The other day I was editing. The section was from John 8. Jesus was telling the Pharisees, who claimed to know God, "If you had known Me, you would've known My Father also." That hit my ears oddly because I'd just recently heard the passages from John 14 where the passage is about knowing and seeing the Father. So I checked to see whether I was remembering right.
John 1 No one has seen God at any time. The Son has declared Him.
John 5 The Father has testified of the Son. You have neither heard Him nor seen Him.
John 6 The only one who has seen the Father is the one who is from God.
John 14 (to the apostles) If you had known Me, you would've known the Father. From now on [i.e., the Passion and crucifixion] you have known Him and seen Him. He who has seen Me has seen the Father.
John 15 (to the apostles, about the ones who are about to kill Jesus) Now they have seen and hated both Me and the Father.
So, basically, yeah, there was nothing in the Gospel of John about seeing the Father other than 1) we sinners can't, 2) except in the Passion of Christ. I thought that was interesting and something to wonder at -- how the seeing is added to the knowing, and that the seeing is to see a bloodied Jesus.
But then, about 15 minutes later, it was time for Bible class to start. The first article of the creed is so short: "I believe in God, the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth." That's it. That's the whole section. Not a lot there, just 12 words. Very succinct.
The second article, though, is a lot longer. It tells about Jesus and what He did. It tells stuff we can see. And it crossed my mind:
In the saving activity recited in the second article, we see Jesus. And when we see Jesus, we have seen the Father. What's in the second article shows us Who is in the first article.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Fence
Well, the guy who's going to take the pool off our hands (we think!) came on Tuesday night and Friday night this week. He and Gary worked for several hours each night. (Of course, wouldn't ya know, those were nights I was all organized and on time with dinner which then had to wait.)
A lot of the pool parts and accessories are gone. We have found that there is a LOT of gravel out there, surrounding the pool. A lot! I guess some of it's going to be used as fill-in for the deep hole in the center of the pool. We're not quite sure yet what's going to fill-in the rest of the low spot, but we'll work on that problem later.
The walls of the pool are still standing, as there was a problem undoing the seam where the two ends met. Gary thinks he's figured out a way to solve that without destroying the pool. But now we wonder if the guy taking the pool might've seen that problem as just too much to bother with.
Nicest at this point is that the ugly fence around the pool is down. It was rickety and not very nice looking and not even finished/sealed. It was adequate to its task -- keeping people away from the pool and drowning. But it looks so much nicer out back with that fence gone now! The fence posts are still there. They'll be slow in coming down as we discovered they were cemented into the ground. One or two fence-posts will probably be plenty of physical labor per day.
A lot of the pool parts and accessories are gone. We have found that there is a LOT of gravel out there, surrounding the pool. A lot! I guess some of it's going to be used as fill-in for the deep hole in the center of the pool. We're not quite sure yet what's going to fill-in the rest of the low spot, but we'll work on that problem later.
The walls of the pool are still standing, as there was a problem undoing the seam where the two ends met. Gary thinks he's figured out a way to solve that without destroying the pool. But now we wonder if the guy taking the pool might've seen that problem as just too much to bother with.
Nicest at this point is that the ugly fence around the pool is down. It was rickety and not very nice looking and not even finished/sealed. It was adequate to its task -- keeping people away from the pool and drowning. But it looks so much nicer out back with that fence gone now! The fence posts are still there. They'll be slow in coming down as we discovered they were cemented into the ground. One or two fence-posts will probably be plenty of physical labor per day.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Just Read the Book
A pastor has nothing of himself to give. I don't care much whether he's smart or slow, whether he's handsome or ugly, whether he's a great guy or a jerk. I care that he speaks the WORDS which God wants spoken. If he thinks he's got cool things to give us, I'm skeptical. I want him to read the book to me!
When the chaplain makes a hospital visit, he better be using the Pastoral Care Companion. When the pastor teaches Bible study, he better be using psalms and the hymnal for opening devotions, and for the class he better be using the Bible instead of "relevant" stories. When the pastor leads worship, it should be from the hymnal, Agenda, and Altar Book. And he should read all those notes in the Altar Book, the ones that tell you how to conduct a Tenebrae service, or that the Service of Prayer and Preaching is intended for catechetical services, but may be used on Sunday morning if there's no communion. Pastors should take note of the rubrics and obey them. After all, they have nothing to offer their people except what God wants them to have ... and those words are written in the book.
Pastor recently mentioned the missal stand and its placement. In Protestant churches the missal stand is in the center of the altar because the center of worship is understood to be our prayers to God. But in the Lutheran church, the missal stand is supposed to be off to the side so that the center is open. This is because the Sacrament of the Altar takes center place in our churches -- God's gift to us being a higher priority than our prayers to Him. At this point in the class, one of the men (a pastor himself) asked about it. He said that wasn't how it used to be; that wasn't how it was when he got out of sem. But Pastor pointed out that that was what was written in the book even back then.
Too many pastors only look at the pew edition of the hymnal and wing it as to rubrics and ceremony and other aspects of conducting the service. The book (such as the altar book, or the hymnal's handbook) tells you what to do. Your parishioners need you to READ THE BOOK! Read the book yourself to know what to do and how to do it. Read the book so that you are praying the liturgy that has been given by God to the Church through the centuries. Read the book so that you are praying what needs to be said instead of what tumbles out of your own heart and mouth. Please READ THE BOOK!
When the chaplain makes a hospital visit, he better be using the Pastoral Care Companion. When the pastor teaches Bible study, he better be using psalms and the hymnal for opening devotions, and for the class he better be using the Bible instead of "relevant" stories. When the pastor leads worship, it should be from the hymnal, Agenda, and Altar Book. And he should read all those notes in the Altar Book, the ones that tell you how to conduct a Tenebrae service, or that the Service of Prayer and Preaching is intended for catechetical services, but may be used on Sunday morning if there's no communion. Pastors should take note of the rubrics and obey them. After all, they have nothing to offer their people except what God wants them to have ... and those words are written in the book.
Pastor recently mentioned the missal stand and its placement. In Protestant churches the missal stand is in the center of the altar because the center of worship is understood to be our prayers to God. But in the Lutheran church, the missal stand is supposed to be off to the side so that the center is open. This is because the Sacrament of the Altar takes center place in our churches -- God's gift to us being a higher priority than our prayers to Him. At this point in the class, one of the men (a pastor himself) asked about it. He said that wasn't how it used to be; that wasn't how it was when he got out of sem. But Pastor pointed out that that was what was written in the book even back then.
Too many pastors only look at the pew edition of the hymnal and wing it as to rubrics and ceremony and other aspects of conducting the service. The book (such as the altar book, or the hymnal's handbook) tells you what to do. Your parishioners need you to READ THE BOOK! Read the book yourself to know what to do and how to do it. Read the book so that you are praying the liturgy that has been given by God to the Church through the centuries. Read the book so that you are praying what needs to be said instead of what tumbles out of your own heart and mouth. Please READ THE BOOK!
