It's that time of year again on the jolly Gulf Coast! My family and friends down in South Mississippi are stocking up and hunkering down, waiting for Hurricane Gustav to make landfall. They aren't directly in the path -- Gustav looks to be heading west of them -- but they'll get strong wind, gallons of rain, and possibly tornados. So please be praying for them.
-- SJ
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Saturday, August 30, 2008
The End
For Better or For Worse has come to an official close, although rumors (fueled by my husband in my case) say that she'll reprint older strips. I've caught this strip on and off over the years, but have followed it faithfully for the past few years. Sorry to see it end, but it's like finishing a good book: there's more story there, and you can imagine how it goes.
It's a bittersweet goodbye, isn't it, Miss Bev?
-- SJ
It's a bittersweet goodbye, isn't it, Miss Bev?
-- SJ
Friday, August 29, 2008
Migraine Musings
- I get migraine headaches if I don't get enough sleep. When I remember to eat a banana the morning after a bad night, though, I usually escape the headache.
- I forgot to eat a banana today.
- As recorded elsewhere, I don't think well during and after a headache. I called Darren on his way home from work to tell him that supper wasn't going to be made. He volunteered to bring something home. "Thanks," I said. "In my current state of mind, I'm likely to serve something like fried cucumbers."
- You laugh? Well. Darren briefly left his newspaper on the porch this afternoon. I wanted to keep it from blowing away. My addled mind completely overlooked the fact that our flowerbed is filled with little rocks, a handful of which would do the trick. Instead, I found myself thinking, "If I spray water on the paper, it won't blow away..." (No, Sarah M, I didn't.)
- The reason I didn't get enough sleep was because Darren and I stayed up too late talking. I'd do it all over again, too.
- Except that next time I'll eat a banana.
-- SJ
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
How Can This Be?
How can someone go from this:
to this:
in only two years? It's breathtaking.
Happy second birthday to the fiercely independent, amazingly cute, bright little blue-eyed Daphne Michele.
-- SJ
to this:
in only two years? It's breathtaking.
Happy second birthday to the fiercely independent, amazingly cute, bright little blue-eyed Daphne Michele.
-- SJ
Monday, August 25, 2008
To Pluralize or Not? Or Forget It?
I ended my last post with:
"... about half of all visits to our site comes from hers."
Did I get it right? Or should it be "half... come?"
***
And then I changed the line entirely. When in doubt, re-word.
-- SJ
"... about half of all visits to our site comes from hers."
Did I get it right? Or should it be "half... come?"
***
And then I changed the line entirely. When in doubt, re-word.
-- SJ
Blogroll
As you'll see if you look to the left (no, the other left, scroll down, yes, there), I've added some of the blogs on my blogroll. It's with fear and trepidation that I do this, because it seems to give a concrete number of blogs that I visit. So if yours doesn't appear, you then assume that maybe you and I didn't have that special something between us that you thought we did, and you're hurt. So, disclaimer: What with browsing, Facebook, and sharing lists with Darren, I actually "visit" more than appear here. I'll also be adding now and then. And if you make me mad, I'll take you off, HA! Wow, the power rush.
(Note: But I will never make Amy K mad at me, because according to Google Analytics, her blogroll sends probably half our visitors to us.)
-- SJ
(Note: But I will never make Amy K mad at me, because according to Google Analytics, her blogroll sends probably half our visitors to us.)
-- SJ
Around the House
A random collection of happenings around the Jones Place.
There's a similar picture of me at the same age, only I'm writing in a book with a pen. Daphne is of the new high-tech generation: she's got the dana.
Addie is my eager kitchen helper... um, sometimes I try to sneak into the kitchen to work without being noticed. But she's at the point now that she actually does help get things done faster. Here she's helping make Spice Chicken.
What lengths a little boy is pushed to when the computer won't work right! Stuart likes Scrabble, as long as he can spell words like "Quimzee" on Triple Letter Squares.
When Aunt Lindsay came to save the household from chaos after Darren's surgery, this is one way she ministered. Daphne still talks about how Aunt Winsey Painted Toes.
Well, this should shatter your rosy images of how great a house-husband Darren is. Here's photographic evidence that he just sits around with a bottle in his hand. Except he's reading because we don't have TV, and it's root beer, which really takes the edge off the whole concept.
Daphne offers Darren an upgrade in his bottle-drinking habits.
-- SJ
There's a similar picture of me at the same age, only I'm writing in a book with a pen. Daphne is of the new high-tech generation: she's got the dana.
