Loud Timer

I have burned too many things since we moved. The timer on the stove is not loud, and it beeps for all of 3 seconds. I just don't hear the noise. Being terribly preoccupied recently, I forget the granola or the muffins. And they burn overbake.

So I set myself to the task of going shopping [UGGGGGGGHHH!] for a timer that I could hear. I read labels and labels and more labels. I finally found a timer at Linens & Things that had an "extra loud" alarm and would "turn itself off after 2 minutes to preserve the battery." When I got it home and tried it out, the beep was even quieter than the one on the stove and lasted for all of ten whoppin' seconds. (I still am entirely clueless as to WHAT turns off after 2 minutes to preserve the battery. Because it sure ain't the alarm-noise.) I was pleased with the the store and thankful for their cheerful refund of my money.

So I internet-searched. I found an "extra extra loud" timer. I bought it and it arrived today. It's still not quite what I want, but it's good enough. I wish it were louder, but it's a darn sight louder than any other timer I've run across in recent years. And while I was testing the new toy, Philip could hear it while he was vacuuming in the next room. That says something about the volume!

The alarm buzzes for a full 60 seconds. Wooo hooo! Long enough that there's still something buzzing even if you missed the start of the beep. Another nice feature is that it doesn't just turn off and beep when the time runs out. Instead, it starts counting up so that you know how long ago the timer ran out; that'll help too! If you miss the alarm, it's nice to know whether you missed it by 3 seconds or by 5 minutes.

Laundry Room

I had intended to take a picture of the laundry room (which would excite no one but Lauri) but it just won't cooperate. I tried with Paul's camera, and it didn't download onto my computer. So then Paul took a picture with his camera which worked just fine. So I tried in the laundry room again, and the camera told me it needed a recharged battery. Okay, okay, okay! I will QUIT trying to put a picture of my laundry room on my blog. The laundry room has some reason to hide in obscurity, and the cosmos is going along with the laundry room and taking sides against me. So no photo.

The thing that excites me about the laundry room is the lack of bugs. The photo would've shown stacks of folded laundry, divided up on the folding table according to the person the clothes belong to. At the old house we had to bring the stacks of laundry upstairs right away after folding. Or some people used a different method. Andrew SHOOOOOOOK his clothes out before putting them in his drawers. I mean, who wants to pull out your jammies or shirt out of the dresser, put it on, and find Asian beetles crawling down your back? Yuck!

But now we can fold the laundry and leave it on the table in the laundry room....
and NO bugs!!!
I find that exciting.

There's also this cool thing with the floor being dry. When I was at the parsonage picking up a load of stuff last week, tiny rivers were running through the basement. No surprise, but a very nice difference from the basement here. Rivers were still there on Sunday when Gary was at church. But by then he said it was getting rather stinky in the basement.

Pool

We were skeptical about the work needed to take care of a pool. When we were house-hunting, we had automatically crossed a house off the possibility-list if it had a pool. But this house had a good price and good location and good size, and we bought it anyway. We figured we'd try to learn how to work the chemicals and keep it clean and all that.

But now that spring has come and things are thawed, we find some holes in the pool liner. A couple of days ago it was half full. Right now there's only 8" of water in the pool. I talked to the guy at the pool-care store, and he said there are patches. But boy, when Andrew and I went out and looked, we are going to need a LOT of patches. Big patches.

So I looked online to get a rough idea of what a pool liner might cost. It's going to be $400 or more if we install it ourselves. I'm guessing it would be $1000 or more if we contact somebody who's got a clue as to what they're doing. Kinda pricey for something we were just going to "try out" for a couple of years, not sure we even wanted to mess with it in the first place.

And that's how life goes....

Blog Pictures

Good grief. I tried for 45 minutes last night to upload one picture. One! I don't know if it's the camera, or the computer, or my stupidity. According to the scientific method, I must eliminate variables. Given that Paul and Gary tried to help me, and we still couldn't upload a snapshot, I think my stupidity (although I'm not disputing it) was not the cause of the problem. Next variable: I'm going to borrow a camera from one of the boys and see if that's the trouble. If not, I'll assume it's the computer and give up on blog pictures until the day arrives when I am forced to replace my computer. Bummers. I love looking at the pictures on other people's blogs. It's often my favorite part of the blogs.

Living Independently

I heard it again on Saturday. I hear it at every single vcfs workshop I attend. I hear it in the literature. I hear it on the email lists. Whenever I read about special-ed, I hear it.

The goal is to help the children grow up to live independently.

Now, that is not a bad goal. After all, that's pretty much the goal for anybody raising any child. The particular academics aren't as important as the life-skills. The schoolwork is a means to educating the mind and imparting skills. But knowing how to brush your teeth, write a check, pick up your own messes, and do your laundry is primary. Most kids can catch onto the life skills and still immerse themselves in exciting studies on a wide variety of topics. But some kids have all they can manage in just getting down those life-skills. Special-ed instructors want to remind us of these priorities. And that's good.

Except...

I get tired of hearing how important it is for my child to grow up to live independently, given the definition of "living independently" that the "experts" use. They tell us how a child grows up to "live independently" with the government providing a check for his sustenance, with the government providing financial incentives to businesses to hire the person, and with the government providing a case-worker who helps the adult-child manage his money and remember doctor appointments and learn to grocery shop.

If a case-worker is there, hand-holding, teaching, guiding, then the only "independence" that the adult-child has is independence from the parents. He's not really independent. He's just not depending on family. I'm not necessarily saying there shouldn't be any of that assistance from the government. But WHY is that independence coveted, prized, and extolled, while getting the same help from his loved ones is considered unhealthy?

Physics

The basketball has been flat. Not flat enough that the kids can't use it, but flat enough that it takes a whole lot of oomph to get it to bounce back up to your hand when dribbling.

Been looking for a needle at every store I've been to. Haven't made a special trip to any store where I know for sure they would sell needles. But today I finally found the needle for the ball. I grabbed the bike pump, inflated the ball, and now it bounces.

But it bounces like it didn't bounce before. Andrew's aim is off. He knew the amount of rebound to expect. (Uh, that would be "very little" rebound!) The way he shot at the backboard took into account the utter unbounciness of the ball. And now his mom went and inflated the basketball. This is going to take some recalculation of angles.

Changes

In the midst of difficulties and anfechtung, it would be a whole lot easier to endure if they hadn't changed the pericopes, if they hadn't changed the words to the hymns that are a person's sustenance, if they hadn't changed the psalms to a new translation. As if there weren't enough struggles in life, a person can't even count on the Word that has been learned by heart to sustain her ... because it's all been changed with LSB to "improve" things.

The "F" in VCFS

Update in Sept 09: For those who are looking for photos, check out this post.



Our family knows about the C in vcfs. Maggie's been to the cardiologist at least once a year and had three surgeries.

We know about the V in vcfs. The velum (or soft palate) is often cleft, and Maggie had surgery to repair that. She and I also spent a lot of time and effort on speech therapy.

But the f, the "facial," was harder to grasp. The doctor who diagnosed her velo-cardio-facial syndrome said that the kids who have that deletion on that particular part of their 22nd chromosome have a certain look. He explained it. I've read about it. I've seen booklets with many many pictures of vcfs kids and adults. But I still don't quite see it. I can see what Down Syndrome looks like. The doctor tells me that vcfs has a "look" (just like Downs does) except that we're not as familiar with it.

Today Children's Hospital had a workshop presented by the author of a new book about educating kids with vcfs. (Learning disabilities is a big problem with vcfs.) When you walk into the room for child-care, and see a dozen or more vcfs kids and some siblings, boy oh boy, suddenly you get a feel for what that "f" stands for. It's easy to see how the kids look alike. And yet, sitting at lunch with their families, it was easy to see how they look just like their parents and brothers and sisters too. Maggie is ours. She looks like us -- especially like Katie! But today I saw how very very much she looks like other kids with vcfs.

At the Proper Time

We pray the psalm several times daily:
The eyes of all look to You, o Lord, and You give them their food at the proper time.


We've been watching a lot of Leave It to Beaver recently. It is SO good. It's funny. The Cleavers are not a picture-perfect family like some of the other 50s-tv families. They are flawed and sinful and selfish sometimes. But they're nice. And they're wholesome. They're not dysfunctional like most of the families on tv today. Ward is a strong father figure. And the show is just plain hilarious!

There's one problem with it. June always knows exactly how long till dinner. The whole family knows what time dinner is scheduled. "Mom, how long till dinner?" "It will be another 30 minutes, boys." Or "Mom, how long till we eat?" "You have five minutes. Pretty soon you'll need to go wash up."

At our house, far too often it's 2:30 or 3:00 before we sit down to eat lunch/dinner -- which ideally should be on the table at noon, but my more realistic goal is 1:00 or 1:30. I just want to laugh when we pray at the start of the meal, "You give them their food at the proper time." Well, God may be wanting to feed them at the proper time, but that mask [their mother] feeds them 2-3 hours later. Ooops.

Dakota Maid Flour

For years I have used Dakota Maid flour. The price was ideal -- less than half of Gold Medal or Pillsbury. The product was superior. I couldn't figure out why it was priced so nicely.

