What's Different About This Picture?

Here are two pictures of my house. See if you can spot the big difference:

Picture #1


Picture #2




Right! We took the toybox off the porch!

No, wait... We removed the tall prickly evil evergreen from the far corner of the house!

Oh, hey, the flowerbeds are different.

Um, is that a new place to leave the hose?

But of course you're all just kidding, because what you noticed in the second picture -- in fact, you really didn't see anything else -- were those shutters. The once-boring black shutters that are now stylish grey and red. What else is there even to see?

Why, thank you. I admit I spent an entire week repainting them. Very gratifying that you noticed them.

-- SJ

What I Didn't Do, Retake

I recently posted about what I didn't do when I had the chance to throw a perfect stranger for a loop by repeating a conversation I'd heard her have at an entirely different place. Two separate friends mentioned the post to me afterward, and I realized that other readers may have misunderstood my point.

I'm not an avenging Green Angel. I don't much care for the Green Morality that makes people feel guilty for, basically, living on earth. But I do care about being frugal and not being wasteful. It bothers me that I throw out food so easily. I dislike the way I don't try to reuse even glass containers. I wish we weren't all so dependent on electricity and cars. I have no idea how to can fruit. It's irritating that we live in a society where you have to apologize for wearing the same outfit more than two days in a row. I rant and rage when appliances break after five years, and computers are obsolete after two.

Given all that, I don't spend a lot of mental energy disapproving of what temperature other people set their air conditioners on. If she'd been talking about clothes shopping, it would have been just as funny (and I just as unlikely) to sidle up to her and say, "Hey, I think you should have bought the blue shirt at Kohl's after all."

There are so many real things to feel guilty about. Don't waste it all on Ziploc bags and thermostat settings.

-- SJ

Refreshed and Updated

Notice that the blog's wardrobe has been updated? Also, clicking on the title will now take you back to the home page, a feature that hasn't worked for a while. All this due, once again, to the photography and web wizardry of Kelly. In her non-web-designing life, she takes amazing pictures. You should check out her photography blog and see. Really, this is what you should do today.

And meanwhile, Keeping Up is enjoying the freshened-up look. Thanks, Kelly!

-- SJ

The Memory of A Tree

When we moved into our house eight years ago, there was a small Bradford pear tree in the front yard. As the children got bigger, it got bigger. Addie, Stuart, and Mollie all began their tree-climbing skills on this tree. I've played with four babies underneath its shade. Daphne adopted one short branch as her own personal "baby dragon" and liked me to hoist her up on it so she could "fly." That tree meant a lot to us.

About five years ago, a friend mentioned that Bradford pears had a tendency to split once they got too big. About two weeks ago, Debra mentioned the same fact. Are you getting the sense that this story has sort of a tragic ending?

Here's a picture of The Tree from 2007. (In the foreground are the four Evil Bushes that encroached on my front porch until I hired someone to rip them out.)


Six-year-old Addie spent many happy hours in The Tree:



By the spring of 08, The Tree was a pretty respectable size, especially for six-year-old Stuart and two-year-old Daphne:


Last fall, there was enough of The Tree to provide refuge for little boys who didn't want to start co-op.



In the summer of 09, Daphne flew many miles with her Baby Dragon:



My niece Katie caught Pip enjoying The Tree this past spring:



And this summer, Daphne was still flying:


But here's where the story gets sad. This afternoon, a freak windstorm screamed through our neighborhood.














Stuart says he likes the "new version" of The Tree, and there were kids swarming over the fallen branches all afternoon and evening. There have been many tears (all female) over the fact that we have to have The Tree chopped down. Let's don't even discuss Daphne and her Baby Dragon.

We've lost a good friend. We'll miss The Tree.


-- SJ

Pip Plays Ball

The title says it all. Phillip can amuse himself for hours (read: fifteen minutes) with a ball and open spaces. This is mostly for the grandparents and other family, as usual, but the rest of y'all are welcome to think it's wonderful too.

-- SJ

P.S. The out-of-focus experience bothers me, but you can hear the clickle-click of the lens as it is constantly adjusting so I guess you can't accuse the camera of not trying.

XP in the Garden

This appeared in my newly-planted flowerbed:




And it had everything to do with ChoreWars.

I stumbled on ChoreWars from a Facebook friend's comment. I was caught by the tagline: "Finally, you can claim experience points for housework!" Then I noticed the Quest Party with cleaning tools, and knew that this site was made for the Joneses.

The concept is simple enough: you write up everyday chores as "adventures," assigning each one experience points (XP) and gold pieces. You can also throw in treasures, monsters, and character statistics if you want to. When a party member does that chore, he or she "claims" it, earning the XP and gold points.

What you do with your points, pieces, and monsters is up to you. In our house, we have rewards for every 500, 1000, or 2000 gold pieces. Since you "level up" with each 200 XP, I'm going to create a reward for whoever reaches Level 10.

Anyway, what does all this geekiness have to do with empty raisin and Nerds boxes on twigs?

Anyone who has followed this blog will be absolutely unsurprised to find out that ChoreWars is the ultimate motivation for Stuart. All I have to say is, "You'll get XP for this," and he transforms in to the Industrious Whirlwind of Cleaning (which sounds like something from Titan Quest).