Addie is my eager kitchen helper... um, sometimes I try to sneak into the kitchen to work without being noticed. But she's at the point now that she actually does help get things done faster. Here she's helping make Spice Chicken.
What lengths a little boy is pushed to when the computer won't work right! Stuart likes Scrabble, as long as he can spell words like "Quimzee" on Triple Letter Squares.
When Aunt Lindsay came to save the household from chaos after Darren's surgery, this is one way she ministered. Daphne still talks about how Aunt Winsey Painted Toes.
Well, this should shatter your rosy images of how great a house-husband Darren is. Here's photographic evidence that he just sits around with a bottle in his hand. Except he's reading because we don't have TV, and it's root beer, which really takes the edge off the whole concept.
Daphne offers Darren an upgrade in his bottle-drinking habits.
-- SJ
Friday, August 22, 2008
Systematic Choring
I didn't want to do it. I struggled against it for a long time before finally giving in. Not for myself, I said, but for the children. Whatever my reasons, it's done now.
I made up a weekly chore list.
It comes as no surprise to any readers of this blog that I've resisted weekly chore lists for my entire marriage. It was hard enough to get everything done without having a chart screaming at me to Get It Done or Else. Last week I decided to give it a shot, a trial run (of about half an hour) to confirm that I'd hate it. My motivation wasn't that the house was a wreck and I couldn't handle it: it was that the house had, miraculously and thanks to my husband's help, stayed clean for several days in a row. I wanted to keep it that way.
My aim was for simplicity: I wrote down one or two chores that I accomplish every day, then one extra like cleaning the bathroom or finishing two loads of laundry. Addie and Stuart have a couple of set pick-up times to keep the playing areas clean. And that's it.
It's been a week since I implemented it, and I'm chagrined to report that the house has stayed clean almost effortlessly. Not only that, but I got to utterly neglected chores like washing windows and cleaning out the shoe basket with half a year's worth of socks and outgrown shoes. In addition, Addie and Stuart have accepted the idea of set chores (we call them, um, "quests") to accomplish, after which they know they're off-duty again. To sweeten the experience, we've promised them a "treasure" at the end of each week: a gold dollar coin. It's a small price to pay for children who help keep the household going.
The real test will be in a couple of weeks when Darren is gone for several days. Darren is a key component in my plan to keep the house clean. He washes dishes, he does laundry, he cooks meals, and it is he who has taught the kids to pick up every evening. So will the house sink into chaos and clutter as usual when I'm on my own? With the chore system, it's just possible that it won't. And even if it does, now we have a system to return to when life gets back to normal.
-- SJ
I made up a weekly chore list.
It comes as no surprise to any readers of this blog that I've resisted weekly chore lists for my entire marriage. It was hard enough to get everything done without having a chart screaming at me to Get It Done or Else. Last week I decided to give it a shot, a trial run (of about half an hour) to confirm that I'd hate it. My motivation wasn't that the house was a wreck and I couldn't handle it: it was that the house had, miraculously and thanks to my husband's help, stayed clean for several days in a row. I wanted to keep it that way.
My aim was for simplicity: I wrote down one or two chores that I accomplish every day, then one extra like cleaning the bathroom or finishing two loads of laundry. Addie and Stuart have a couple of set pick-up times to keep the playing areas clean. And that's it.
It's been a week since I implemented it, and I'm chagrined to report that the house has stayed clean almost effortlessly. Not only that, but I got to utterly neglected chores like washing windows and cleaning out the shoe basket with half a year's worth of socks and outgrown shoes. In addition, Addie and Stuart have accepted the idea of set chores (we call them, um, "quests") to accomplish, after which they know they're off-duty again. To sweeten the experience, we've promised them a "treasure" at the end of each week: a gold dollar coin. It's a small price to pay for children who help keep the household going.
The real test will be in a couple of weeks when Darren is gone for several days. Darren is a key component in my plan to keep the house clean. He washes dishes, he does laundry, he cooks meals, and it is he who has taught the kids to pick up every evening. So will the house sink into chaos and clutter as usual when I'm on my own? With the chore system, it's just possible that it won't. And even if it does, now we have a system to return to when life gets back to normal.
-- SJ
Thursday, August 21, 2008
What We Think -- "Feed"
After I explained to Darren why yet another book irritated me, even reading a passage to two to bolster my case, I announced, "I am not this author's target audience."