I know food prices have gone up. (Those blasted politicians and the global-warming elitists and their ethanol....) But what has happened to my flour prices has boggled the mind. 79 cents up to a year ago. Then 89 cents a bag. Up to $1.29 in fall. Up to $1.89 in January. This week it was $3.39 for a 5#-bag. Yikesy!! This time I bought King Arthur instead.

Wondering what happened, I started web-searching. Turns out that the Dakota Mill is the only government-owned mill in the country. I have this sinking feeling that someone discovered that their prices were low, and decided to quadruple the price to make up for having sold their product for too little for so many years. Granted, it's a superb product, but not many people are going to continue on as customers when the flour costs 50% more than the name-brand products.

A Little Cleavage

A word to Christian women --
When you look in the mirror on Sunday morning and see a little cleavage showing at the neckline of your dress or blouse, think what that would look like from above. Looking down your shirt from the top looks a lot different from what it looks like straight-on.

When your pastor (and maybe the elders) are serving communion, and you are kneeling, and they are feeding you (and thus having to look down in the direction of your mouth), the pastor is seeing a whole lot more cleavage than he sees when he shakes your hand after service -- a whole lot more cleavage than he wants to see.

Pastors don't usually want to say anything about this around their parishioners. They don't want to admit they're "looking"; it sounds pretty scandalous. But what else can they do in this situation?? A godly man can do a lot of "gaze averting." At the beach, at the store, at the ball park, or when a Victoria's Secret commercial comes on the tv, a man can discreetly look away. But when he is at the altar, serving God and serving his parishioners, putting Christ's body and blood into your mouth, he cannot look in a different direction.

Have pity on your pastor. Wear higher necklines on Sunday.

Robins' Return

Back at the parsonage, we've watched the annual robin wars. The males come back in spring a few weeks before the females. The males have to duke it out for their turf. There are several days after the fellas come back, prior to the territory being settled, when we could watch HOW the sections of the backyard and the trees were being divvied up. It is immensely interesting to watch.

A few weeks ago, Gary was at the parsonage on the weekend of the robin wars. I didn't get to see it. That was kinda sad.

When I said something to a friend about missing it, living in some subdivision, he told me that we're not really in a subdivision, but we're still in a rather countryish area. I tried to look on the bright side. I tried to appreciate the undeveloped areas around the ski hill nearby. I tried to remember how little yard and grass and meadow I would see if we had settled even more "in town." But I still was missing the country.

Today I had no laundry to drop off at the laundromat during matins. So I took a different path to church this morning. Oh my goodness! What a difference that made! Instead of heading south and then east, I headed east and then south. Usually I drive through a whole neighborhood full of $400,000 homes and then past a two malls and a Kohl's and a McDonalds and several banks. Today I drove past a cornfield and a horse pasture and two big patches of overgrown tree nursery.

Ahhhhhhh, that's good for the soul!

In Common with the Atheists

On the way to church yesterday, I heard a brief portion of a religion show on NPR. The topic was "Exploring a New Humanism" where atheism is extolled not as anti-Christianity or anti-religion, but as a positive thing in its own right.

Although I completely disagreed with much of what Chaplain Epstein said, there were things we have in common. For instance, he says that people can't say they believe in "God" without defining who that god is. Yup! He said that most people in America who think they believe in "God" actually believe in goodness and morality and being nice. Yup!

He said that people (that is, atheists) don't need a "God" to be the cosmic policeman, punishing sin. Nor do they need a "God" to be the ultimate one dishing out the rewards to those who are good. Unfortunately, I think he's right that most people see God as either 1) the guy who's going to reward their good, or 2) the guy who's out to spoil their fun so they better behave themselves. Epstein didn't seem to have much use for that kind of god; I don't either.

It struck me as odd how, on a Sunday morning, I was finding so much to agree with as I listened to an atheist espouse his humanistic beliefs.

Absolution

A grieved heart pours out her struggle with sin and pain.

The typical Christian response: Try harder to be good. God will help you.

A better response, more typical among Lutherans than the previous line: Jesus forgives you your sin. Go and sin no more.

A very good response: I forgive you all your sin in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.

The sweetest response: Jesus says, "I know your sin and your rebellion. That's why I spread out my arms on the cross for you. Your sin is why I came and suffered to save you, because I wanted to make you my own. I chose you. I baptized you. I joined you to Myself. I will hang onto you until I bring you to My heaven."

Pondering Time

Sometimes there's so much to do that there's no time to THINK.

But sometimes thinking is important. Sometimes a person has to figure out how she's going to tackle the task of homeschooling her children, and what methods and books and schedules and fieldtrips might serve the family best. Sometimes a person has to figure out what meals she's going to make, and where she's going to focus her nutrition-efforts and where she will make the bulk of her grocery purchases. Sometimes a person has to figure out where she's going to unpack all those moving boxes, and which items should go in which rooms and on what shelves.

But thinking takes time. We can't instantaneously figure those things out.

But when there's so much much much to DO, it's very hard to slow down and allow oneself the time to just "waste" in thinking and figuring out how next to proceed.

Roaming Cats

Cats go outside. It's what they do. City cats roam the neighborhood. Country cats roam the fields. Cats do not stay contained in a yard like dogs do. And they have NO desire to please their masters by staying put.

Earlier this week, a neighbor came over to introduce herself. She mentioned that we might want to keep our cats indoors because there are coyotes here.

Today Rosie disappeared. Eventually a neighbor came over. She had been in the vicinity of his bird feeder, so he took her inside. When he saw the kids outdoors with the basketball, he asked them if she belonged to us. He mentioned that we might want to keep our cats indoors because there are diseased cats around who will likely cause our cats to catch said diseases. Also, she was hanging around his bird feeder.

I know there are bird-watchers who detest cats and want every feline on a leash. I know my cats are going to be utterly miserable if they have to stay indoors forever. I know there is no way to teach a cat to stay in its own yard. I know I don't want to start off on a bad foot with the neighbors. So now what?

Pegboard

I adore pegboard. I love pegboard. I love the neatness. I'm crazy about how much space it saves. I love having tools and shop-items organized and easy-to-find instead of stuck in labeled boxes. I love the pegboard in my basement! (But I do need to go out and buy gobs and gobs more pegs!)

Recycling

Long ago, I used to recycle. Then the government made it mandatory. At that point, municipalities wouldn't let non-residents drop off at their recycling centers anymore. Our local government didn't provide pick-up for recycling, and the drop-off place was open 2 hours a month when they could get somebody there to man the place ... which wasn't consistent at all. So I pretty much gave up on recycling.

Besides, we don't make much garbage anyway. I don't buy cookies or pies in those plastic containers; I bake. I don't buy fast food to have cups that go in the garbage. I don't have those styrofoam trays that meat comes in; it comes wrapped in butcher paper instead. I like to compost during the non-winter months. We buy little "stuff" so there's not oodles of packaging that then fills up our garbage can.

So now we live in a subdivision where there's weekly trash pick-up (as opposed to monthly which we had in the previous house). And they have those little blue recycling crates, and we're supposed to separate the trash. Today's dinner was cowboy soup. This is one of my favorite insta-foods, but it comes in tin cans: 10 of them for the double-recipe I usually make. And I'm thinking, "Hey, that's a LOT of can-ends to cut off!" It's not just the 10 to open the cans, but 20 to cut out the ends so that the cans can be properly flattened as per the govt's instructions on How To Recycle. And I have a manual can-opener. I suppose I could buy an electric can opener to make it easier to comply with the recycling instructions. But would THAT make sense? Using electricity so that we can recycle and save energy???

And then, after cutting off all those blasted tin-can ends, I had to wash them. Again, where's the sense in this??? I waste water to wash a can, all for the sake of putting it in the garbage. Those tin cans rust and decompose pretty quickly anyway. I'm probably using more energy to recycle the can my kidney beans came in than the [ta da!] recycling conserves.

Green people need to learn to look at the big picture.

Psalm 118:16

The right hand of the Lord does valiantly.
The right hand of the Lord is exalted.
The right hand of the Lord does valiantly.

Interesting how that's said three times in a row. Kinda like earlier in the psalm it says three times in a row, Let [someone] now say, "His mercy endures forever."

Usually "is exalted" can be translated just as validly by "lifted up." Interesting how the middle one of the triplet happens to be "lifted up."

As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of Man be lifted up.

Cat Food

When kitty does not have acres in which to hunt gophers, the lady of the house must purchase vaster quantities of kibble. Poor kitty, she's trying to do her job, but we seem to have taken most of her job away from her. Yet she is rather content to take more naps, sun herself more, and go on safari for whatever few snacks she can capture.

Issues, Etc (again)

Mollie's article is in the Wall Street Journal today.

Tongue

Last time I cooked beef tongue, I put it in the crockpot with barbecue sauce. It tasted fine, but it was way too tender. Almost like a custard or pudding.

Today's attempt turned out better. I cooked the tongue, covered, in a small amount of water for about 30 minutes. This water was disposed of. Then I skinned the meat and sliced it. It was then simmered for about 45-60 minutes in more water, with some onion slices, salt, pepper, garlic, red wine, and Emeril's Essence.