Wheat Prices
I went to Woodman's today during Andrew's drivers ed class. Flour prices have gone up again. No surprise really. But the comparison of prices was what threw me. Flour used to be about 20 cents/lb and fruit was $1-2 per pound, and meat was $2-4 per pound. Now flour is $.86/lb. Pink Lady apples were $.83/lb and strawberries were $1.49/pound. Now THAT's weird, when fruit is cheaper than flour!
Friday, May 09, 2008
Just
We speak what we hear. If we hang out with people with potty-mouths, we will end up thinking/speaking profanity. If we live in the South where everyone says "y'all," we will end up with a drawl. If we listen to Christian radio, we will end up with the vocabulary of the fundamentalists and evangelicals. If we read Eastern Orthodox books, we will more and more speak and believe like the Orthodox. If a pastor immerses himself in Luther's Works, his preaching and prayers will sound more and more Lutheran.
"Lord, we just pray that You will ..."
"Just" means "exactly, precisely." Do we really mean to say that this petition is the only thing we want to pray? No. It's just the way some people pray, and if we hear it repeatedly, it is what we will say when we pray.
When a Lutheran pastor prays aloud during the Service, he should pray like a Lutheran and not like a fundamentalist. We have the hymnal. We have the Agenda. We have the Altar Book. If the pastor can pray ex corde ("from the heart," less reverently known as "winging it") and I can't tell, then he has learned to pray from the psalms and the collects so that what comes out of his mouth reflects what he has been praying all along. What the pastor is praying is faithful to what God intends for us to pray. But when the word "just" slips past his lips, he is revealing that his prayers have not been steeped in the catechism, the hymnal, and the psalter. His guidance in prayer has been from those with a different theology. And that does not belong at the altar as he leads his people in prayer.
A pastor has limited ways he can use the word "just" during public prayer. 1) As a surname, such as praying for Dr Just while he travels in Africa. 2) As an adjective, such as praying for wise & just rulers. But if he uses "just" as an adverb, it is time for him to strictly limit himself to READING the prayers -- reading them straight up -- from the hymnal.
"Lord, we just pray that You will ..."
"Just" means "exactly, precisely." Do we really mean to say that this petition is the only thing we want to pray? No. It's just the way some people pray, and if we hear it repeatedly, it is what we will say when we pray.
When a Lutheran pastor prays aloud during the Service, he should pray like a Lutheran and not like a fundamentalist. We have the hymnal. We have the Agenda. We have the Altar Book. If the pastor can pray ex corde ("from the heart," less reverently known as "winging it") and I can't tell, then he has learned to pray from the psalms and the collects so that what comes out of his mouth reflects what he has been praying all along. What the pastor is praying is faithful to what God intends for us to pray. But when the word "just" slips past his lips, he is revealing that his prayers have not been steeped in the catechism, the hymnal, and the psalter. His guidance in prayer has been from those with a different theology. And that does not belong at the altar as he leads his people in prayer.
A pastor has limited ways he can use the word "just" during public prayer. 1) As a surname, such as praying for Dr Just while he travels in Africa. 2) As an adjective, such as praying for wise & just rulers. But if he uses "just" as an adverb, it is time for him to strictly limit himself to READING the prayers -- reading them straight up -- from the hymnal.
Thursday, May 08, 2008
Cast Iron
Lesson learned today:
Do not season the skillet with tallow. Lard works great. Crisco works. Even olive oil is kinda okay. But beef fat is not a good plan....
Don't ask me how I know. But if you come over, you may want to bring nose plugs.
Do not season the skillet with tallow. Lard works great. Crisco works. Even olive oil is kinda okay. But beef fat is not a good plan....
Don't ask me how I know. But if you come over, you may want to bring nose plugs.
Doesn't Jive
Why do I keep hearing about volunteer programs being canceled due to lack of funds?
For just one example, yesterday's paper had a headline about lack of funds resulting in the cancellation of some programs that require students to volunteer to do community service. (Hey, looky there: the previous sentence has TWO -- not just one but two -- examples of oxymoronic action.)
What COST is there to an organization (or the government) for VOLUNTEERS to do work? I think there must be some bureaucracy somewhere that benefits financially from volunteerism. Otherwise, this makes no sense.
For just one example, yesterday's paper had a headline about lack of funds resulting in the cancellation of some programs that require students to volunteer to do community service. (Hey, looky there: the previous sentence has TWO -- not just one but two -- examples of oxymoronic action.)
What COST is there to an organization (or the government) for VOLUNTEERS to do work? I think there must be some bureaucracy somewhere that benefits financially from volunteerism. Otherwise, this makes no sense.
My Old Shorts
It's been warm. Too warm to jog in my long jogging pants. I have two pairs of jogging shorts. (I think I do. Maybe I'm remembering something different. I never know any more, what with all the changes with the move, whether I'm remembering a plan that was or wasn't actually implemented. It is NOT time to re-watch A Beautiful Mind!)
Annnnyway, if I have two pairs of jogging shorts, one is AWOL. Maybe in a box. Maybe in a cupboard. Maybe hiding behind the milk in the fridge or under a lamp in the living room??? So in these warm days, I grabbed the blue shorts and started to put them on. OH, elastic, where have you gone? The waistband is shot; all sproinginess forever depleted by age. Y'know how old elastic crackles when it stretches, breaking and crumbling? I hate that sound!
So the blue shorts went into the trash. My good ol' shorts. My comfortable ol' shorts. How could they give up the ghost so soon? Wait! Soon? I started thinking. How old are those shorts? Let's see, I bought them at the end of junior high school. Those shorts were more than 30 years old. Granted, with the huge number of years I was pregnant and the great number of Wisconsin months where shorts are unwearable, those things could last a good long time. But I suppose even with those allowances, thirty years for an elastic waistband was pretty darn good. (What did it say in Deuteronomy about the Israelites' clothes and shoes not wearing out for 40 years?)
Annnnyway, if I have two pairs of jogging shorts, one is AWOL. Maybe in a box. Maybe in a cupboard. Maybe hiding behind the milk in the fridge or under a lamp in the living room??? So in these warm days, I grabbed the blue shorts and started to put them on. OH, elastic, where have you gone? The waistband is shot; all sproinginess forever depleted by age. Y'know how old elastic crackles when it stretches, breaking and crumbling? I hate that sound!
So the blue shorts went into the trash. My good ol' shorts. My comfortable ol' shorts. How could they give up the ghost so soon? Wait! Soon? I started thinking. How old are those shorts? Let's see, I bought them at the end of junior high school. Those shorts were more than 30 years old. Granted, with the huge number of years I was pregnant and the great number of Wisconsin months where shorts are unwearable, those things could last a good long time. But I suppose even with those allowances, thirty years for an elastic waistband was pretty darn good. (What did it say in Deuteronomy about the Israelites' clothes and shoes not wearing out for 40 years?)
Good Shepherd Sunday
Oh, this is so cool!
(We were in John 21 for Bible class today.)