Darren replied, "I don't think you're most authors' target audience."
Not entirely true. Take M. T. Anderson's Feed, for example.
Feed is set in some distant American future, so of course it's a dystopia. In this story, at least three generations have been implanted with a microchip -- "the feed" -- at birth. The chip is basically an internet connection, satellite TV package, and online shopping all integrated into your mental and physical processes. As the actual physical earth disintegrates from consumerism and neglect, humans are lulled into oblivion by the bright and noisy world of the feed in their heads. Think Wall-E without the cute robot.
The narrator is Titus, an older teen whose life is a perpetual attempt to stave off boredom. Titus and his friends have lost the capacity to express themselves except with the same eight or nine words (half of which are obscenities). They're slaves to the feed and never question what it tells them. Titus, however, shows some glimmerings of original thought. When he meets pretty, intelligent Violet, who actively fights the feed, he's fascinated by her. Eventually, however, he's torn between the easy life of non-thought, and Violet's more frightening life of courage and originality. The story is dramatic -- but just believable -- extrapolation of how we are conditioned by today's "feed."
It's not just the story that makes this book a good read, though. As anyone who has slogged through my reviews and rants knows, the writing itself has to speak to me. I savor the way the author introduces his world to me. He never grabs me by the arm and parades me through the wonders he has created. Instead, he drops enough references and casual explanations that you gradually grasp what Titus sees when he wakes up every morning. For instance, the family is eating supper, which ends with a tiff (Titus's parents are as immature and uninformed as Titus himself). Dad gets up, picks up the plates, and "throws them into the thing, the incinerator." Mom, meanwhile, "crumples up the disposable table and chairs." Those two sentences rearrange your entire perception of a family dinner, and speak volumes about the society they live in.
One personal perk was that for much of her life, Violet didn't attend "School (TM)." (Even the educational system is trademarked.) She was homeschooled. Homeschoolers running against the current and fighting conformity and non-thought? Obviously a very perceptive author.
It's not a happy book, although it is entertaining. Also, if you're bothered by profanity, you won't like the dialogue. I find it justified given the setting.
I first read this book about two years ago. You know how you fall in love with a book, and then pick it up again a year later, and wonder what fascinated you so much about it? That hasn't been the case with Feed. Every time I read it, I like it. I think I'm even willing to "go all the way" with it, and buy it.
-- SJ
Darren replied, "I don't think you're most authors' target audience."
Not entirely true. Take M. T. Anderson's Feed, for example.
Feed is set in some distant American future, so of course it's a dystopia. In this story, at least three generations have been implanted with a microchip -- "the feed" -- at birth. The chip is basically an internet connection, satellite TV package, and online shopping all integrated into your mental and physical processes. As the actual physical earth disintegrates from consumerism and neglect, humans are lulled into oblivion by the bright and noisy world of the feed in their heads. Think Wall-E without the cute robot.
The narrator is Titus, an older teen whose life is a perpetual attempt to stave off boredom. Titus and his friends have lost the capacity to express themselves except with the same eight or nine words (half of which are obscenities). They're slaves to the feed and never question what it tells them. Titus, however, shows some glimmerings of original thought. When he meets pretty, intelligent Violet, who actively fights the feed, he's fascinated by her. Eventually, however, he's torn between the easy life of non-thought, and Violet's more frightening life of courage and originality. The story is dramatic -- but just believable -- extrapolation of how we are conditioned by today's "feed."
It's not just the story that makes this book a good read, though. As anyone who has slogged through my reviews and rants knows, the writing itself has to speak to me. I savor the way the author introduces his world to me. He never grabs me by the arm and parades me through the wonders he has created. Instead, he drops enough references and casual explanations that you gradually grasp what Titus sees when he wakes up every morning. For instance, the family is eating supper, which ends with a tiff (Titus's parents are as immature and uninformed as Titus himself). Dad gets up, picks up the plates, and "throws them into the thing, the incinerator." Mom, meanwhile, "crumples up the disposable table and chairs." Those two sentences rearrange your entire perception of a family dinner, and speak volumes about the society they live in.
One personal perk was that for much of her life, Violet didn't attend "School (TM)." (Even the educational system is trademarked.) She was homeschooled. Homeschoolers running against the current and fighting conformity and non-thought? Obviously a very perceptive author.
It's not a happy book, although it is entertaining. Also, if you're bothered by profanity, you won't like the dialogue. I find it justified given the setting.