I think we were all prepped for a plate of edible beef, knowing that we would have cherry-filled and streusel-topped coffee cake to reward ourselves for managing to eat the tongue. But the tongue turned out GREAT. Gotta remember that for next year's tongue.

Recently

Maggie got a gmail account and has been chatting chatting chatting with everybody she can get a hold of. If she gets a hold of you and won't hush and won't take a hint that you have other responsibilities, please be "rude" and tell her you have to go. But if you don't mind chatting, I suppose the writing-time does her no harm!

The wonderful guy at the local Ace Hardware matched my kitchen paint for me with his wonderful little machine. It's such a good match that I'm going to get by with painting just a 10' stretch of wall. The spattered cupboard insides are done, and all the contents of that huge cupboard tucked away again -- instead of congregating on the meal table and the kitchen counters and various locations of the kitchen floor. The cubby for the refrigerator is also painted, so the fridge is no longer sitting in the middle of the room either.

Got drivers licenses changed.
Registered to vote.
Rachel got a job.
Bought Andrew jeans so that he can go out in public now without exposing his naked little knees.
Skipped church last night as we didn't get home from errands until a few minutes before service started.

Watched Enchanted on Monday. It was superb; it even made me laugh a couple of times. And with how things went on Sunday and Monday, that's saying a whole lot!

Wednesday is dollar-day at the laundromat, so I took all the sheets and washed them yesterday. The weather cooperated so I could dry them on the line. Normally I can only wash 2-4 loads a day, so that I don't end up with a back-up of wet clothes awaiting their turn in the dryer. (Oh, we will luv luv luv it when the new septic is installed and we can return to using water less frugally.)

Got nothing accomplished today but mailing some packages, getting an oil change, and preparing a birthday dinner. Thankfully, my day wasn't spent wielding a snow shovel as the forecasters had threatened.

Iraq

Melody has some excellent observations today on the war, the statistics we're hearing about the war, the effectiveness of our soldiers, and what we hear from the media. Highly recommended reading, and it's not too long either.

Wanted?

With these words, Pr Asburry closed a wise blogpost on the topic of Issues Etc's cancellation:
If I were in the shoes of either Pr. Wilken or Mr. Schwarz, I'm sure that I wouldn't want to return to a place of employment that made it so abundantly clear that I was less wanted than window dressing.

Gary's been working an average of 11-12 hours a day, 7 days a week, for eight weeks now. Well, that's not entirely true: he did have a couple of hours off for the legal transactions to buy the house. It is not good for the body nor for the soul (nor for the family) for there to be no day to rest or day to help with family matters.

Someone called Sunday morning after the sunrise service and eagerly asked who was preaching for the services on Easter. When told, her response was a disappointed, "Oh, I thought he was gone."

"Less wanted than window dressing," eh?

Jesus wasn't wanted either. But nevertheless He came and ministered and suffered and forgave our rejection of His loving service. Thing is, we are not capable of measuring up to "what would Jesus do."

Corks

There is a reason wine bottles are topped with corks instead of screw-on lids. If the wine was not fully fermented prior to bottling, it is possible for a tiny bit of fermentation to continue after bottling. Problem is, fermentation puts off carbon dioxide, and that gas needs to go somewhere. If the bottle is topped by a cork, the cork can blow and the wine can spill out. If the bottle is not topped by a cork, the only thing left is for the glass bottle to explode.

Yesterday was awful. It took me until after 10:30 this morning to manage to force myself out of bed to face another day. I made it all the way to the couch to sit down with Maggie and watch a Schlessinger video about life in pioneer days. At the end of the video came a loud crash from the kitchen and the sound of glass breaking. Assuming the cat had naughtily jumped on the counter and knocked down about $30 worth of oversized (and hard-to-find) glass jars that were drying and hadn't yet been put away, we ran to see what was up.

It would've been better if the cat had broken the jars.

We had received a gift of homemade black raspberry wine. It exploded. It had a cork. I don't know why the cork didn't blow out and why the glass gave way instead. That whole cupboard was full of broken glass, and sticky ant-enticing wine was sprinkled and poured over everything. With three of us working, it took an hour to clean up the glass and spills.

However, black raspberry juice stains. The white kitchen walls are stained with the spray of the wine. The only paint-can downstairs is for the bathroom. I don't know how I'm going to match the kitchen paint. Given the nature of the house, I'm not going to be able to paint the stained walls, but will have to do the whole kitchen, the hallway, and one wall of the living room. I think I can get by with ignoring the stairwell to the basement which really should be done to match the kitchen, but wouldn't absolutely have to be.

I can't believe this. When I can't even keep up with the basic necessities of life (food and laundry), I get to do all the work associated with moving, and now, while the to-do list daily grows longer and never shorter, I need to paint several rooms too.

Sabbath

The Pharisees went to Pilate, asking that the legs of the criminals might be broken so that their bodies would not remain on the cross on the Sabbath ...

for that Sabbath was a high day.

No foolin'.
The highest Sabbath-rest in all of time.

Garnish

I don't do pretty. I do practical. Do what needs to be done, and do it as efficiently as possible so as to get to the next thing that's demanding my attention ... because after all, there's never enough time. I'm not happy with the fact that I'm that way and would like to remedy it, but it seems (oddly enough! - LOL) that there isn't time for that.

Yesterday I made fruit smoothies for lunch. Cantaloupe and strawberries and bananas with orange juice. (All of those, except the bananas, were on sale 2-for-1 and so that brought them down to normal Woodman's prices, so I was willing to buy them at my local grocery store.) Andrew looked at those humongous strawberries and decided to snatch one before it went into the Cuisenart to use as garnish on the edge of the smoothie glasses. A little touch. It took him all of 10-15 seconds to do it. But what was the response? Every single person in the house gave a little gasp and an "oooooooh" when handed that pretty glass with the little strawberry-slice garnish.

Maybe I should read Hidden Art again, and slow down, and take the book to heart.

John 18:4

Then Judas, having received a detachment of troops, and officers from the chief priests and Pharisees, came there with lanterns, torches, and weapons. Jesus therefore, knowing all things that would come upon Him, went forward and said to them, "Whom are you seeking?"

He knew all that would come upon Him for the rest of the evening and the next day. And yet He did not shy away from the soldiers but approached them. As Jesus told the Pharisees earlier (Jn 10), "I lay down my life that I may take it again. No one takes it from Me, but I lay it down of Myself. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it again."

A Lamb goes uncomplaining forth,
the guilt of all men bearing,
and laden with the sins of earth,
none else the burden sharing.

Reproaches

Thus says the Lord:
What have I done to you, o My people,
and wherein have I offended you?
Answer Me.

And then He goes on to say how He has blessed us and we have spit in His face, how He has been abundantly good to us and we have despised Him. He demands, "Answer Me."

And what is the answer?

"Don't leave us!
Have mercy!
The Lamb of God subjected Himself to scorn and bore all our sin.
Have mercy!"

A Wonder

The Shepherd dies for sheep who love to wander.

The Master pays the debt His servants owe Him (servants who refuse to know Him).

What wondrous love is this that caused the Lord of bliss to bear the dreadful curse for my soul.

How wonderful and beyond all telling is Your mercy to us, o God, that to redeem a slave, You gave Your Son.

10" and Counting

It's been snowing for 11 hours and it's supposed to keep up (at this rate) for another 6 hours. And then lighter snowfall through the night. This is the second-worst storm of the winter. But barring that snowfall in early February, this is the worst snowstorm in years and years. And just think -- two big snowstorms ago (and several little snowfalls ago) we'd already broken the record for amount of snow in one year.

Below we have pictures of Yeti, coming in from shoveling, dripping dripping dripping wet snow.

Proofs

Tis the long-expected Prophet,
David's Son yet David's Lord.
Proofs I see sufficient of it:
Tis the true and faithful Word.

The lame walk.
The deaf hear.
The blind receive their sight.
The poor have the good news of forgiveness preached to them.

Proofs.

And if that were not enough proof, He was despised and rejected. He was mocked and spit upon. He was tormented and brutalized. He was even forsaken by the Father.

Proofs.

Snow

So the day is going to be spent shoveling, going to Tenebrae, shoveling, going to Mass, shoveling. Good Friday is a day of fasting. Today there's going to be no time to prepare food because the day will be spent only in prayer and wielding snow shovels. And yet, moving this much snow -- and HEAVY snow -- is going to leave us in need of calories!

Ash Wednesday services were canceled. I wonder if Triune will cancel Good Friday too. There weren't many people at Tenebrae this morning. On the radio on the way home from church, I heard Archbishop Dolan report that all services in the diocese would be held regardless of weather because, after all, it IS Good Friday. Hooray for the Archbishop!

Theory about "Issues Etc"

In Bible class today, Pastor wondered how the synod "for business reasons" could cancel the one show which actually brought IN money for our radio station. My husband has a theory about that, and it involves the huge amount of money that could be obtained by sending KFUO into the tank and thus "needing" to sell it off. Issues Etc is an impediment to the notion that KFUO is a complete waste of money. Read more at Gary's blog.