On Easter Sunday, we read the stories in the gospels regarding the resurrection of Jesus. Okay, we all know that.
On the first Sunday after Easter, we read the story of what happened on the Sunday after Jesus' resurrection -- the story of Thomas putting his finger into the wounds in Jesus' hands. Okay, lots of us know that too.
But the second Sunday after Easter we read John 10. It's Good Shepherd Sunday. That's not the story of what happened on the second Sunday after Jesus' resurrection: that day was the great catch of fish (in John 21). But that same Sunday, after the catch of fish and breakfast with Jesus, is the conversation between Peter and Jesus. "Simon, do you love Me? Feed My lambs. Simon, do you love Me? Tend My sheep. Simon, do you love Me? Feed My sheep." THAT must be why the Church celebrated Good Shepherd Sunday on the second Sunday after Easter. Those shepherd-stories from Ezekiel and John are placed there for a reason!
(We were in John 21 for Bible class today.)
On Easter Sunday, we read the stories in the gospels regarding the resurrection of Jesus. Okay, we all know that.
On the first Sunday after Easter, we read the story of what happened on the Sunday after Jesus' resurrection -- the story of Thomas putting his finger into the wounds in Jesus' hands. Okay, lots of us know that too.
But the second Sunday after Easter we read John 10. It's Good Shepherd Sunday. That's not the story of what happened on the second Sunday after Jesus' resurrection: that day was the great catch of fish (in John 21). But that same Sunday, after the catch of fish and breakfast with Jesus, is the conversation between Peter and Jesus. "Simon, do you love Me? Feed My lambs. Simon, do you love Me? Tend My sheep. Simon, do you love Me? Feed My sheep." THAT must be why the Church celebrated Good Shepherd Sunday on the second Sunday after Easter. Those shepherd-stories from Ezekiel and John are placed there for a reason!
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
The Eleven
A few days ago our Bible story was the end of Acts 1 when the group of disciples had the first synodical convention and voted on a twelfth apostle, choosing Matthias for Judas's spot. In the past, Pastor Wiest had pointed out to us that Jesus didn't tell them to vote, Jesus didn't tell them to fill a vacancy, Jesus didn't tell them they needed twelve right away. Jesus told them to wait. They didn't wait very well. (Looky, looky -- they're just like me! Oh, wait, that'd be a tangent....)
Paul would be the twelfth. But it would be quite a while before God sent them #12.
Pastor pointed out something this morning in our Bible story from Acts 2. Luke (closely associated with Paul) was still talking about "the Eleven" even after Matthias's election. It's like Luke was making a point that, even though Matthias "was numbered with the Eleven," he was not #12. Luke continues to refer to "the Eleven."
I'd never noticed that before.
Paul would be the twelfth. But it would be quite a while before God sent them #12.
Pastor pointed out something this morning in our Bible story from Acts 2. Luke (closely associated with Paul) was still talking about "the Eleven" even after Matthias's election. It's like Luke was making a point that, even though Matthias "was numbered with the Eleven," he was not #12. Luke continues to refer to "the Eleven."
I'd never noticed that before.
Yellow Lights
When I was growing up I learned that green means go, red means stop, and yellow means the light is going to change to red pretty soon.
So if the light is about to change to red, what does that mean? Some people think it means slow down. Some people think it means speed up. Others think it means go through the intersection so that you don't have to wait through a red light.
I think what Andrew learned in drivers ed makes loads of sense. A yellow means "Stop if you can do so safely." So rather than a yellow being "You're going to have to decide what to do," it seems like less to think about (and right now I neeeeed less to think about!) to remember "yellow means stop."
So if the light is about to change to red, what does that mean? Some people think it means slow down. Some people think it means speed up. Others think it means go through the intersection so that you don't have to wait through a red light.
I think what Andrew learned in drivers ed makes loads of sense. A yellow means "Stop if you can do so safely." So rather than a yellow being "You're going to have to decide what to do," it seems like less to think about (and right now I neeeeed less to think about!) to remember "yellow means stop."
Wood Pile
One of the very best parts of my job is that there's lots of different stuff to do, and I get to be the one to decide when to do it. I can do loads of cooking on one day and then put it in the freezer for another day. The kids and I can have a reading marathon, or read one chapter per day. We can go for a walk or do laundry or hit up the library, as we decide would work best.
That's one of the things I feel bad about Gary losing. Now he has to go to work and be indoors doing his job, and can no longer adjust his days/duties based on weather or health or other needs.
Yesterday I had all sorts of things I wanted to catch up on, and I had no idea where to start. But the day was gorgeous, and back on Sunday Maggie and I had started cleaning up the pile of wood for the fireplace, getting rid of garbage and weeds and rotted wood. With rain due today, I wanted to get that project completed. So we spent the day outside, in the sun and the warmth and the lovely fresh air. We got a big chunk of work taken care of, and kept a nice little campfire going all day (and even cooked steaks over it for supper).
And ...
in the process of all that cleaning up,
we found (underneath the place where the woodpile used to be)
some very nice dirt already dug up and crumbly and black. So with relatively little work with a rake, we now have a tiny little bit of lettuce and kohlrabi planted.
Oh, dear. That's got me dreaming of asparagus and raspberries and strawberries. And tomatoes and beans and potatoes. And that stuff is probably still a long way away, what with turning lawn into garden (and not even knowing yet where we can do so, seeing as how we don't know where the new septic system is going to be placed).
Looking forward to fresh lettuce in 45 days! Oh boy!
That's one of the things I feel bad about Gary losing. Now he has to go to work and be indoors doing his job, and can no longer adjust his days/duties based on weather or health or other needs.
Yesterday I had all sorts of things I wanted to catch up on, and I had no idea where to start. But the day was gorgeous, and back on Sunday Maggie and I had started cleaning up the pile of wood for the fireplace, getting rid of garbage and weeds and rotted wood. With rain due today, I wanted to get that project completed. So we spent the day outside, in the sun and the warmth and the lovely fresh air. We got a big chunk of work taken care of, and kept a nice little campfire going all day (and even cooked steaks over it for supper).
And ...
in the process of all that cleaning up,
we found (underneath the place where the woodpile used to be)
some very nice dirt already dug up and crumbly and black. So with relatively little work with a rake, we now have a tiny little bit of lettuce and kohlrabi planted.
Oh, dear. That's got me dreaming of asparagus and raspberries and strawberries. And tomatoes and beans and potatoes. And that stuff is probably still a long way away, what with turning lawn into garden (and not even knowing yet where we can do so, seeing as how we don't know where the new septic system is going to be placed).
Looking forward to fresh lettuce in 45 days! Oh boy!
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Cooking Therapy
After three days of being away from home virtually all day, I'm tired. I want to be home resting. At Matins this morning (on the way to getting Zippy's blinker fixed... so why am I talking about staying at home to rest today???) a friend asked if things were slowing down and how it was going.
I told him about the recent running around, and that I was looking forward to a day at home, just making granola and raking the yard and baking bread and making a real dinner and stuff like that. He looked at me and said, "No wonder you're tired!"