I first read this book about two years ago. You know how you fall in love with a book, and then pick it up again a year later, and wonder what fascinated you so much about it? That hasn't been the case with Feed. Every time I read it, I like it. I think I'm even willing to "go all the way" with it, and buy it.
-- SJ
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Observations
* Nothing focuses your goals quite so much as knowing your computer will blink off at any minute. (Yes, computer issues. You can send flowers.)
* Miley Cyrus (Hannah Montana) said in an interview that she's too old for Hannah stuff now and wants to move on to "edgier" and more mature things. Miley is 15 years old. She needs to enroll in the Celebrity Night School and take the Britney 101 course.
* It's possible to be mad at God and not know exactly why. Also it's easier to stuff down issues than try to talk about them, because talking about them gives you a terrible stomachache.
* Caffeine after a sleepless night is like an epidural during labor: It's possible to go on without it, but it's a whole lot more pleasant if you use it.
* I'm reading a book about the Sixties (written in the Eighties). People pretty much went crazy in the Sixties.
* I told Darren, "I'm glad we didn't live in the Sixties. We'd have been such squares." Pause. "Oh, wait. We ARE squares."
-- SJ
* Miley Cyrus (Hannah Montana) said in an interview that she's too old for Hannah stuff now and wants to move on to "edgier" and more mature things. Miley is 15 years old. She needs to enroll in the Celebrity Night School and take the Britney 101 course.
* It's possible to be mad at God and not know exactly why. Also it's easier to stuff down issues than try to talk about them, because talking about them gives you a terrible stomachache.
* Caffeine after a sleepless night is like an epidural during labor: It's possible to go on without it, but it's a whole lot more pleasant if you use it.
* I'm reading a book about the Sixties (written in the Eighties). People pretty much went crazy in the Sixties.
* I told Darren, "I'm glad we didn't live in the Sixties. We'd have been such squares." Pause. "Oh, wait. We ARE squares."
-- SJ
Saturday, August 16, 2008
What We Think -- "School for Sorcery"
E. Rose Sabin's "A School for Sorcery" is like a glass of sparkling apple cider that's been left in the fridge for three days.
The book is set is some imaginary country with a 1900s-American feel to it: railroads, middy blouses and long skirts, trunks instead of suitcases. (The author does, however, bestow modern indoor plumbing on her inhabitants.) Tria is a poor farm girl who is magically gifted. Her mother scrapes together the money to send her off to school. Tria is very disappointed when she arrives: the school is dirty and ramshackle, the food almost inedible, and she's stuck with an unfriendly roomate who shape-shifts into a panther when she gets angry. Tria discovers that she has a depth of power she didn't realize, but the only classes she's allowed to attend focus on theory -- especially dry lectures on the ethics of magic use. When one of the other students starts to go bad, contacting the evil Dire Women to increase his power and take over the school, it's up to Tria to rescue her friends and save the school (and, ultimately, the country).
With such a zinger of a premise, it's really too bad that the author, instead of writing the story, simply compiled her notes into prose form.
A good school-of-magic author (see: J. K. Rowling) knows how to emphasize the important events of a story, and fill in the background with the smaller events. Sabin never gets that knack. She devotes one paltry line to the fact that the catgirl roommate agrees to ally with Tria to defend against the enemy, while giving two full paragraphs to describing how Tria and a friend give away sweets to two boys during a town trip. The after-effects of a deadly magic duel are completely overshadowed by the breathless question of who will be asked to the Midwinter Ball by whom. Even the most horrifying and dramatic scenes -- involving living corpses and grisly torment -- are rendered flat by passive writing. I continually found myself re-reading passages to find out, wait, how did that character get hurt so badly? Oh, here it is in the middle of this block of prose.
So much of the text (you know a story's in trouble if the reader thinks of it as "text") exists simply to get the reader to the next part of the story. Sabin utterly neglects the interesting bits of her world, like how the shabby school gradually changes appearance as Tria attains higher levels of magic. The author does, however, linger over elaborate descriptions of inter-demensional worlds that have nothing to do with character development or plot. Some readers might actually skip that entire section of the book.
Then, to rub salt into the wound, the last two chapters span two years in a chunk. There's enough information here for another book. Characters are disposed of in a line or two, and the ultimate fate of Tria herself rings hollow. You feel as if Tria hasn't emailed or called in two years, then invites you to celebrate how much she's accomplished all that time she wasn't speaking to you.