Unpacking Books

The boys worked on unpacking books last week, mostly so as to get rid of all those boxes piled in the middle of the library (aka dining room). Things are fairly well organized, seeing as how we boxed books by subject matter. But the library still needs straightening. So yesterday I was putzing with rearranging shelves a bit.

And it hit me like it hadn't hit me before.

The picture books, the Richard Scarry, the Dr Seuss, and the board books were up too high. A 3-yr-old couldn't reach them. I moved them to shelves closer to the floor. All those books I love! The Little House and Katie and the Smallest Bear and Harold and the Purple Crayon and Time for Bed, Sleepy-heads and Good-night, Moon! And I'll have someone to read them to. Someone to grab books and toys off the shelf, and come crawl into my lap, and say, "Read, Grandma." Not just a theoretical person who will come along someday in the future. But a real person, a person God already made, a person whose sex and hair color and body build is already known to our Father, a person who will be here sooner than later.

Putting books onto bookshelves is not supposed to be all mushy and misty-eyed like it turned out to be.

Issues, Etc

In case there's anyone who hasn't heard yet, the massively popular radio program Issues, Etc has been canceled. Signatures to protest this action are being gathered in a petition.

Matthew 27:51

Then, behold, the veil of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom; and the earth quaked, and the rocks were split,...

When the Rock of our salvation died and His side was split (John 19:34) then even the created rocks were split too.

Black Bean Pancakes

I had a gallon-size can of black beans (thank you, Karin!) and part of it remained from the recipe I made a few days ago. A while back, Philip had had some black-bean patties that sounded good. I web-surfed for a recipe and finally got around to making it tonight. It was NOT what I wanted -- it was more pancakey and less beany. But it was good, especially topped with a hefty amount of salsa. I have requests for repeats from nearly everyone in the house, and that's a good sign! But next time I'll probably toss in some garlic and cumin with the flour before adding the wet ingredients.



Corn and Black Bean Pancakes

Whisk to combine:
1 cup flour (I used 1/3 ww and 2/3 white)
1 teaspoon baking powder
3/4 teaspoon salt
3/4 teaspoon pepper
2 eggs
1/4 cup melted butter
3/4 cup milk

Stir in:
3/4 cup fresh corn (I thawed some frozen corn)
3/4 cup well-drained black beans

Fry pancakes.
Serve with salsa.

Gas Cap

I screwed up. A couple of months ago I dropped the gas cap when I was filling the tank. A tiny little ring-shaped liner fell out of the middle of the inside of the gas cap. When I looked in the owners manual and online, it said that this could cause a problem. But it didn't. Things were fine.

Then a few days ago the "check engine" light came on. Turned out today that it wasn't a real problem (whew!!!!) but that the loss of that little ring meant the gas cap was not sealed tightly enough. The new gas cap cost $15. The diagnostic procedure, however, cost $90. Thank heavens for the honest mechanic who didn't exploit my stupid mistake.

If I'd known, I could've solved this problem before it started. Hopefully somebody else will be prevented from a similar screw-up.

Little Things

Y'know how it looks like a house goes up SO fast when they're first building it, and it's a matter of getting the studs and drywall and roof done? But it goes so slooow when it comes down to the light switches and the wallpaper and the grout?

It seems like the moving-in went pretty fast for the first couple of days. Couches and beds and dishes and those easy decisions about where things belong. But now it's a matter of sorting through all those little things: papers that have been piling up on a stack for the last 3 years, or the doobers in a junk drawer, or the camera that I can't remember whether it's broken or just has a bad battery. I've spent the whole day on just my bedroom, and my efforts hardly show! But things will be better organized, especially for the new [smaller] space, and a lot of doobers have hit the trashcan, and that's a good thing.

Where's Your Mind Been?

The "how to" of the day on my google home page was "How to Read Palms." Hey, that sounded really cool. I was all ready to click on it and see what was written about reading the psalms, praying the psalms, singing the psalms, etc.

Oops. Then I noticed it said palms, not psalms.

So what would it say about Palm Sunday?

Oooops again. Before my finger hit the mouse to read about palms, I finally figured out that the "how to" was going to be about the crinkle-lines in the palms of somebody's hand. Well, gosh, who cares about that?!???!?

(I think I've been reading too quickly here....)

A Pietist?

An announcement was made after church yesterday (aka Palm Sunday). The youth group will meet Friday evening at 7:15 to go to the skating rink for the evening.

Now, this does not conflict with church, which is at 1:00 in the afternoon.

Nevertheless, I can't imagine planning an outing like that for Good Friday. I don't know why it bothers me so much. After my infant god-daughter's funeral, I took her siblings to the playground to burn off some energy and play with friends while her parents visited with all the out-of-town company. That didn't seem inappropriate. I don't think it's inappropriate to have potlucks after church services, or Easter egg hunts for the kids. I don't expect my kids to sit around and be somber all day on Good Friday. But somehow, the idea of a youth group outing on the evening of Good Friday just seems wrong. This is where I always question whether I'm being reasonable or too much the pietist.

In Town

I love the picture book The Little House by Virginia Lee Burton. It's a story about a little house in the country, surrounded by daisies, watching the sun rise and set and the seasons pass. The little house wondered what the far-off city was like. But as the city grew, and the little house first became part of a village, then part of a small city, then a big city, then in the midst of a huge city, the little house decided it missed the country and the daisies and the sunsets and the birds.

Down at the old house yesterday for church, I heard and then saw many many V's of migrating geese heading north. Now, I'm not too fond of Canada geese, but they weren't coming to live here -- they were passing through -- and seeing them was still a happy harbinger of spring. Later I heard and then saw V's of sandhill cranes migrating too. That always thrills my heart! And I wonder how I'll do in town, not being able to see the horizon, not being able to measure time by which wildflowers are in season. I fear that I may become the little house who ended up longing for her rural life back.

And yet...
on Friday the car's "check engine" light came on. And the new mechanic is only 8 minutes away instead of 33. (That really adds up when you have to make two roundtrips for each repair!) And yesterday I injured my neck helping to carry furniture up from the basement at the old house, and it's only 6 minutes to the D.O. instead of 70. So I'm finding there are definite benefits to living in town. Now, to focus on the gains instead of the losses....

Raw Milk

Kids with vcfs have rotten teeth. Some even have dentures by their early 20s. I think every mom of a vcfs kid knows what it's like to be scolded by the dentist or hygienist for not taking good enough care of her kid's teeth. Even after having five kids with good healthy teeth, it's like suddenly the dentist thought I was giving kid#6 a baby bottle full of Pepsi all day, and never brushing her teeth. Maggie would normally have 2 or 3 cavities per semi-annual visit, sometimes 4, and if we were lucky "only 1."

We began drinking raw milk a year and a half ago. Not only has that helped with allergies, but Maggie has not had ANY cavities in the last three visits to the dentist! But we've moved. Where will I find raw milk conveniently available? Can't exactly keep goats or a jersey in the back yard of a subdivision....

Side of Beef

When I buy beef from a local farmer, I pay a certain amount for the hanging weight, and a certain amount to the butcher for processing. I have wondered in the past how that cost ends up comparing to the price I see at the grocery store or in the butcher's case.

Today I picked up half a cow from a butcher I haven't patronized before. The meat was neatly packed in flat boxes, making it easy to put in the car and into the freezer. So I weighed it, just to find out how much of the cow's hanging weight actually makes it into the freezer. It ended up to be about 2/3. With the butcher's fee, the price per pound ended up about twice as much as I pay the farmer for hanging weight. That's helpful to know when I compare to grocery-store prices, and makes the grocery-store prices look less shocking.

Remission

The new hymnal has changed some references that were in TLH. "Remission of sins" is a phrase that we are no longer very fond of: "forgiveness of sins" is the preferred way to say it. The reason given was that "remission" is a word that people associate with cancer, a word that indicates the disease is gone, beaten back, but may return. We want to talk about forgiveness of sins so that we know the sins are defeated and fully paid for.

Okay, I see that point. I agree.

But isn't there a place for talking about remission of sins too?

In this life, we are weighed down by the Old Adam. The sinful nature continues with us until we assume room temperature. Sins do go into remission. They are beaten back. But sometimes they return. Sometimes they return overwhelmingly. Sometimes the doctor (the Seelsorger) must apply massive doses of medicine (the word and sacraments) to heal us again.

The word "remission" has fallen into disfavor because of the recognition that sin is not fully defeated. Maybe it's the distinction between justification and sanctification? We dare not think that keeping the sin in remission is something we do, something to which we contribute. But yet it seems very real that "remission" is a picture of how we struggle with the sinful nature until he is fully defeated in our death.

Boy, I think we need both words: forgiveness and remission.

Plundering the Egyptians

Recently I was conversing with an acquaintance who was explaining to me how God wants His Christians to have physical health and material wealth and every other bounty while we are yet here on earth.

Our story today is from Exodus 12. Prior to the Angel of Death passing over the land, the children of Israel went to their Egyptians neighbors and asked for gold, silver, and clothing. And God gave His children favor in the sight of the Egyptians. The Egyptians just handed over the wealth.