Tired? Tired from making granola and putzing around the kitchen? Those things are therapeutic! Those things are calm! Those things are refreshing! Too many days away from my stove and mixing bowls, and life is just not right.
I told him about the recent running around, and that I was looking forward to a day at home, just making granola and raking the yard and baking bread and making a real dinner and stuff like that. He looked at me and said, "No wonder you're tired!"
Tired? Tired from making granola and putzing around the kitchen? Those things are therapeutic! Those things are calm! Those things are refreshing! Too many days away from my stove and mixing bowls, and life is just not right.
Responsibility Levels
I get so frustrated when people don't do what they say they're going to do. The man who's going to be putting in our septic system said he'd stop by last week to see how the soil-moisture levels are doing. He didn't. When I called to check with him this week, I keep getting no answer.
I took Zippy in to get her a new left blinker after a little bump into her fender. I was supposed to be there at 8:00 when they opened. The employees didn't show up to open the repair shop this morning until 8:25.
The guy who said he'd take our pool hasn't started on the work. It's been over two weeks since I told him he could have it, and 12 days since we called him and told him that the deck was out of the way and that he was free to come over and start dismantling. He's been over here. But the work has not commenced. I'm going to have to get a hold of another volunteer to take the pool off our hands.
The pastor where we were visiting on Sunday got creative. Not only did he not stick to the book, but he tried to tell us that he actually was using the liturgy from Service of Prayer and Preaching. Uhhhh, NO. It had no resemblance to that.
Why can't people just do what they say they're going to do? I think sometimes Pastor B doesn't know what to do with my editing because I tend to be more like Scotty on Star Trek: I'd rather set up low expectations and then actually accomplish what I promised (and maybe even do better/more than what I intended). But it seems like too many people in the workplace today will over-represent what they can do, and then let down the customers. And on another tangent, that's why somebody should hire Philip; he'll do what he's supposed to do.
Given the selfishness exhibited in so many areas of society (driving habits, waiting in lines, not showing up for appointments, etc) I suspect that this problem in the business world is just going to get worse and worse as the years pass.
I took Zippy in to get her a new left blinker after a little bump into her fender. I was supposed to be there at 8:00 when they opened. The employees didn't show up to open the repair shop this morning until 8:25.
The guy who said he'd take our pool hasn't started on the work. It's been over two weeks since I told him he could have it, and 12 days since we called him and told him that the deck was out of the way and that he was free to come over and start dismantling. He's been over here. But the work has not commenced. I'm going to have to get a hold of another volunteer to take the pool off our hands.
The pastor where we were visiting on Sunday got creative. Not only did he not stick to the book, but he tried to tell us that he actually was using the liturgy from Service of Prayer and Preaching. Uhhhh, NO. It had no resemblance to that.
Why can't people just do what they say they're going to do? I think sometimes Pastor B doesn't know what to do with my editing because I tend to be more like Scotty on Star Trek: I'd rather set up low expectations and then actually accomplish what I promised (and maybe even do better/more than what I intended). But it seems like too many people in the workplace today will over-represent what they can do, and then let down the customers. And on another tangent, that's why somebody should hire Philip; he'll do what he's supposed to do.
Given the selfishness exhibited in so many areas of society (driving habits, waiting in lines, not showing up for appointments, etc) I suspect that this problem in the business world is just going to get worse and worse as the years pass.
Saturday, May 03, 2008
Epitaph for a Home
I dropped Andrew off at drivers ed today, and then headed to the parsonage. The house had been emptied of all our belongings (except the refrigerator), but there was still quite a bit in the garage. During Andrew's class, I loaded the van with most of that stuff. When Gary got off work, he drove down, and one of the guys from church helped us load the big things into his trailer. So now everything's out, and we're done there.
It feels odd. On the one hand, it's good. That parsonage is mildew infested, centipede infested, and my bedroom window-sill is composed of wood crumbs and Asian beetle corpses glued together with too much paint. The parsonage is mildew infested [you think that's a mistake that I type that adjective twice? NO] and has rotten ventilation in the attic and a stupidly designed kitchen. It has not been infested with mice since we lived there because we kept cats (but it was plagued with mice for a couple of decades). The basement floods. Sizable wild mammals lived in the crawlspace at times. It was poorly insulated so that my bedroom was horribly cold all winter. The foundation is cracking. And by the way, it's mildew infested. Not a good house.
But still...
it's home.
This afternoon, after I'd loaded the van, waiting for the guys to show up, I looked around. I vacuumed that carpet thousands of times; I shampooed it dozens of times. Thousands of diapers flapped in the breeze on that clotheslines. I know the good hiding places on the lawn for Easter eggs. I painted those walls. My children picked those dandelions and brought me beeeeautfiul bouquets. Over there was my strawberry patch, and over here was Beau's pen and stable. The lilacs are late this year; I know because this is WPA weekend, and every year I prepped for my lectures with the perfume of lilacs. How many times did I hang streamers in this dining room to celebrate birthdays? The cutting board in this kitchen is where my children begged to help eat the apple peelings when applesauce was being made. This is where we got to know Matt and Nathan. That south patch of the lawn was where my children learned to make contact between a plastic bat and a whiffle ball, and which direction to head when you hit the ball. Those hostas that I transplanted and were so puny are now growing lush and full. That "weed" that showed up in my garden is now an aspen over 25' high. When I sit in the empty house and need to know the time, I look at the empty place on the wall where the clock lived for 17 years. When I sit in the empty house, killing time with my editing, and Fabrizius says something awesome, my eyes drift to the place on the wall where the crucifix is no longer hanging.
It may be a wretched building,
it may be a horrible house,
but it was my home.
It feels odd. On the one hand, it's good. That parsonage is mildew infested, centipede infested, and my bedroom window-sill is composed of wood crumbs and Asian beetle corpses glued together with too much paint. The parsonage is mildew infested [you think that's a mistake that I type that adjective twice? NO] and has rotten ventilation in the attic and a stupidly designed kitchen. It has not been infested with mice since we lived there because we kept cats (but it was plagued with mice for a couple of decades). The basement floods. Sizable wild mammals lived in the crawlspace at times. It was poorly insulated so that my bedroom was horribly cold all winter. The foundation is cracking. And by the way, it's mildew infested. Not a good house.
But still...
it's home.
This afternoon, after I'd loaded the van, waiting for the guys to show up, I looked around. I vacuumed that carpet thousands of times; I shampooed it dozens of times. Thousands of diapers flapped in the breeze on that clotheslines. I know the good hiding places on the lawn for Easter eggs. I painted those walls. My children picked those dandelions and brought me beeeeautfiul bouquets. Over there was my strawberry patch, and over here was Beau's pen and stable. The lilacs are late this year; I know because this is WPA weekend, and every year I prepped for my lectures with the perfume of lilacs. How many times did I hang streamers in this dining room to celebrate birthdays? The cutting board in this kitchen is where my children begged to help eat the apple peelings when applesauce was being made. This is where we got to know Matt and Nathan. That south patch of the lawn was where my children learned to make contact between a plastic bat and a whiffle ball, and which direction to head when you hit the ball. Those hostas that I transplanted and were so puny are now growing lush and full. That "weed" that showed up in my garden is now an aspen over 25' high. When I sit in the empty house and need to know the time, I look at the empty place on the wall where the clock lived for 17 years. When I sit in the empty house, killing time with my editing, and Fabrizius says something awesome, my eyes drift to the place on the wall where the crucifix is no longer hanging.