A few days ago, I created an Adventure called "Making the Garden Pretty." Stuart was off playing with his friend Evan, but I invited Addie and Daphne to help me weed the garden and plant our new flowers. We were finished by the time Stuart came home. As soon as he saw all the work we did, he was visibly upset. "I didn't know you were going to be doing that adventure."

Very shortly, he came inside and said, "Mama, I helped make the garden pretty. Can I get XP for it?"

As I stared at the boxes and sticks, he explained, "I didn't have any real flowers, so I made some. Doesn't it kind of look like flowers in tiny flowerpots? Can I get XP for that?"

That, folks, is motivation. No, he didn't get XP for it. Yes, it's still in my garden.

-- SJ

P.S. Stuart's character is currently the highest-ranking member of the Questing Party.

P.P.S. As I was finishing this post, Stuart appeared and announced, "I brushed my teeth. Can you please claim that for me?" Well yeah I award XP for brushing teeth.

Recent Life in Pictures

Below is a picture of my neglected front flowerbed. I mean, if I'm going to take the trouble to neglect my flowerbed so that it looks like an industrial site abandoned and left to decay under weeds and trash, I'm going to be darn sure it's in the FRONT YARD so everybody can see it.

I once had it all cleaned out and filled up with white rocks, which looked crisp and tidy, but it didn't stay that way. That's probably because I spent last summer having a fourth child and have been trying to catch up with life ever since. So this past month, I caught up:

Front Flowerbed (left side) Before:



Front Flowerbed (left side) After:
Front Flowerbed (right side) Before:


Front Flowerbed (right side) After:
Next I'm tackling our shutters. The Sherwin-Williams paint store is my new hobby house.

Moving on, here's a picture of a cute kid. With two dimples and a very pleased expression because he got up on that chair all by himself.


To my sister-in-law, Pam: Do you remember this toy? It belonged to your kids. You passed it on to Addie when she was a toddler. It's gone through not only all four of my children, but every other child who has visited our house. Alas, I think it's finally done for, so I took a picture before I threw it out.

My good friend Debra came to visit, and I even got to talk to her sometimes in among the children who thought she (and her laptop) were quality stuff. Here's Debra Michele with her namesake Daphne Michele, who claimed Debra as her personal property:


We found a creek. We loved the creek. How could you not love this creek?




BFF! Or since sixth grade, which is practically the same thing.


-- SJ

Bad, Good, Worse, Better

Bad: The van couldn't pass inspection because its brake warning light wouldn't go off.

Good: The van could be fixed easily.

Bad: The van went in for repairs over the Fourth of July holiday, meaning it didn't get repaired until *after* the Fourth of July holiday.

Also Bad: Our other vehicle, Ferdinand, doesn't fit six people.

Worse: Darren left on Thursday for a weekend trip to California, taking Ferdinand to the airport. So we didn't have any vehicle AT ALL.

Also Worse: My old friend Debra ("old" as in "friend since sixth grade," not "aged") was in for an extremely rare, one-week visit. And we were housebound with no means to get anywhere.

Even Worse: After calling three rental agencies, we discovered that there were no minivans available.

Good: Darren works with very generous people.

Better: His co-worker, Tj, offered to let us borrow their second minivan for the weekend.

Even Better: He drove forty minutes to our house before work on morning and left it in our driveway, then carpooled with another co-worker.

* Let us pause for wild applause. *

Bad: The price to fix the electronic module in the van that controls the warning lights -- but doesn't in any way affect the actual operation and safety of the van, not that this fact bothers me in the slightest and certainly doesn't make me want to write blistering editorials about the inefficiency and stupidity of regulatory systems -- was beyond painful.

Good: Thanks to advice I found in the Dave Ramsey book I skimmed, we'd saved up an emergency fund so could pay for the repair without using credit.

Best: Debra and I had a great visit, Darren got home from California safely, the borrowed minivan was returned to Tj and Susan (applause, applause for Tj and Susan), and we got our own van back in good working condition.

Bad: Yesterday as Darren, Debra, and I were going out for a farewell Indian dinner, Ferdinand's battery was dead...

Go Back for Another Look

I started a cooking blog a few years ago. It was pretty fun, but it turns out that recipes and food aren't a consuming passion of mine. Besides, most of us who started the blog together kept having kids and life got really crowded.

But Alison wrote and asked if I'd mind if she took it over. Which I don't, and I'm glad to say that it's up and running again. Drop in at The Martha Blog for some recipes and discussion of meal planning, cheap dishes, and how you get a toddler to eat his vegetables. (I doubt "wait till he's not a toddler anymore" counts as sound advice.)

-- SJ

What I Didn't Do

It's been hot here. It's been so hot that even Debra, visiting from Mississippi, agreed it was hot.

But not that hot, she adds.

But ask anyone from around here, and you'll find out that it was so hot that we couldn't even go out of our houses until evening. And we talked about it. And the front page of the newspaper featured a graph of hot temperatures.