I admit I'm a hard reader to please, but I did open this book with a willing heart. Unlike the last disaster I encountered, I read this one all the way to the end. It had good stuff in it, just not much skill in execution. There are two more books in this series, and I want to get the second one to see if Sabin's writing has improved any (it worked with Sanderson's "Mistborn"). But I'm afraid this book isn't a promise of great things to come.
-- SJ
The book is set is some imaginary country with a 1900s-American feel to it: railroads, middy blouses and long skirts, trunks instead of suitcases. (The author does, however, bestow modern indoor plumbing on her inhabitants.) Tria is a poor farm girl who is magically gifted. Her mother scrapes together the money to send her off to school. Tria is very disappointed when she arrives: the school is dirty and ramshackle, the food almost inedible, and she's stuck with an unfriendly roomate who shape-shifts into a panther when she gets angry. Tria discovers that she has a depth of power she didn't realize, but the only classes she's allowed to attend focus on theory -- especially dry lectures on the ethics of magic use. When one of the other students starts to go bad, contacting the evil Dire Women to increase his power and take over the school, it's up to Tria to rescue her friends and save the school (and, ultimately, the country).
With such a zinger of a premise, it's really too bad that the author, instead of writing the story, simply compiled her notes into prose form.
A good school-of-magic author (see: J. K. Rowling) knows how to emphasize the important events of a story, and fill in the background with the smaller events. Sabin never gets that knack. She devotes one paltry line to the fact that the catgirl roommate agrees to ally with Tria to defend against the enemy, while giving two full paragraphs to describing how Tria and a friend give away sweets to two boys during a town trip. The after-effects of a deadly magic duel are completely overshadowed by the breathless question of who will be asked to the Midwinter Ball by whom. Even the most horrifying and dramatic scenes -- involving living corpses and grisly torment -- are rendered flat by passive writing. I continually found myself re-reading passages to find out, wait, how did that character get hurt so badly? Oh, here it is in the middle of this block of prose.
So much of the text (you know a story's in trouble if the reader thinks of it as "text") exists simply to get the reader to the next part of the story. Sabin utterly neglects the interesting bits of her world, like how the shabby school gradually changes appearance as Tria attains higher levels of magic. The author does, however, linger over elaborate descriptions of inter-demensional worlds that have nothing to do with character development or plot. Some readers might actually skip that entire section of the book.
Then, to rub salt into the wound, the last two chapters span two years in a chunk. There's enough information here for another book. Characters are disposed of in a line or two, and the ultimate fate of Tria herself rings hollow. You feel as if Tria hasn't emailed or called in two years, then invites you to celebrate how much she's accomplished all that time she wasn't speaking to you.
I admit I'm a hard reader to please, but I did open this book with a willing heart. Unlike the last disaster I encountered, I read this one all the way to the end. It had good stuff in it, just not much skill in execution. There are two more books in this series, and I want to get the second one to see if Sabin's writing has improved any (it worked with Sanderson's "Mistborn"). But I'm afraid this book isn't a promise of great things to come.
-- SJ
Friday, August 15, 2008
Linkage
I don't often link to other blogs, mainly because I'm lazy. This morning, I want to write a new post, but I'm uncreative. Uncreativity trumps laziness: here are a few blog posts that interested me this morning.
J posts about Online Forum Personalities. I was part of one particular online discussion (it's left me far behind, still ongoing after a year and hundreds of posts) that was populated by the first character. None of whom could ever understand why dissenting newcomers complained of being boarded, keelhauled, and sunk after about ten posts.
Claire claims I inspired her post, but actually she was just channelling me when she wrote it.
On the other hand, I don't want to say that everyone should live the low-key, homebody life we do. Barbara is one of those amazing women whose children are busy, the family is happy, and she refinishes the basement floor all by herself.
I wish Queen of Carrots would rent out her sister.
And celebrity wannabes beware: YOU might like that bizarre name, but YOU'RE not the one who has to live with it.
-- SJ
J posts about Online Forum Personalities. I was part of one particular online discussion (it's left me far behind, still ongoing after a year and hundreds of posts) that was populated by the first character. None of whom could ever understand why dissenting newcomers complained of being boarded, keelhauled, and sunk after about ten posts.
Claire claims I inspired her post, but actually she was just channelling me when she wrote it.
On the other hand, I don't want to say that everyone should live the low-key, homebody life we do. Barbara is one of those amazing women whose children are busy, the family is happy, and she refinishes the basement floor all by herself.
I wish Queen of Carrots would rent out her sister.