It may be a wretched building,
it may be a horrible house,
but it was my home.
Women's Suffrage
I happened to catch a portion of a talk-show on the radio this evening. The author of The Curse of 1920 was being interviewed. His claim was that women's suffrage was the beginning of feminism destroying American society. Now, that's subjective, and lots of people can have different takes on what's been happening in society. I have no idea what else is in the book, and if it's good or bad. But I found one aspect of his research very interesting:
In every country where women's suffrage is enacted,
the government suddenly grows rapidly,
the govt budget explodes,
and the "nanny state" takes over.
In every country where women's suffrage is enacted,
the government suddenly grows rapidly,
the govt budget explodes,
and the "nanny state" takes over.
Friday, May 02, 2008
Wasted
Housing is hard to come by at the local public university. We put down a housing deposit for Paul early last winter, knowing that he stood no chance of getting a dorm room if we didn't, and knowing also that we could (on the off-chance he decided to attend a different college) get the deposit back.
I was sure I had put a note on the calendar for the third week of April to make sure we didn't need the housing deposit refunded.
But I hadn't. And Paul is pretty well settled on Bethany College. Today I remembered that the deadline for retrieving that dorm-deposit was sometime at the start of May. We checked. Deadline was yesterday. It's too late. This is the most expensive forgetfulness I've committed in a long long time (and probably ever).
I was sure I had put a note on the calendar for the third week of April to make sure we didn't need the housing deposit refunded.
But I hadn't. And Paul is pretty well settled on Bethany College. Today I remembered that the deadline for retrieving that dorm-deposit was sometime at the start of May. We checked. Deadline was yesterday. It's too late. This is the most expensive forgetfulness I've committed in a long long time (and probably ever).
Behind
Y'know, when there's "too much to do," sometimes you can keep your head on straight and just keep plugging away at the responsibilities. You may never whittle down the to-do list. Items may be added to the list faster than they're taken off.
But then there comes a point that the jobs and responsibilities pile up SO much faster that it seems entirely pointless to even try. And then any motivation to keep plugging away just flies right out the window. After all, if hard work doesn't pay off and things are still falling apart all around you, why put in the effort at all?
But then there comes a point that the jobs and responsibilities pile up SO much faster that it seems entirely pointless to even try. And then any motivation to keep plugging away just flies right out the window. After all, if hard work doesn't pay off and things are still falling apart all around you, why put in the effort at all?
Thursday, May 01, 2008
Mowing
The boys discovered something today. Mowing in the kettle-moraine area of Wisconsin takes a lot more physical effort than mowing in the flatlands of Illinois.
We were wondering if we'd be able to get by with a push mower instead of a lawn tractor. None of the neighbors pushes a lawnmower. We don't even have a very hilly yard compared to the folks in the area, but it's got gobs more "character" to it than the flat flat flat prairie we used to mow. I suppose a tractor could be used with a garden-plow in summer and with a snow-plow in winter. But as Gary pointed out, it would have to be a little tractor with some power or the rolling yard would be too much for the engine.
Another new thing to learn about....
We were wondering if we'd be able to get by with a push mower instead of a lawn tractor. None of the neighbors pushes a lawnmower. We don't even have a very hilly yard compared to the folks in the area, but it's got gobs more "character" to it than the flat flat flat prairie we used to mow. I suppose a tractor could be used with a garden-plow in summer and with a snow-plow in winter. But as Gary pointed out, it would have to be a little tractor with some power or the rolling yard would be too much for the engine.
Another new thing to learn about....
Dried Apple Pie
Last time I mail-ordered bulk spices, I also bought dried apples. They're so expensive in the store, and we like them so much. When the box arrived, we discovered that the apples were not sweetened -- just dried. Up till then, I'd never paid attention to the fact that most grocery-store dried apples were laced with sweeteners.
But it was okay that these were unsweetened, because these were healthier and still tasted good. The one thing I didn't like, though, was that the apples were sliced and dried. That's it -- just sliced. Not cored. Stems still attached. I guess I'm too picky: I found that kinda unappetizing. So those apples have been sitting around for quite a while, not getting gobbled down at the rate I expected.
So I came up with a plan. Pie out of dried apples. I threw a big pile of dried apples into a saucepan, barely covered them with water, and then simmered them for about 20 minutes. Then I could use the rehydrated apples in any ol' pie recipe. The water for simmering was used the next morning for cooking oatmeal.
The pie tasted great. I'm not too fond of finding seeds in the pie, but I don't think that's a big enough deterrent to making another dried-apple pie.
But it was okay that these were unsweetened, because these were healthier and still tasted good. The one thing I didn't like, though, was that the apples were sliced and dried. That's it -- just sliced. Not cored. Stems still attached. I guess I'm too picky: I found that kinda unappetizing. So those apples have been sitting around for quite a while, not getting gobbled down at the rate I expected.
So I came up with a plan. Pie out of dried apples. I threw a big pile of dried apples into a saucepan, barely covered them with water, and then simmered them for about 20 minutes. Then I could use the rehydrated apples in any ol' pie recipe. The water for simmering was used the next morning for cooking oatmeal.
The pie tasted great. I'm not too fond of finding seeds in the pie, but I don't think that's a big enough deterrent to making another dried-apple pie.
In the Water
Bible class today was ostensibly on John 21. (Hey, we did get to it evennntually. We DID.) Earlier in the Gospels there is a story similar to the post-Easter catch of fish. The mini-version is in Matthew 4 and the fuller version is in Luke 5. Pastor was pointing out the differences in the story, and how those differences are important.
So as we're going along, I wanted to know why Peter jumped into the water when John told him (21:7) that it was Jesus on shore. I knew that it's not just a history factoid of who did what when in the story, but there's something theological behind it too. I just didn't know what.
Nancy and Pastor started talking about the story where Jesus walked on the water (Mt 14, Mk 6, Jn 6). Peter wasn't sure it was the Lord; he doubted. He wanted to go to his teacher, and said, "If it is You, tell me to come." Jesus said, "Come," but still Peter sank in the water because his eyes were not fixed on Jesus.
Now, after Easter, after the absolution and the peace of the previous Sundays, Peter sees his lord and does not doubt, but goes to Him straightaway. Like Pastor said, when a person comes to faith and recognizes the voice of his Lord, what does he do? He heads straight for the water.
I thought that was cool.
