiration has turned into a full-blown crush.   

 I am most stunned by Tolstoy's remarkable insights into life, that apply to me as easily here in the 21st century as they did to the people who first read his book.  I offer this pearl as evidence:  "...the children themselves were even now repaying her in small joys for her sufferings.  Those joys were so small that they passed unnoticed, like gold in sand, and at bad moments she could see nothing but the pain, nothing but sand;  but there were good moments too when she saw nothing but joy, nothing but gold."   (page 245 in my translation)

charily  /adv./  3.  We had a surprise visit from an old friend and her children this week.  I met Alexis at a back-to-school picnic/social when we were first starting grad school in Minnesota, over a decade ago.  It was one of those moments where the kinship was immediate...both of us far away from home, charily starting "real life," trying to support our brand-new husbands through their master's programs.  We haven't seen eachother since Olivia was a baby, but it felt like no time had passed at all.  All of our kids made fast friends, had an impromptu sleepover, and wept at goodbye.

This is a very old photo...she has five kids now, but it's one which I still have up in my house because I love it so much.  Our husbands look remarkably alike...their professors used to get them mixed up all the time.

charily  /adv./  4.   I chose "embrace" for my word of the year.  And the universe laughed.  This has been a most difficult week for "embracing" and today I was reminded of the scripture that says "there is a time to refrain from embracing," which only increased my discomfort with my word.   Already knee-deep in guilt and regret and "buts," I have decided to stop charily analyzing every situation where I might "get hurt" and try an "embrace experiment."  Do you remember that Seinfield episode where George decides to do the opposite of his natural instinct?  This is my idea with the embrace experiment.  I will give it one week.  I figure I have nothing to lose...just one week.  I will do the opposite of what my natural instinct is...stop running, stop fighting, stop protecting myself...(is it sad that these reactions are my natural instincts?) and try to completely embrace the people around me, no matter what.  I will do the opposite.  Turn the cheek.  Expose my neck.  Unwrap my heart.  Lay it bare.  Be vulnerable.  Without charily questioning the risks...just embrace, and see what happens. 

Maybe I will find that there is no poisoning or hitting as well.

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.

*Orange* You Glad I Didn't Say Banana?

It's that time of year again.

My orange trees are laden with fruit.  I am the worst gardener, orchard keeper, Lady of the vineyard, and green thumb around.  And yet, my trees produce fruit every new year without fail.  I forget to water.  I never fertilize.  I don't know what the word "prune" means in the verb sense.  But you just can't stop my trees. 

 

And so, it is orange season around here.

My kids are picking.  I'm juicing and juicing and juicing and making loads of orange chicken. 

We have more oranges than we know what to do with. We may even have to try to marmalade this year.  I need to do some research to see if it's possible to get Vitamin C poisoning.

Using a method I learned in my college astronomy class to count stars, I counted my oranges. 

10,500.

Oranges.

At least!

Seriously.

Now that's a lot of marmalade.  Even for the English.

___________________________________________________________________

If you'd like me to send you a box of oranges, just email me (you can use the link on my sidebar even though it looks imposing...I don't know how to change that).  Come on, I know you Canadians would love a box of sunshine right about now.  Actually, I'll just send one anyway...I already know where a few of you are.  And if any of you have any recipes with oranges, orange juice, orange peel, orange-on-the-side, looks-lovely-with-an-orange-slice-garnish, please pass them along.