Why? So that God's people could be rich rich rich?

About 10 chapters later in the book, we find out why. Those riches would be brought to Moses so that the artisans who made the ark and the altar and the tapestries could build the tabernacle according to God's plans.

So in gratitude and faith, the people turned all that wealth back over to the Lord who had delivered them and given them the wealth. And what did God do with it? He appointed that tabernacle as the place where His people would receive the true wealth. In that place -- made of the gold and silver and cloth that they'd plundered from the Egyptians -- in that place God forgave their sins, He covered them with the blood of atonement, He heard their prayers, He put His name upon them, He gave them all the wealth of heaven instead of the measly wealth of earth.

Books

The bookshelves are up. The books are unpacked. There's still a lot of putting-in-order that will need to be done with the books. But at least we can now walk through the room that will be the library/dining room, and pass through that room to the laundry room and workshop.

The kitchen is covered with post-it notes on the cupboards and drawers so that we can spend a little less time hunting for things. "What's behind Door #1? Oh, maybe we'll try Door #3 instead."

Setting up some new bank accounts today took two hours. And here I originally thought it would be about 10 minutes. Oh well.

I think (???) I now know my new phone number AND new address and new email addresses.

Today's mail brought an awesome surprise. A bunch of homeschooling friends went together to purchase a house-warming gift of a gift-card to Home Depot. Won't that be helpful!! Wow, I keep getting blown away by how God provides for us just when I suspect He may have forgotten.

Dishes Fairy

With the dish-drainer still back at the old house, I've been having problems washing dishes. Then I discovered that I could use the dishwasher to stack wet clean dishes so as to let them dry. But today we did something wild and crazy. We put the dinner dishes in the dishwasher still dirty [gasp!] and then later put the supper dishes in there too. We put in the soap, closed the door, pushed the magic button, and headed to church for Lenten service. And when we came home....
the dishes fairy had come and made everything clean.
Pretty nifty!

One of Those Days

Started off at the laundromat, and the machine did NOT want to take my quarters. Good grief, when I can't even manage to operate a vending machine (how hard can it be to shove quarters into a slot???), the omens do not portend a good day.

I skipped the board meeting for the state homeschool organization. A lot of important things on the agenda today. But I just couldn't handle the trip in the midst of all the necessities of changing homes after 17 years.

Brought the clothes home from the laundromat, intending to throw them into the dryer. But it took THREE trips to the hardware store before it finally would work. I couldn't manage it, no matter how hard I tried, but Paul hooked up the exhaust vent, as well as changed the outlet.

Made a good dent in cleaning the basement. Pretty soon those cupboards downstairs will be clean enough so that we can begin unpacking the things that need to be stored in the basement. The boys put together three more sets of bookshelves today, so the books can be unpacked as soon as we get a few other tasks accomplished.

Also got a lot of hooks hung up on walls so that some stuff can get off the floors and counters. I love these hooks that don't mar the wall!

The cats have begun to explore outside. They don't go too far (yet) and they come back. But Maggie is stressed whenever the kitties are out gallavanting.

Paul got the baseboards varnished so that Gary can install them in the one bedroom tomorrow evening. He also varnished and attached legs to the legless table for the breakfast nook. Hey, tomorrow we'll no longer need to sit on the floor for all meals!

Worked on some more address changes. Made several phone calls. Andrew had unpacked my computer and set it up for me this afternoon. After phoning APT, I wanted to get online and invite homeschoolers to the annual Shakespeare outing in September. But there were password problems and other glitches with the ISP: it took over two hours (and great frustration on my part, and a whole lot of Gary's assistance, and a long time on the phone with the provider) before I could use the email. That seems to be fixed, but a few things still are not working right. Oy!

Anagrams

Oh, this is too fun! Jeff's blog directed us to a site that makes anagrams out of words. When I put in my name, I got nearly 5000 anagrams, including:
Beach Gals Shun
Chasubles Hang
Bagels Can Hush

Lent in 3-Year

My father-confessor's congregation began using the 3-year lectionary this past Advent. The congregation I'm a member of is on the historic 1-year series. It seemed to me in December that Advent had more of a "pre-Christmas" feel in the 3-year series, and more a call to repentance in the 1-year series. But my Stuckwischy friend disagreed with me, so I questioned my perspective.

During Lent I have again noticed a difference between the 3-year and 1-year series. The 3-year lectionary for Lent this year seems to have a lot about light. I've been feeling like I'm still in Epiphany. I love the readings. I love the sermons. I love the hymns. But it hadn't seemed very Lentish. Then today, the OT reading was Ezekiel 37. It was hard for me to pay attention because I kept thinking, "That's for Thomas Sunday" (also known as the first Sunday after Easter) and "Why are we reading Easter stories already?"

So here's the perspective of someone who's in the midst of Series A and the 1-year series at the same time:
Series A treats Lent more like a transition from Epiphany to Easter.
One-year series uses it more as a time of penitence.

Black Stove

Bread crumbs and spilled salt and cotton lint show up a whole lot more on a black stovetop than on a white stovetop.

Cats don't much appreciate being moved to a new home.

When a family is moving into a house, there are more things to fix, more projects to tackle, and more decisions to make than I dreamed possible.

With much help from friends, we have transferred the beds, the dressers, the piano, most of the appliances, and much of the cookware to the new house. But there's still a lot to be done at the old house. I wonder where the motivation to DO it will come from, when things are getting kinda nicely settled here? And when my body is sore and aching from 1) a fall on the ice last week, and then 2) all that physical labor of lifting and hauling?

Katie's News

Since Katie and Nathan have made all the personal phone calls and she is now announcing it on her blog, I guess it is okay for me to tell the joyful news too.

Maggie and I are going to be keeping an eye on Baby Center's fetal development website so that she can learn about the growth of the new family member. By Thanksgiving my first grandbaby should arrive.

Really Good Rice

Our standard and boring rice recipe is to cook the brown basmati in double the amount of water, throw in a little chicken Better-Than-Bouillon (or better yet, use real home-made stock), some onion and celery and garlic and grated carrot, spiced with salt, pepper, and parsley. If we're feeling like Wisconsinny cheeseheads, we will put in several slices of American cheese after the rice is done cooking, let it melt, stir, and have a dish quite like some of the expensive boxed-rice side-dishes sold in the grocery store (ahhh, but ours is made of real ingredients).

I didn't have American cheese. Or cheddar. (Trying to deplete the grocery stash prior to moving day, doncha know.) So I thought I'd try adding feta. For 2 cups of rice, 1 onion, 2 ribs of celery, and no carrots (still tryin' to run down those grocery supplies), I added about 1/3 cup of feta.

Oh. My. Goodness.

It was unbelievable. Andrew declared it was the best rice he'd ever eaten in his life. Then he found out there was feta in it. Andrew does not like feta. But he pulled together his good sense and his well-favored taste buds, and decided he wanted to eat this again!

The Work of Moving

We have the usual: cleaning and packing and making decisions. What caught me off-guard was the amount of cleaning. I thought the new house looked well taken care of and clean. But the previous owners smoked, and the bucketfuls of wash-water come out a whole lot dirtier than anticipated. So the cleaning is taking longer than expected. We also have a lot of laundry to do this week. Not only are there piles of cleaning cloths, but there's also loads and loads of blankets and jackets and other non-weekly (not even monthly) laundry to be freshened. The septic system at the new house needs to be replaced, so it's important that we not overload it and cause it to fail. That means a laundromat will become a major feature in my life for the next 7-12 weeks. That means I want to get all the wash done NOW, while I still can run a machine without putting quarters into it.

It was nice to have some extra hands come and help with the cleaning today. Of course, there has to be visiting amidst the scrubbing. Mouths can work at the same time as hands. Thank you, Laura and Mary and Rachel!

Otoscope

Andrew had another ear infection early this year. At that point, I wanted to write this post but didn't get around to it. A friend took her son to the doctor today to check for an ear infection. When she said, "If only I had an otoscope, I could look at his ears myself," I decided I really wanted to get this posted publicly.

Two of my children have problems with outer ear infections due to wax build-up (due to oddly shaped ear canals). After a couple of ER visits, I learned how to deal with the wax problem the way the doctors do. But one of the important tools is the otoscope: you have know when to keep flushing the ear and when it's clean enough to stop, and looking through an otoscope tells you what you need to know.

So I investigated otoscopes. The Dr Mom otoscope is the friend of any bright mother. When the child goes to the doctor with an ear infection, ask to see through the doctor's otoscope. Begin to learn what an ear infection looks like. (The Dr Mom website also gives some illustrations.) The otoscope can tell you when a child's ears are clear as can be. It can tell you when there's an outer ear infection. It can show when the ear drums are getting stuffy with allergies. It can show when there's infection that might spur you to make an appointment with the doctor posthaste. These things are, like, 25 bucks, and that includes shipping. If you can avoid even one co-pay for the doctor, you've paid for the otoscope. Mine is about five years old and still works just great. This is something I wish I'd known about much earlier in my mommy-days. It saves time and it saves money, and sometimes it allows a sick child stay home in comfort instead of sitting in a doctor's office getting exposed to more germs "just in case" he might need the amoxicillin.