So as we're going along, I wanted to know why Peter jumped into the water when John told him (21:7) that it was Jesus on shore. I knew that it's not just a history factoid of who did what when in the story, but there's something theological behind it too. I just didn't know what.
Nancy and Pastor started talking about the story where Jesus walked on the water (Mt 14, Mk 6, Jn 6). Peter wasn't sure it was the Lord; he doubted. He wanted to go to his teacher, and said, "If it is You, tell me to come." Jesus said, "Come," but still Peter sank in the water because his eyes were not fixed on Jesus.
Now, after Easter, after the absolution and the peace of the previous Sundays, Peter sees his lord and does not doubt, but goes to Him straightaway. Like Pastor said, when a person comes to faith and recognizes the voice of his Lord, what does he do? He heads straight for the water.
I thought that was cool.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
A Homeschooling Failure
There were several big reasons that we began homeschooling. Most of those became far less important over the first couple of years, while other benefits of homeschooling seemed to shine more brightly. One of the reasons I liked homeschooling was because I didn't have to give grades. Some people are just such unbelievable perfectionists, and from the educational materials I read, it seems that grades just feed right into that, making kids care more about their scores than they should. The learning should be the important thing, and the grades should be relatively unimportant. Self-worth should not be tied into the score on the top of an exam or term paper.
So Coral (a friend whose mom homeschooled them a lot like we homeschool) goes to college, and gets distressed over a 92%. And my Philip goes to college and thinks a B is a failing grade. And Katie goes to college and thinks the same thing. And Andrew goes to drivers ed and is distraught over any grade that's in the 80s, and deeply covets not only a 100% but wants a 104% from the extra credit.
It didn't work, did it? Homeschooling in a relaxed manner, focusing on learning instead of on grades, and not giving tests ... and still they think an A is acceptable, an A- is bad, and an A+ is where it's at! I consider that a homeschooling failure.
So Coral (a friend whose mom homeschooled them a lot like we homeschool) goes to college, and gets distressed over a 92%. And my Philip goes to college and thinks a B is a failing grade. And Katie goes to college and thinks the same thing. And Andrew goes to drivers ed and is distraught over any grade that's in the 80s, and deeply covets not only a 100% but wants a 104% from the extra credit.
It didn't work, did it? Homeschooling in a relaxed manner, focusing on learning instead of on grades, and not giving tests ... and still they think an A is acceptable, an A- is bad, and an A+ is where it's at! I consider that a homeschooling failure.
Curtain Call
Curtain Call is a pretty cute little movie -- romantic comedy for a modern couple, with a pair of scrappy ghosts (MacGonagall from Harry Potter and Victor from Miss Congeniality) thrown in. The ghosts get their marriage settled and fall in love again, and the couple (actually, the guy) decides that commitment isn't such a bad thing after all. Lots of laughs!
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Sensitization
With Earth Day last week, all the local libraries had displays of "green" books. Being a new home-owner, and having just left a house that was a mess and a detriment to our health, I happily picked up Prescriptions for a Healthy House when I saw it.
It seemed that most of the information was more apropos to those who were building a house instead of those who are making repairs and improvements. Nevertheless, I found some helpful advice as I briefly skimmed various parts of the book.
But there was one thing that particularly clarified a few things for me. Some of the testimonials in the book were about people who seemed "too" sensitive to electromagnetic fields or certain chemical smells or mold or whatever. After all, there are people who scoff at allergies: "It doesn't bother me." "It's all in your head." "Why do so many people have allergies these days when they didn't used to? Is it a fad or something?"
The book helped me realize part of the answer to those questions. People's bodies and immune systems can fight only so much. It's like when you get a cold after being chilled in the rain. The cold wet weather didn't make you sick; a virus did. But the cold wet weather sapped your body's ability to fight the virus, and then the virus could overcome your immune system. Likewise, people with good healthy constitutions can fight all sorts of attacks from pollens and plastics and molds and high-fructose corn syrup and so much more.
But when a person gets overloaded, he loses the battle. Those toxins or electrical fields or pollens just overwhelm the immune system. Maybe a person was exposed to too many chemicals on the job. Maybe a person lived in a mildewy house. Maybe a person was never tremendously healthy and just couldn't take all the average "hits" that Americans today throw at our bodies (McDonalds, vaccinations, white bread, Glade air fresheners, Flonase, etc) and that most people tolerate just fine. Once the person gets knocked down, once a person is sensitized, each little "hit" hurts worse and takes longer to recover from, even though the person could tolerate the annoyance the previous year. That's when people end up on whacky diets, staying away from gluten, or drinking carrot juice and kombucha, and avoiding pesticides on their gardens, and using wind-up alarm clocks instead of plug-in ones. The purpose behind those measures is to simply provide the body a rest, a "no-hit zone" for a while, to have a chance to recuperate from the abuse it took.
The encouraging thing I found in the book was that many of the folks in the testimonials WERE regaining their health and getting stronger, so that they weren't wallopped by every little thing.
It seemed that most of the information was more apropos to those who were building a house instead of those who are making repairs and improvements. Nevertheless, I found some helpful advice as I briefly skimmed various parts of the book.
But there was one thing that particularly clarified a few things for me. Some of the testimonials in the book were about people who seemed "too" sensitive to electromagnetic fields or certain chemical smells or mold or whatever. After all, there are people who scoff at allergies: "It doesn't bother me." "It's all in your head." "Why do so many people have allergies these days when they didn't used to? Is it a fad or something?"
The book helped me realize part of the answer to those questions. People's bodies and immune systems can fight only so much. It's like when you get a cold after being chilled in the rain. The cold wet weather didn't make you sick; a virus did. But the cold wet weather sapped your body's ability to fight the virus, and then the virus could overcome your immune system. Likewise, people with good healthy constitutions can fight all sorts of attacks from pollens and plastics and molds and high-fructose corn syrup and so much more.
But when a person gets overloaded, he loses the battle. Those toxins or electrical fields or pollens just overwhelm the immune system. Maybe a person was exposed to too many chemicals on the job. Maybe a person lived in a mildewy house. Maybe a person was never tremendously healthy and just couldn't take all the average "hits" that Americans today throw at our bodies (McDonalds, vaccinations, white bread, Glade air fresheners, Flonase, etc) and that most people tolerate just fine. Once the person gets knocked down, once a person is sensitized, each little "hit" hurts worse and takes longer to recover from, even though the person could tolerate the annoyance the previous year. That's when people end up on whacky diets, staying away from gluten, or drinking carrot juice and kombucha, and avoiding pesticides on their gardens, and using wind-up alarm clocks instead of plug-in ones. The purpose behind those measures is to simply provide the body a rest, a "no-hit zone" for a while, to have a chance to recuperate from the abuse it took.