And celebrity wannabes beware: YOU might like that bizarre name, but YOU'RE not the one who has to live with it.
-- SJ
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Five and a Half
We stuck it out for a year, but this week we officially decided that Tae Kwon Do is a finished experiment. Darren had to stop back in February because of his neck, and I think the kids' interest drained once Daddy wasn't involved. Also there was the matter of class structure and having to do things a certain way, which my kids consider serious killjoys.
Trying to think of another activity to fill in the void, I came up with a couple of ideas for Addie. Nothing for Stuart, though. I bemoaned this fact to Darren, who said, "He doesn't have to have something to do, you know. He's only five and a half years old."
I stopped. It's the accepted thing here that you'll have your children in at least one organized activity, possibly before they're actually born. Truth is, Stuart doesn't actually have to be enrolled in an activity or sport. He's only five and a half: plenty of time for structure and sports later, if that's what he likes. For now, he can stay at home and run around the yard, pretending to be various computer-game characters. And we don't have to load up twice a week to get to some sort of activity on time, then rush home to get supper done on time. That's our preferred style of life: it's good to know that we're free to do it that way.
-- SJ
Trying to think of another activity to fill in the void, I came up with a couple of ideas for Addie. Nothing for Stuart, though. I bemoaned this fact to Darren, who said, "He doesn't have to have something to do, you know. He's only five and a half years old."
I stopped. It's the accepted thing here that you'll have your children in at least one organized activity, possibly before they're actually born. Truth is, Stuart doesn't actually have to be enrolled in an activity or sport. He's only five and a half: plenty of time for structure and sports later, if that's what he likes. For now, he can stay at home and run around the yard, pretending to be various computer-game characters. And we don't have to load up twice a week to get to some sort of activity on time, then rush home to get supper done on time. That's our preferred style of life: it's good to know that we're free to do it that way.
-- SJ
Emptiness
Despite the title, this isn't as interesting a post as someone deep and reflective could make it. The emptiness I refer to is my mind. I can't think of anything new to post that doesn't involve kids. Even the last thing I read was "Family Fun" magazine.
We get vegetables from a farm every week, and I still can't figure out what to do with the squash. I'm all for cooking and eating it, except I'd have to taste it that way.
The other day, I hadn't had enough sleep, so my personality was lacking in, um, bearableness. About halfway through the afternoon, I realized, Wow, I'm being so nice and handling things so well! I couldn't manage to fall asleep for nap, but I was lying in bed coming up with all kinds of creative ideas for my history class next month. And then I remembered that I'd ordered a blended iced coffee that morning and forgotten to specify "decaf." The magic was caffeine. I am herewith stocking up on caffeine for an upcoming ordeal, when Darren will be gone for five days.
My normal breakfast these days is chocolate graham crackers and milk. I'm going to go get some.
-- SJ
We get vegetables from a farm every week, and I still can't figure out what to do with the squash. I'm all for cooking and eating it, except I'd have to taste it that way.
The other day, I hadn't had enough sleep, so my personality was lacking in, um, bearableness. About halfway through the afternoon, I realized, Wow, I'm being so nice and handling things so well! I couldn't manage to fall asleep for nap, but I was lying in bed coming up with all kinds of creative ideas for my history class next month. And then I remembered that I'd ordered a blended iced coffee that morning and forgotten to specify "decaf." The magic was caffeine. I am herewith stocking up on caffeine for an upcoming ordeal, when Darren will be gone for five days.
My normal breakfast these days is chocolate graham crackers and milk. I'm going to go get some.
-- SJ
Saturday, August 09, 2008
Computer Geek: Family Planning
Stuart said, "Mama, I would like you to give birth to another baby...
(*melty feeling in my heart*)
... so we can get a new computer chair."
(*melty feeling congeals into bewilderment*)
"Because then I'd sit in the new one, and the new baby would sit on our black one we have now. I want a red -- no, a blue -- no, I want a gold computer chair."
-- SJ
(*melty feeling in my heart*)
... so we can get a new computer chair."
(*melty feeling congeals into bewilderment*)
"Because then I'd sit in the new one, and the new baby would sit on our black one we have now. I want a red -- no, a blue -- no, I want a gold computer chair."
-- SJ
Friday, August 08, 2008
JAMBOG Awards Coming To You
Well, to six of you.
It's taken a while (no surprise), but the six Participant Awards for JAMBOG are ready to go. Which one will be yours?