Better Late than Early

Although it's the name of an education book (the philosophy of which I quite agree with!), that's not what I'm writing about here.

When you have an appointment with the cable guy at your new house, it would be better if he showed up late rather than early. We have been waiting for installation of the phone and internet at the new house. I made the appointment for the phone hook-up. A few days later I added the order for the internet. Both times the appointment was confirmed for 1:00-3:00. We arrived at the new house at 11:30, just to make sure. And he had already arrived, found us not there, and left.

Now we have to wait until Thursday before they can come back. I've heard this company has lousy customer service, and they can get by with it because they're the only cable-game in town. But still, it would be better if they were late rather than early. Then I would've been frustrated by the long wait, but at least I wouldn't have had to wait five days.

It makes me disgusted with myself how these little glitches can totally turn me into a basket case these days.

House

We gave them a whole bunch o' money. We signed the contract to give them a whole bunch more money. They gave us the keys. And the house is now ours. Well, ours and the bank's. Moving day is scheduled for next Saturday, assuming the weather doesn't thwart our plans. It's a very very very nice house. (Hey, the rest of the song fits too: with two cats [soon to be] in the yard. Life used to be so hard. Let's hope the "now everything is easy" comes to pass too.)

Too Cold to Stick

We've spent the last few days boxing up books at a fast-n-furious rate. And toys. And books. And games. And more books. When I went downstairs today to fill some more boxes, I found tape coming loose from some of the boxes. This is name-brand, "high quality" packaging tape. And it's so cold in the basement that it's not sticking well. Yikes! I don't want bottoms falling out of book boxes. But what can you do to make tape stick in the cold??? I'm inclined to turn up the heat, but it's been cold in the basement the last two years regardless of how warm it is upstairs. (And that's weird, because for many a year, it seemed that the basement was warmer in winter and cooler in summer, which fits better with what science says.)

Baking

Thanks to recommendations from several homeschooling friends, we found a place to order appliance parts online with advice on installing them. Gary took apart the stove on Saturday so that we made sure we were ordering the correct part. I had it next-day-aired, so it arrived today. Paul installed it this morning and put the stove back together. And now we have a fully operative oven, at less than half the price we were quoted by our favorite local repairman.

We ate cornbread for lunch.
We'll eat pizza for supper.
I like having appliances that work!

I am impressed with my manly guys who can fix things for me!

Coping

My friend Elephant's Child has been writing recently about her experiences fleeing leaving Africa and coming back to live in the States. In one of her posts this week on the topic, she stated: Gradually it dawned on us that we hadn't even truly been aware of the intensity of strain we'd been under until now, now that it was gone. Still, it was almost harder now. Tears came at strange times.

It reminded me of a much smaller experience many moms have had. One of the kids is injured. Mom does all the right things: pressure on the bleeding cut, ice-pack to reduce swelling, getting the kid to ER, telling the story repeatedly to nurses and doctors, comforting the frightened child, going home with the instructions to watch for signs of infection. Mom does what needs doing. She holds up. She manages to do what needs to be done for those who depend on her.

And then, the next day, she accidentally breaks a glass, or one of the kids spills a quart of milk, and Mom loses it. She falls to pieces. Somebody tries to comfort her that it's just a little accident, that it's easily mended, that it's gonna be okay. And that only makes it worse, because she knows it just a little accident and that she shouldn't be crying or losing her temper or whatever. But it's not the broken glass or spilled milk, it's the incident of the previous day that's getting to her.

I suppose it's good to be able to hold up during the crisis, even if a person falls apart later. But it's pretty unexplainable when it appears that such little difficulties can take somebody down when they've managed to make it through so many bigger problems.

Dry Roads

Gary has been working for four weeks. Last night, during his commute home, was the first time I wasn't worried about the drive. Such a nice relief!

Up until yesterday I think I'd jogged three times in 2008. Between weather, being out of town, weather, illness, weather, busyness with appointments due to the upcoming move, and a little bad weather [What? Like, you see a theme here???] it's been nearly impossible to get my daily sunbath and exercise. But yesterday I forced myself, and today I'm going out there again. Maybe it will become a habit again. I have to jog on the county highway now; the parking lot (where I usually jog in circles) is still an ice rink, and the town roads aren't exactly cleared either. But -- wooohooo! -- a weekend of above-freezing temperatures is predicted!

Mixed Feelings

While I was in town this afternoon, somebody came and put up a sign at church. There's a fund-raising breakfast at the fire department this Sunday morning.

Now, on the one hand, people could come to church, see the sign, and go to the Fire & Rescue fund-raiser after church instead of going to one of the restaurant buffets. And yet, it seems wrong somehow that there's a sign at the church entrance, advertising something else to do on Sunday morning, somewhere else to be.

It reminds me of the annual AAL baseball outings, always on a Sunday morning, always gathering to get on the bus to head off to the big city for the major league game at the same time Service is scheduled to start. It boggles the mind that we're asked to advertise "church activities" that conflict with the Divine Service.

At least this Sunday's benefit is not as bad as when the local Methodist church runs their fund-raisers on Sunday mornings. It always shocks me to hear that they're serving breakfast on Palm Sunday. It's Holy Week! And these church-folks can't find anything better to do at 9:00 on Palm Sunday morning than to flip pancakes? At least the benefit for the Fire Dept is a secular event that is being run (presumably) by non-Christians, and the Christians are gobbling the yummies before or after church.

Unfair Tax Cuts

I'm tempted to cut-n-paste the whole article and put it here, because I know most people don't click on links in blog-posts. But this one you need to read. It's not long. It's not heavy to ponder -- it's just a little story about some guys in a bar. And it illustrates those unfair tax cuts to the rich guys. Go read the little story at Scott's blog.

John 18:8-9

The scene is the Garden of Gethsemane on the night of Jesus' betrayal. The big crowd of soldiers have come out to arrest Him.
Jesus answered, "I have told you that I AM. Therefore if you seek Me, let these go their way," that the saying might be fulfilled which He spoke, "Of those whom You gave Me I lost none."

In the last year, I have frequently been confused by "that the saying might be fulfilled." Today in Bible class we ran across another one. I couldn't figure out WHY the soldiers' letting the disciples go would have anything to do with Jesus' not losing them. I mean, in the High Priestly Prayer when Jesus said that God would allow none of the disciples to be lost (except Judas), He was talking about their faith. But when Jesus told the soldiers to let the disciples go free, that was a temporal matter, a matter of whether or not the disciples were getting the handcuffs. I couldn't figure out why the lack of the disciples' arrest would fulfill the saying.

After I had explained my question to Pastor several different ways, he suddenly understood what I was asking and had an answer. If the disciples had NOT been let go by the soldiers, if they had been dragged along with Jesus and put on trial, if they had been beaten, they could not have borne it. They would have been destroyed. They could not have endured it. They would have been lost. But Jesus could not allow them to be lost, so He could not allow them to be tested beyond what they were able. So they were let go ...

that the saying might be fulfilled.

American Idol

Why do so many contestants say they're doing this "for my kid"? Does it really benefit the kid for Mom or Dad to go to Hollywood, leave munchkins with extended family, and not see the son or daughter?

Obama's Ad

In anticipation of yesterday's primary, we were treated repeatedly to one of Barak Obama's ads on tv. One of the class-warfare statements he threw out there in the ad was that CEO's make more in 10 minutes than your average Joe makes in a whole year.

Being mathematically inclined, my instant reaction was "Good grief! That is so outlandish. If anybody did the math, this would be shown to be a completely goofy claim."

Well, yesterday and today, two of my favorite talk-radio guys (Mark and Charlie) did the math. (If you're interested, it pans out to a CEO earning somewhere between 1/4 and 1/2 billion dollars per year.) Callers wondered why Obama didn't complain about movie stars or sports heroes who earn more in 10 minutes than the average worker earns in a year.

But the funny one was the comment:
"Hi, I'm Barak Obama. And I spent more on this 30-second commercial to convince you to vote for me than you earn in a year."

Pretty Peppers

Gumbo for dinner today.

I don't know what's up with pepper prices, but the red peppers were a dime cheaper than the green this week, and the yellow peppers were only a dime higher than the green. (For a few of you twenty-somethings who pay no heed to pepper prices, the ripe ones are usually 50-100% more than green.)

I thought the skillet full of veggies was SO pretty. Every time I walked over to the stove to stir them, I was floored by the colors of the onion, celery, green peppers, and red pepper. Little things like this remind me of Edith Schaeffer's Hidden Art.

Rash

For several years I've been struggling with a rash on a few fingers that has been slowly getting worse, to the point of being chapped and bleeding. I tried wearing rubber gloves instead of putting my hands in the dishwater, but eventually that wasn't doing enough and the latex itself proved to be an irritant. I tried lotions, and it didn't help much. I even tried using Melaleuca dish soap. Although it helped, it didn't help enough. I tried making my own lye soap for showering, and that helped too, even though the slow downward slide of itchiness and scabs continued.