The encouraging thing I found in the book was that many of the folks in the testimonials WERE regaining their health and getting stronger, so that they weren't wallopped by every little thing.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Mommy Blog
For Katie,
for friends with large families,
and for us old-folks who enjoy reminiscing about when the kids were little,
go read Concordian Sisters of Perpetual Parturition. I'm so glad Glenda pointed it out a week or so ago, and figured I ought to share the fun!
for friends with large families,
and for us old-folks who enjoy reminiscing about when the kids were little,
go read Concordian Sisters of Perpetual Parturition. I'm so glad Glenda pointed it out a week or so ago, and figured I ought to share the fun!
Staying Warm
(Rachel is gonna hate this post.)
There's a scene near the beginning of Beckett that made a huge impression on me. Now, ya gotta realize that some of my friends (pastor guys) like the movie because of what it says about the honor of God, or what it says about the weight of the Office changing men. But me, cold little me, chilly little me -- I vividly remember the scene where Thomas Beckett was making Henry bathe daily in cold water because it would help him not to be too soft, would toughen him up, would make him able to endure the cold.
I haven't jogged daily this past winter. I was colder this winter. When I started a daily discipline of jogging nearly four years ago, I started when it was warm and sunny and lovely outdoors. I kept going when it got cooler. I kept going when it was downright cold. I even went out and jogged when it was well below zero. I didn't get the chills so badly that winter. Nor the next year. Nor the next. This year, however, there was a wicked ice storm and snow and more ice and more snow and so forth. And then illness and house-hunting and being out of town and other reasons conspired to aid my lazy nature in finding excuses to avoid jogging. And I spent my winter feeling cold.
Similarly I find that those who do not have air-conditioning do not NEED air conditioning. Being in the AC for the bulk of your day (like, at work) makes your body less able to deal with the heat and humidity.
So I think those of us who feel cold all the time [you know who you are] might find it easier to bear if you/we force ourselves out into the winter weather daily for 15-30 minutes. Come to think of it, I wonder if that's why little kids don't mind the cold so much -- because their mothers toss them out the door to play in the snow.
There's a scene near the beginning of Beckett that made a huge impression on me. Now, ya gotta realize that some of my friends (pastor guys) like the movie because of what it says about the honor of God, or what it says about the weight of the Office changing men. But me, cold little me, chilly little me -- I vividly remember the scene where Thomas Beckett was making Henry bathe daily in cold water because it would help him not to be too soft, would toughen him up, would make him able to endure the cold.
I haven't jogged daily this past winter. I was colder this winter. When I started a daily discipline of jogging nearly four years ago, I started when it was warm and sunny and lovely outdoors. I kept going when it got cooler. I kept going when it was downright cold. I even went out and jogged when it was well below zero. I didn't get the chills so badly that winter. Nor the next year. Nor the next. This year, however, there was a wicked ice storm and snow and more ice and more snow and so forth. And then illness and house-hunting and being out of town and other reasons conspired to aid my lazy nature in finding excuses to avoid jogging. And I spent my winter feeling cold.
Similarly I find that those who do not have air-conditioning do not NEED air conditioning. Being in the AC for the bulk of your day (like, at work) makes your body less able to deal with the heat and humidity.
So I think those of us who feel cold all the time [you know who you are] might find it easier to bear if you/we force ourselves out into the winter weather daily for 15-30 minutes. Come to think of it, I wonder if that's why little kids don't mind the cold so much -- because their mothers toss them out the door to play in the snow.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Congregation Update
Today was the last day at Triune. Three people said a quick goodbye to me. One tried to give a fond farewell, but it was hard to hear her say that 17 years was a good long time to have been there. (She happens to be married to one of the guys who wanted Gary fired, but she has never spoken for or against the situation.) I thanked her for her good wishes but also responded that 17 years is a whole lot shorter than 50 which is when I thought we'd be leaving.
And then there were the others. Many didn't say goodbye or anything. Granted, they may have been uncomfortable and unsure of what to say. Then there was the small group that is distressed about all this, the ones who were so upset to find out this winter what's been going on with regard to the pastor's pay and the upkeep on the parsonage, the ones who love their pastor and have been genuinely interested in how the kids and I are doing with the move and the changes. Those were the difficult goodbyes.
Then one of the guys in the congregation asked us to go out for dinner with him and his wife and his mother-in-law. That was nice. Then back home [old home, that is] to load up the car with more boxes, and the rest of the day spent doing more unpacking and more deck-undoing (for the pool removal).
We keep the people in Rockford in our prayers as they go through changes in pastoral leadership, desiring to hang onto the liturgy and faithful preaching.
I would guess (but haven't asked to verify) that Gary picked out today's hymns before he knew that this would be his last Sunday. (He usually picks out hymns about 2-3 months in advance.) I thought it was extremely appropriate that the final words sung with him as pastor were:
To them the cross with all its shame,
with all its grace, is given.
Their name an everlasting name,
their joy the joy of heaven.
They suffer with their Lord below,
they reign with Him above,
their profit and their joy to know
the mystery of His love.
The cross He bore is life and health,
though shame and death to Him:
His people's hope,
His people's wealth,
their everlasting theme.
As long as the cross is their hope, their wealth, their everlasting theme, then all will be well with the people at Triune. And the people at Reformation.
And then there were the others. Many didn't say goodbye or anything. Granted, they may have been uncomfortable and unsure of what to say. Then there was the small group that is distressed about all this, the ones who were so upset to find out this winter what's been going on with regard to the pastor's pay and the upkeep on the parsonage, the ones who love their pastor and have been genuinely interested in how the kids and I are doing with the move and the changes. Those were the difficult goodbyes.
Then one of the guys in the congregation asked us to go out for dinner with him and his wife and his mother-in-law. That was nice. Then back home [old home, that is] to load up the car with more boxes, and the rest of the day spent doing more unpacking and more deck-undoing (for the pool removal).
We keep the people in Rockford in our prayers as they go through changes in pastoral leadership, desiring to hang onto the liturgy and faithful preaching.
I would guess (but haven't asked to verify) that Gary picked out today's hymns before he knew that this would be his last Sunday. (He usually picks out hymns about 2-3 months in advance.) I thought it was extremely appropriate that the final words sung with him as pastor were:
To them the cross with all its shame,
with all its grace, is given.
Their name an everlasting name,
their joy the joy of heaven.
They suffer with their Lord below,
they reign with Him above,
their profit and their joy to know
the mystery of His love.
The cross He bore is life and health,
though shame and death to Him:
His people's hope,
His people's wealth,
their everlasting theme.
As long as the cross is their hope, their wealth, their everlasting theme, then all will be well with the people at Triune. And the people at Reformation.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Cherish Your Pastor
Tell him "thank you." Pray for him. And listen when he talks.
A living wage is nice. Sharing produce from your garden or meat from your butchering is helpful. Cards on the anniversary of his ordination (or his arrival at your congregation) and Christmas gifts are nice too. But ultimately those things are not the "one thing needful."
What your pastor needs even more than your material support is your EARS. He can live with a miniscule salary if necessary. He can live just fine without the cards of thanks or the anniversary gifts (although those things may very well be an outward indication of a person who was receptive ears). Be there when he preaches -- Sunday and midweek. Come willingly to Bible class. Ask your pastor to give you Jesus, Jesus, and more Jesus. Do not complain when he smites you with the Law, but say "amen" and thank him for that too. And then be there to receive more Jesus, more absolution, more forgiveness.