Yesterday it was cooler, so Deb and the kids and I went to a local farmer's market. ("Yay!" said the kids. "Apple cider doughnuts!" Also they sell fruit and vegetables.) There were a couple of other moms there. They didn't pay much attention to us, since they were visiting between themselves. They were talking about, you know, how hot it's been.

"We were stuck inside with our blinds shut. It was getting depressing! My AC is down to 72. And you know what? At naptime the other day, I laid on the couch to read... and I got a blanket! I actually felt a little cold! It was great!"

Then they left, saying they'd take their little ones out to lunch. Sometime later, Deb and I headed off as well. We drove around a while, then ended up at Chik-Fil-A for lunch. Who should we see there, but the women from the farmer's market?

I was so tempted. Well, not really. I'd never do it in person. But if I were a different person, here's what I'd have done.

I'd have gone up to her and said casually, "You know, it's really not a good use of resources to keep your AC so cold that you have to wear a blanket in the middle of the summer."

And then I've have shimmered away, leaving her wondering if I was some Green Angel come down from the Great Ecosystem in the Sky to remind her to take care of our planet. Ha! At least I can blog about it.

-- SJ

Nine Years of Addie

2003
Inviting her baby brother Stuart to watch a video with her: "Come on, Tutu! Videyedow!"

2004
Playing with toddler brother: "Noooo! Miiine!"

2005
"Yay! I have fifty cents! Now we can get married because it's not Halloween anymore!"

2006
"Speaking about God, baby birds go to sleep when their mamas feed them."

2007
"Excuse me, Miss, but I have enough strength to wrench that bar off your door." To a Ruby Tuesday's hostess.

2008
"This is my grandmother. She doesn't have a man with her because she's a widow."

2009
"It seems strange, in these quiet hours, to hear the snip snip and rattle rattle of paper as dolls come to form." Addie, making paper dolls with her cousin Courtney.

2010
"Frank is more my type of guy." Addie, discussing a newer, hipper series of Hardy Boys books.

When Darren asked her our bishop's favorite question, "What do you want from God?", she thought a while and replied, "For my whole family for generations and generations, for a peace of mind in answer to the question, "Is God real?" Fair request.

And what is she looking forward to this coming year, now that she's nine years old, the last year of her single-digit life? "For Mollie to come over and play."

She's nine years old, and our glimpses into her mind and heart have always been an adventure.

-- SJ and DJ, who are very very proud of their AMJ

Mundania 28

-- SJ

Occasionally I have to post a confession to bare my soul and help me move on. Here's another:

I don't like going to the library. It's like going to the dentist: "Okay, how much do I owe and how much will it hurt this time?" I'm also starting to doubt that there really are any other sections besides the children's section. Others talk about "young adult" or "adult fiction," , but I haven't seen them for a long time.

***

A couple of months ago, Darren and I saved up enough to buy a carbonator. It was a happy purchase. Happy, as in I drink several glasses of "fizzy water" a day. Happy, as in I'd bathe in the stuff if I could. We're both big fans of carbonated water, a taste not shared by practically anybody else we know. That's fine. More for us.

***

So, I thought Darren was Mr. Cleverest Man In the World to come up with our Weekend Goaway. But then my sister came up with a free date. But that's typical of Rose: our friend Becky once told her that the birds sing "Cheap, cheap, cheap!" to her.

***
I've read some books lately.

***

(I thought that item deserved its own space.)

The book I just finished is "Days of Fire and Glory" by Julia Duin. Considering it's a book about the Episcopalian charismatic revival in the 60s and 70s, that's about as generic a title as you can get. The book itself was a good read. A bit overlong. Duin is a religion journalist who was also on the edges of the charismatic revival, and refreshingly enough she doesn't bother to hide her bias as she writes.

The story centered on Redeemer Church in Houston, where there was an outpouring of gifts in the late 60s. As these stories usually go, the church went from vibrant and miraculous to institutionalized and authoritarian. Meanwhile, the leader forgot his early dedication to the poor and to God, and spent much of his later life living easy and dallying in sexual misconduct. If it were a novel, it would have been rejected as "cliched -- this story has been told hundreds of times."

I'm in the middle of another book entitled "Why We're Not Emergent (by Two Guys Who Should Be)" by Kevin DeYoung and Ted Kluck. Darren and I were all dazzle-eyed about the "emergent church" several years ago. We read Robert Webber's "The Younger Evangelicals" and Brian McLaren's "A New Kind of Christian" and Dan Kimball's "The Emergent Church" and then we said, "Well, that was fun. Now let's find somewhere that actually states orthodox beliefs and stands up for them."

The authors are Reformed, which isn't a camp I pitch my tent in, either. So there are times that I agree with the authors, and other times that I agree with the emergents. It's an easy read and one that, overall, I've enjoyed. I have gotten a little tired of Kluck's hip young-guy tone. Also he pastes in email exchanges between himself and friends. I hate email exchanges in books. If I want to read someone else's emails, I'll do so when nobody else is around and I'll choose which subject lines look the most interesting. Otherwise, just turn it into prose, okay?

***

Happy 4th of July! Yay flaming gunpowder traveling at high speeds in random directions! Makes me think of home, sigh.