Queen of Carrots, Amy Sita, Wendy, Charlessa, Zana, and Joanna... please send your mailing address to the comcast address over to the left (above the picture). Your awards will go in the mail as soon as I'm certain I know where to send them!
-- SJ
It's taken a while (no surprise), but the six Participant Awards for JAMBOG are ready to go. Which one will be yours?
Queen of Carrots, Amy Sita, Wendy, Charlessa, Zana, and Joanna... please send your mailing address to the comcast address over to the left (above the picture). Your awards will go in the mail as soon as I'm certain I know where to send them!
-- SJ
Thursday, August 07, 2008
Navigating the Crunch
Darren and I have been feeling the crunch and pinch of a couple with young children, and have been working on ways to keep our heads above the water. Since there's no way to accomplish my preferred remedy -- getting someone to keep our kids for a week or a day or JUST MORE THAN THREE HOURS AT A TIME -- we've talked about other ideas.
He found one book in the library about things couples can do to stay connected. Lots of good ideas, although halfway through I checked the author bio and, sure enough, she lives with her husband and her dog. No kids. So she blithely writes things like, "Choose a class for both of you to take," or "Make a firm commitment to go out once a week." Even the suggestion, "Take a walk in the evenings -- it's good exercise, too!" doesn't take into account that if your children are under twelve, you've got to have a babysitter for that, too. As far as I can tell, you've got to wait about twelve years into your marriage before you can take most of the marriage-building advice in these books.
Probably I should stop here and follow this particular author's favorite advice, which is Breathing. She loves Breathing. She suggests that you finish every meal by Breathing Deeply Three Times. Or that you call one another and simply listen to each other's Breathing. Darren would probably enjoy that: right now he listens to me field requests, settle disputes, and throw a few comments in his direction before he has to get off and get back to work.
This author doesn't think on our wavelength in general. She mentions renewing vows, and adds: "My fantasy: Reaffirming our vows to one another in the wilderness, with the dog as our witness."
I read this out loud to Darren, who remarked, "Huh. She's dyslexic."
-- SJ
He found one book in the library about things couples can do to stay connected. Lots of good ideas, although halfway through I checked the author bio and, sure enough, she lives with her husband and her dog. No kids. So she blithely writes things like, "Choose a class for both of you to take," or "Make a firm commitment to go out once a week." Even the suggestion, "Take a walk in the evenings -- it's good exercise, too!" doesn't take into account that if your children are under twelve, you've got to have a babysitter for that, too. As far as I can tell, you've got to wait about twelve years into your marriage before you can take most of the marriage-building advice in these books.
Probably I should stop here and follow this particular author's favorite advice, which is Breathing. She loves Breathing. She suggests that you finish every meal by Breathing Deeply Three Times. Or that you call one another and simply listen to each other's Breathing. Darren would probably enjoy that: right now he listens to me field requests, settle disputes, and throw a few comments in his direction before he has to get off and get back to work.
This author doesn't think on our wavelength in general. She mentions renewing vows, and adds: "My fantasy: Reaffirming our vows to one another in the wilderness, with the dog as our witness."
I read this out loud to Darren, who remarked, "Huh. She's dyslexic."
-- SJ
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
Me in Music
I downloaded a playlist of my own songs onto Darren's MP3 player to listen to as I ride my bike. Two revelations:
1. It's nice to listen to my own favorite songs, even though I like most of Darren's taste (I refuse to endorse his throwback 80s liking for Petra, though.)
2. I like Waltz of the Wind, Unchained Melody, The Call. How can somebody so actively unsentimental create a personal mix of such soupiness?
-- SJ
1. It's nice to listen to my own favorite songs, even though I like most of Darren's taste (I refuse to endorse his throwback 80s liking for Petra, though.)
2. I like Waltz of the Wind, Unchained Melody, The Call. How can somebody so actively unsentimental create a personal mix of such soupiness?
-- SJ
Sunday, August 03, 2008
Communication: A Good Thing
All the personality tests, love language descriptions, and “what Jane Austen hero are you” quizzes agree: Darren and I are remarkably compatible. We have the same general tastes, like the same types of foods, enjoy many of the same activities, and share a high tolerance for clutter and mess. Consequently, we’ve avoided some of the routine personality conflicts that most married couples run in to. Pretty nice that we’ve got it so easy, eh?
Except that such easy compatibility comes with its own set of problems, as we discovered this past weekend.