This December I started using Burt's Bees Thoroughly Therapeutic Hand Creme. In January Jane gave me some Melaleuca Renew skin therapy lotion. (Somebody here had come home from the hospital once with a small tube of Renew, and it was awesome stuff!) Those lotions have helped a lot.

But last month I found something that has made the biggest difference -- using a shampoo with no lauryl or laureth sulfates. That organic shampoo cost a fortune at the health food store, but it's the main thing that has my hands on the road to healing!

I'm hoping that -- like Katie -- I'll also see some significant improvement once I have a dishwasher. :-)

Gambling

I hate gambling. I hate it. I hate trying to decide when is the time "to hold up, when to fold up, when to walk away, when to run." I don't like risk, even with the stock market or IRA money-market funds.

When we started looking for a house, the interest rates were low -- 5.625%. By the time we found the house, made the offer, and filled out the formal loan applications, interest rates had gone up to 6.125%. The mortgage officer (and we) figured the rate would surely come down a bit again. But the next day the rates went to 6.25%. The next business day (today) they're up another 1/8. Each 0.125% means another $18/month on the mortgage. So we have to decide when to lock in the rates: now before they go higher? Or if we lock in today's rates, will they just go down tomorrow and we'll kick ourselves for not waiting another day or two?

I HATE gambling!

But we have fuel...

I realize it's cold outside, but c'mon, when the thermostat is set at 68, it seems like it should be a little warmer than 62 in the warmest part of the house.

I went to drop off the van today for an alignment after the accident, then voted. Came home to start dinner and a couple of batches of bread. Then I discovered the oven doesn't work. It's not a fuel shortage: the stove and broiler work. This pushed back dinner several hours. The repairman tells me it'll be $150 to fix it. So do we fix a stove? If we don't, we can't very well try to sell it. While the boys and I were trying to figure out some do-it-yourself information on the internet, I managed to burn the carrots for the dinner that was finally almost ready in the late afternoon. Shoot.

Boxes

Maggie is DYIN' to start packing things into boxes. Multiple times a day, "Can we start packing now?" Paul brought home flattened boxes from work early last week. I didn't get packing tape to build boxes until Saturday. So then Maggie was rarin' to go. But yesterday we had flooding in the basement. I wasn't about to start taking things off shelves (that is, up off the floor) and start putting them into boxes which would then rest on a wet floor.

So now the floor in the basement is dry. (Everything outdoors is too frozen to have running water today.) And now I'm being pressed again to start the packing. And here, I have these silly notions about taking care of mortgage applications and home-owner's insurance and arranging telephone service. We don't seem to see eye-to-eye on what's the priority in this moving venture.

Clean Stove Top

Visiting Laura last week, we got to talking about her new electric stove and the pros and cons of different stove tops. Hers is electric, I currently have propane gas, and next month I'll have natural gas.

As we were talking, I got to ranting about the salesmen who were giving me the pitch about sealed burners being so easy to clean. When I previously had sealed burners, it was the hardest-to-clean stove I ever worked with. Every time the potatoes boiled over, every time something spilled while I was cooking, it would burn on. No matter how much scrubbing, no matter how much chemical, no matter how much elbow grease, no matter how quickly you attacked the spill, the process of cooking the food caused the spill to bake onto the stove top. It drove me nuts.


The next time we needed a stove, I refused to consider anything with sealed burners. We ended up getting a much cheaper appliance. Apparently the unsealed burners are less desirable. The salesmen told me how much harder it is to clean the stove when the burners aren't sealed. Poppycock. The spillovers will spill down the hole, under the cook-top, onto the part of the stove where the burners are attached to the gas. As long as that part is nicely sealed, it's a breeze to wipe it up. Nothing there burns on! Of course, I may not clean underneath the stove-top as frequently as I should. It may get cleaned underneath only a couple of times a year (unless there's a gloriously messy spillover) but the stove-top stays nice, and the part where the food goes stays nice.

I think the stove in the new house has sealed burners. Bummers. But, hey, it's a black stove, so whatever burned-on messes I have won't glare as badly as they do on a white stove-top.

Age of Empires

I do not approve of video games. I do not approve of television. (Of course, my aversion to letting the kids watch tv is more of a testimony to how much I have been addicted to it. We tend to dislike most in others what are our own glaring weaknesses.)

Nevertheless, we have games that the kids play on the computer. We watch tv. I struggle all the time with "how much?" and "what kind?" and "Is this okay?" and whether I'm overly micro-managing those things.

When Maggie was first learning to read and spell, she really blossomed when we bought one of those Leapfrog games. Here she was, learning in a way that seemed to play on her strengths, and I was (in a way) not okay with it because it involved a computer.

The boys love playing Age of Empires. And Age of Kings. And Age of Mythology.

And do you know what those kids have had the audacity to do? LEARN SOMETHING from these video games! Can you believe that? When we've been doing our geography lessons and our vocabulary, they keep pointing out to me that the reason they know this or that factoid is because they learned it from Age of Kings.

Well, how d'ya like that? I don't approve of those games, and yet my children go and get something beneficial from them anyhow. Harrumph!

Friction Experiments

Kids do science experiments for their schoolwork that simulate no-friction or low-friction. Today the grown-ups get to play with concepts of no-friction.

At 7:00, the deacon at my daughter's church called to get her correct phone number. They're canceling church. It's not the roads so much as it is the parking lot. The pastor's and deacon's cars -- when stopped and parked -- were still sliding across the parking lot. So much for friction between the tires and the asphalt! The rain on top of our snow and the melting have made quite things quite slick. Combine that with the freezing that will be coming later in the day, and it's going to be bad this evening when Philip is due to come home from work.

There's over 2" of water out behind the van. It's the low spot of the driveway that passes in front of church, and the piles of snow & ice prevent the rainwater from going further downhill. I moved the van out of the deep puddles to the spot where Philip's car had been parked earlier, and I managed not to hit our car that was parked in the neighboring spots.

When Gary went over to church this morning, he only hit the ground (and the puddles) once. But that was when he was already aware of how slick it was, and he was walking shuffling with extreme caution.

The church parking lot isn't on toooo much of a slant, but there's a definite incline down to the parking lot from the road. Because of that (in addition to people being able to make it safely from their cars into the church building) the elders have chosen to notify people of the situation, which probably means our family will be the only ones at church today.

When I awoke early this morning, I decided to do the week's grocery shopping before church this morning, anticipating being snowed in later today and tomorrow. I guess I'll stay home and be creative about using up the groceries that are here and making do without potatoes and apples and flour. I don't want to do my own friction experiments with my vehicles.

Jealousy

One of the couples at church had a big party last night: combined birthdays and his retirement. I shared howdies with lots of people, but spent most of the time conversing with six nice nice couples. It was a really enjoyable time.

But one thing struck me yet again. What do I do with my time? A few people were chatting about skiing. Downhill or cross-country? Why one is better than the other. Then someone asked me, "Do you do cross-country?" No. "Oh, but you should. It's so beautiful. It's such good exercise. You'd love it." But WHEN?

After mulling that over for 12 hours, I whined at Gary about what I'm doing, and how I'm doing it wrong, how I must be wasting my time that I don't engage in hobbies and sports and those nice "family activities" that we should do with the kids. I recalled the jealousy I felt last summer when I'd be doing my paper route, and see all sorts of people out in their yards, grilling, drinking margueritas, socializing with their company. For the first time in four months, this week I got together with my friends for a few hours for the kids to play and the moms to talk.

I'd like to say that I'm busy homeschooling and spending all this quality time with my children, but the reality is that I don't spend as many hours on that as I ought. I wonder if I waste too much time on the computer, but it's usually done in 10-minute snatches while the bread is kneading or the meat is browning, so a lot of my computer time-wasting is slipped into small time-slots that would not be usable for a hobby or a sport.

Gary says that the things that gobble up my time are church and food. The friends who have more time for skiing and snowmobiling and baseball are (for the most part) friends who are willing to miss church on Sundays now and then, and who never come to midweek services or Bible class. As for food, I do spend hours daily on cooking from scratch. Gary reminds me that most of the people in America are willing to do take-out pizza, take-out Chinese, take-out Subways, and other fast food. As he talks to kids in his confirmation class, he finds that they don't often sit down for a family meal; food is just something to grab (from McDonalds or from the insta-food section of the grocery store) and eat "on the way" to wherever you're going.

So I guess my "hobbies" are making real dinners and going to church. Why am I unsatisfied with that, and want to be able to bowl and ski and sew and play music and all those other fun things?

Walworth Apartments

As long as I'm making recommendations for local businesses, there is a great apartment manager in Walworth. For those who are in need of an apartment to rent in Walworth, Fontana, or the surrounding areas, you really need to check out the complex on Allen Street.

It's a small complex, three buildings with 8 apartments each. I've been doing paper routes in Walworth for about a decade and have been very impressed by how this particular apartment manager takes care of the property and helps his tenants. The buildings are kept up well. The lawn is nicely cared for. The manager has been working his butt off keeping the parking lot and the sidewalks clear of snow this winter. The care he puts into his work and the pleasant way he interacts with the tenants really sets him apart. If I were to look for an apartment in Walworth, Village Commons would definitely be at the top of my list!

Auto Body Repairs

Most of you who read my blog aren't going to care about this, but I just gotta sing the praises of a local businessman, in case anybody in my area is web-surfing for a repairman.

Al's Auto Body and Arboretum is located south of Delavan, northwest of Walworth. It is conveniently located for people in Darien, Sharon, and Fontana too. Who wants to have the accident that puts you in need of a repairman? But when you do need someone to fix your car, you want somebody who is competent, reliable, and reputable.

After my accident last month, my insurance agent recommended Al Ritchey. Al has repaired his cars after mishaps, and Al has done work for many other clients of my insurance agent. Al can do the perfect repairs that many people want. But he's also wise about making less-than-perfect repairs if that's what the customer wants. For example, he didn't get new parts for my van, but pounded out the dents and repainted. This cost us only 35% of the estimated cost to repair the van "properly" and "good as new." I thought we were compromising on the van for the sake of cost, but when I picked up the van today, I was stunned by how great it looks and how well Al put it back together. He apologized that the back quarter of the van was more dented than he'd expected, so he was unable to get all the lines of the van doors to match up perfectly. (I would never have noticed the "flaws" had he not pointed them out.)

So for anybody in Walworth County who is looking for a person who does great auto-body work, I heartily suggest calling 262-275-2800.

Electric Bill

With Gary having a full-time secular job, the congregation is no longer paying for health insurance through Concordia Plans. With Gary having a full-time secular job, the elders have proposed (more generously than I had anticipated) to cut Gary's paycheck to just barely over half of last year's salary. This means that the church is paying only 1/3 of what they paid last year for their pastor. This means the church budget has been cut in half. HALF of their expenses have been eliminated.

Nevertheless, yesterday I got a phone call from the power company saying that the bill for the parsonage is past due. (Happily, it's not so far past due that there's any worry about the electricity being turned off in the next few days.)

Some of the folks at church are befuddled by what's going to happen now that the pastor has a full-time job. But from my perspective, seeing how much their expenses have decreased and how bills are still outstanding, I can't imagine what would've become of the congregation had their pastor NOT gotten a full-time job.

Happy Kitty

Late last spring, our cat Athena was getting to be so much cuddlier and schmoozier. She would occasionally jump on laps to be petted. She would let Andrew wear her as a hat or a neck-scarf. She was becoming so much more personable and part of the family instead of just Gopher-Killer-el-Supremo.

And then we committed the sin.
We got a kitten.
And we brought it into Athena's house.
An energetic and bouncy kitten, right into Athena's abode.

Athena was NOT happy.

Eight months have passed. The kitten has become a little calmer. The kitten has come to know her place and defer to the elder cat. But mostly, Athena has reconciled herself to the reality that the little monster is here to stay and that we like her, stupid though she be. In the last few weeks, Athena has begun to jump on laps again. She allows us to pet her again. She is becoming personable again. She's stopped the hissing and growling. Sometimes she will even condescend to let the kitten sleep on the same bed or couch that she is using.

Yesterday the kitten was taken to the vet. She has proved herself to be utterly and completely hopeless as a hunter. She doesn't even much like going outside. So the claws must go. The declawing procedure was today, but due to car/van unavailability, the kitten had to spend two nights in the clinic.

Athena is in heaven. Loads of attention. No kitten. And sunbeams shining through the window. (Hey, I agree with her about the sunbeams!)

Tomorrow the kitten comes home. In about three weeks, we disrupt Athena's life yet again by putting her in a car for over an hour (yikes!!) and moving her to a new house and new outdoor-territory (probably with significantly fewer bonbons gophers). I feel so sorry for my dear little huntress. She works so hard to keep us rodent-free. And this is how we treat her in return: one trauma after another.

Moving News

We're going to be moving. Instead of having Gary commute to work daily or live apart from the family, it seems better to us for the family to live together, near Gary's job, and commute back here on the weekend for church and confirmation class.

We found a house. Our offer has been accepted. The inspection showed the house to be in excellent condition, with many repairs having already been made within the last decade (windows, furnace, AC, water softener, roof, radon mitigation, electrical upgrades, and more). The sellers will be putting in a new septic system as soon as the weather allows. Closing date is set for two weeks from now.

The house has mostly brick siding, with some vertical cedar up higher on the outside walls. It's three bedroom, two bath, with a larger-than-normal kitchen. No dining room, but does have a small breakfast nook. Living room has a nice big bay window and a fireplace. Basement has some room for storage. It's a 2.5-car garage. The house is smaller than where we are now, but not tiny, and we do have people growing up who will be making their own way in the world within the next few years so the size is just about perfect.

One of the downers about the house is the large size of the yard; it's too much to mow. But given time we can put in plenty of berry canes, a large asparagus patch, maybe some strawberries and blueberries, and a garden. (Is there something wrong with my brain that I see plowing and weeding and watering as a lesser job than mowing grass?) The other downer about the house is that it has a pool. Pools take work and I'm not sure I'm up to it. But several friends have already expressed some pleasure that they'll be able to come over and swim & play. And it will be good for one of us who is a water-lover and whose cardiologist said that she needs a lot more exercise. So we'll give the pool a couple of years' worth of try, and we can always get rid of it if we think that would be better.

It's been mind-boggling to keep track of all the appointments and all the paper work and all the legal documents we've been signing, with many more to come. And now it's time to start boxing up books. It's kind of nice to know that there doesn't have to be One Big Moving Day. It's close enough (a 70-minute drive from here) that we can carry up loads in the van daily, and maybe rent a small U-Haul for a day, and then another day a week or so later, and do the job of moving as it works best (and easiest) for us.

Psalm 145

We pray at mealtimes:
The eyes of all look to You, O Lord,
and you give them their food at the proper time.
You open Your hand and satisfy the desires of every living thing.

Sometimes Jesus is referred to as "the Right Hand of the Father."

This psalm-verse obviously means that God opens up His hand to disperse His blessings of food and rain and sunshine and other blessings. But could it have another aspect too? Jesus -- the Hand of God -- was "opened" by the spear of the centurion. And that is what satisfies the desires of all people as well as all creation.

Let the water and the blood
from Thy riven side which flowed
be of sin the double cure,
cleanse me from its guilt and power.

Our eyes look to Him, and the food of His body and blood is given to us.

Ringing Phone

Boy, John McCain has called me so many times tonight! When Gary called in the middle of the evening, I surprised to find it was my husband calling me and not John McCain or his supporters.

Guess which state votes on Tuesday?

Pepper Grinder

I finally came up with a solution!

The pepper grinder we'd had for years finally quit. The gears were just worn out. I bought a cheapy replacement from Shopko; it lasted for 8 months before the handle broke off. For Christmas there was a nice new high-quality (HA!) pepper grinder from Bed, Bath, And Beyond. It worked well for two weeks. Today I was so exasperated with it, I timed it: three minutes of grinding garnered me a whole whoppin' 1/16 teaspoon of pepper. Now, I'm thinkin' that's pretty darn useless.

I got me a hammer from the basement. I got me a piece of paper out of the junk mail pile. I dumped a small pile of peppercorns onto the paper, folded in the corners to make a little package, and then hammered it to smithereens. When I opened up the little packet of junk mail, I had myself a nice tablespoon of smashed-up pepper for the bean soup. And it took significantly less than 144 minutes [do the math from the preceding paragraph].

Ug

That Ug-guy (the one who buys ugly houses) is in the business of taking fixer-uppers off the market. When Ug gets to them first and makes superficial repairs, that's great for the sellers, but a booger for the buyers.

Ug got to one of the houses we looked at a week ago. There were a lot of nice things about the house. But we didn't like the way the kitchen had been remodeled. If we had bought the place before Ug, we would've made very different decisions about where the new carpeting would go, and how much kitchen counter there'd be. But when something all new has been put in, it's hard to think about buying a house with plans to rework all those things that were just changed and made all-new. Such a waste of money. But putting in new carpet and new cupboards seem to be standard procedure when people are getting ready to sell a house. (One friend, though, who's improving his home with thoughts of selling in the next couple of years, he's doing high-quality work. That's different than doing what's needed to merely "flip" a house.)

New Schedule

Again this week, we shipped off Gary to Milwaukee with a suitcase packed for the whole week. The weather forecast looks like the only time safe to drive home will be Wednesday night, and that's church night. When you're used to having a husband/daddy around for meals, as well as five minutes here and there to pop in with the mail or to come get a refill on his water jug, it's pretty hard to switch over to seeing him for an hour on Friday evening, lunch on Saturday, an hour on Saturday evening, and some time on Sunday afternoon/evening. And then Monday morning you get to ship him off to live somewhere else for five days. I don't know how soldiers' wives and truckers' wives do it.

Computer Woes

Our internet connection was down for 14 hours. And now that it CAN operate, it does so only with difficulty. It's very hard to check email or do anything on the Web, so don't expect to hear from me for a while unless it's via the telephone. Bummers....

Cold

So cold that the tires froze to the garage floor.
So cold that the knob on church door froze, and the pastor's key was broken off in the lock which refused to move.
So cold that the thermometer froze again. It's trying to tell me it's 20º while the weather report online suggests it's -7º.