We went down to Florida together, each operating under assumptions that we never actually discussed with one another. Why bother? We know how the other operates. Unfortunately, while Darren thought he was giving me exactly the vacation I wanted, I thought he was leaving me in the lurch while he went off to enjoy the conference. It was not a successful chapter in our marriage.
When we got home, the conflict was resolved mostly by writing letters to each other because we deal with things so much better in writing. We know now where we went wrong; the air between us is clear. But we’re sorry we didn’t perform this marvel of communication before the trip.
We’ve agreed that from now on, before any major trip we’ll write essays entitled, “What I Hope To Get Out of My Trip” and exchange them for reading and discussion.
-- SJ
Except that such easy compatibility comes with its own set of problems, as we discovered this past weekend.
We went down to Florida together, each operating under assumptions that we never actually discussed with one another. Why bother? We know how the other operates. Unfortunately, while Darren thought he was giving me exactly the vacation I wanted, I thought he was leaving me in the lurch while he went off to enjoy the conference. It was not a successful chapter in our marriage.
When we got home, the conflict was resolved mostly by writing letters to each other because we deal with things so much better in writing. We know now where we went wrong; the air between us is clear. But we’re sorry we didn’t perform this marvel of communication before the trip.
We’ve agreed that from now on, before any major trip we’ll write essays entitled, “What I Hope To Get Out of My Trip” and exchange them for reading and discussion.
-- SJ
Saturday, August 02, 2008
Mundania 18
* We just got back from Orlando, Florida, for our communion-wide church convocation that's held every four years. Not always in Florida, mind you. Next convocation will be in Madrid, Spain. Glad we caught this one. There was something for everyone on this trip: Darren enjoyed the services, I got to see my good friend Jenna, Addie and Stuart got to see lizards, and Daphne enjoyed nightly stroller rides as her parents desperately tried to get her to go to sleep.
* Names that I encountered this week: Agata, Brayan, and China Doll (it was on her nametag, no kidding).
* Last week we all got sick. But not all at once, no! We spread out the fun, so that I got the yucky stomach on Thursday, the girls got it on Friday night, Darren got it on Saturday, Stuart on Sunday, and then just for fun, I got it again on Monday! Only I didn't mind as much Monday because Darren took that day off so I was able to lie in bed and Be Sick without having to Be Mama at the same time.
* Darren has been hoarse for -- well, how long ago was his surgery? Seven weeks? His voice has improved a tiny bit every day, but still very little actual voice tone and no volume at all. Friday morning, all of a sudden, it clicked back in. It's so nice to hear his voice again. Even better, he can sing again.
* Speaking of singing, Daphne is quite the little songbird. She used to ask us to sing to her, but now she just announces that she will do the honors, thank you kindly and shut up: "No, Mama! No sing! Daffy sing Hadafarm! [Old McDonald]."
* Addie, when Darren and I got back from a date to Harper's Ferry, which we insisted on keeping even though he was recovering from the Yucky and I was coming down with it again: "Daddy! I'm sorry to say that your girlfriend..." Pause. That wasn't the right term. "...that your date mate is sick."
* Stuart is asking deep theological questions these days. "Are there computers in Heaven?"
-- SJ
* Names that I encountered this week: Agata, Brayan, and China Doll (it was on her nametag, no kidding).
* Last week we all got sick. But not all at once, no! We spread out the fun, so that I got the yucky stomach on Thursday, the girls got it on Friday night, Darren got it on Saturday, Stuart on Sunday, and then just for fun, I got it again on Monday! Only I didn't mind as much Monday because Darren took that day off so I was able to lie in bed and Be Sick without having to Be Mama at the same time.
* Darren has been hoarse for -- well, how long ago was his surgery? Seven weeks? His voice has improved a tiny bit every day, but still very little actual voice tone and no volume at all. Friday morning, all of a sudden, it clicked back in. It's so nice to hear his voice again. Even better, he can sing again.
* Speaking of singing, Daphne is quite the little songbird. She used to ask us to sing to her, but now she just announces that she will do the honors, thank you kindly and shut up: "No, Mama! No sing! Daffy sing Hadafarm! [Old McDonald]."
* Addie, when Darren and I got back from a date to Harper's Ferry, which we insisted on keeping even though he was recovering from the Yucky and I was coming down with it again: "Daddy! I'm sorry to say that your girlfriend..." Pause. That wasn't the right term. "...that your date mate is sick."
* Stuart is asking deep theological questions these days. "Are there computers in Heaven?"
-- SJ
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