Your pastor can live without a lot of things. But he cannot remain a pastor without hearers. Maybe he should. Jeremiah did. Elijah did. But your pastor is weak too; he's human; he can only sacrifice so much.
And if you haven't lived in a parsonage, you cannot know how very much your desire to receive your pastor's word enables him to continue to sacrifice so that you might have it. Don't take his ministry for granted; if it is spurned, it may not always be there. The more you receive it now with joy and a thankful heart, the more likely that ministry of God's grace will continue to be there for you.
A living wage is nice. Sharing produce from your garden or meat from your butchering is helpful. Cards on the anniversary of his ordination (or his arrival at your congregation) and Christmas gifts are nice too. But ultimately those things are not the "one thing needful."
What your pastor needs even more than your material support is your EARS. He can live with a miniscule salary if necessary. He can live just fine without the cards of thanks or the anniversary gifts (although those things may very well be an outward indication of a person who was receptive ears). Be there when he preaches -- Sunday and midweek. Come willingly to Bible class. Ask your pastor to give you Jesus, Jesus, and more Jesus. Do not complain when he smites you with the Law, but say "amen" and thank him for that too. And then be there to receive more Jesus, more absolution, more forgiveness.
Your pastor can live without a lot of things. But he cannot remain a pastor without hearers. Maybe he should. Jeremiah did. Elijah did. But your pastor is weak too; he's human; he can only sacrifice so much.
And if you haven't lived in a parsonage, you cannot know how very much your desire to receive your pastor's word enables him to continue to sacrifice so that you might have it. Don't take his ministry for granted; if it is spurned, it may not always be there. The more you receive it now with joy and a thankful heart, the more likely that ministry of God's grace will continue to be there for you.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Penne Rosa
Oh dear. I have a problem. We ate leftovers and fruit and sandwiches about 2:30 when Paul got off work. I had no clue what we'd be doing for dinner when Gary got home, but I was doing fine, feeling full, and not particularly desirous of another meal.
Paul, however, had an idea. When Jane took us to Noodles last week, Paul had penne rosa. He liked it. He really liked it. Today he started his job at Noodles. (I'm so glad we went to Noodles last week. That's how come we knew they were hiring. So multi-thanks to Jane!) Paul says he had penna rosa and stroganoff "under his nose" all day. Apparently those are two of the most popular dishes ... and I can see why! Paul thought we should whip up some penne rosa for supper. So he googled a few recipes, and we combined the ideas therein, and this is what we threw together ... and what we ate FAR too much of!! And that's my problem: I am totally stuffed.
Penne Rosa
Set pasta water to heat to a boil. Meanwhile,
Saute
1 onion, chopped
8-10 oz raw chicken, chopped into bite-size pieces
in a little olive oil
until onion begins to soften
and chicken is only slightly pink.
Add 4 small zucchini, chopped (about 16-20 oz)
Saute 3-5 minutes longer.
Add 1 lb of frozen chopped spinach.
Saute a couple of minutes longer.
Add
15 oz jar of garlic alfredo sauce
26 oz jar of spaghetti sauce
1 pint of cottage cheese
Water should be boiling now.
Add 1 tsp of salt and
1 tsp of red pepper flakes to water.
Boil 2# of penne noodles.
Serve sauce over drained noodles.
Try not to hurt each other as you're fighting over who gets the leftovers.
Cost was about $11-12. Served 6 of us with leftovers, so it's probably 10-12 normal servings. It doesn't look real pretty but it tastes awesome.
Paul, however, had an idea. When Jane took us to Noodles last week, Paul had penne rosa. He liked it. He really liked it. Today he started his job at Noodles. (I'm so glad we went to Noodles last week. That's how come we knew they were hiring. So multi-thanks to Jane!) Paul says he had penna rosa and stroganoff "under his nose" all day. Apparently those are two of the most popular dishes ... and I can see why! Paul thought we should whip up some penne rosa for supper. So he googled a few recipes, and we combined the ideas therein, and this is what we threw together ... and what we ate FAR too much of!! And that's my problem: I am totally stuffed.
Penne Rosa
Set pasta water to heat to a boil. Meanwhile,
Saute
1 onion, chopped
8-10 oz raw chicken, chopped into bite-size pieces
in a little olive oil
until onion begins to soften
and chicken is only slightly pink.
Add 4 small zucchini, chopped (about 16-20 oz)
Saute 3-5 minutes longer.
Add 1 lb of frozen chopped spinach.
Saute a couple of minutes longer.
Add
15 oz jar of garlic alfredo sauce
26 oz jar of spaghetti sauce
1 pint of cottage cheese
Water should be boiling now.
Add 1 tsp of salt and
1 tsp of red pepper flakes to water.
Boil 2# of penne noodles.
Serve sauce over drained noodles.
Try not to hurt each other as you're fighting over who gets the leftovers.
Cost was about $11-12. Served 6 of us with leftovers, so it's probably 10-12 normal servings. It doesn't look real pretty but it tastes awesome.
Freddy on Tape
We started reading another Freddy book recently. (Reading aloud good children's literature is one of my best defenses against depression. When the kids are all grown up, I think I'm going to have to volunteer in the schools, just so I can find somebody to read to!) Maggie wanted more Freddy than my feeble voice can provide, so she got an audio book and is eating it up.
It just crossed my mind. One of the manifestations of her vcfs is central auditory processing problems. She doesn't quite hear correctly. It's almost like she hears things backwards sometimes, and gets very easily confused with words like they're puzzle pieces strewn around. In fact, listening to books read aloud, or interpreting oral instructions, is supposed to be rather difficult for vcfs kids. And yet, Maggie LOVES listening to audio books over and over and over. She's going to completely wear out some Harry Potter audio books. In spite of the CAPD, she loves listening to the books. It's certainly easier for her than reading them to herself (something that she can do but doesn't enjoy very much, but which the "experts" said she'd never do).
The airwaves in this house are near-constantly filled with the sounds of Jim Dale reading about Harry and Ron and Hermione, or the sounds of Stockard Channing reading about Ramona and Beezus. It's nice to branch out to another series (although the reader of Freddy is not phenomenal as are the two previously mentioned readers). But for the mother of a vcfs kid, there's something to be pondered here about what's being learned from all this repetition of audio books, and what it might be a sign of.
Oh, by the way, if you have kids and you haven't discovered Walter Brooks's Freddy books, you need to find out about them. I'd never heard of them until Katie spent the summer at the Scotts' home, and they informed us of a Not-To-Be-Missed series. Freddy is definitely some of the best children's fiction available!
It just crossed my mind. One of the manifestations of her vcfs is central auditory processing problems. She doesn't quite hear correctly. It's almost like she hears things backwards sometimes, and gets very easily confused with words like they're puzzle pieces strewn around. In fact, listening to books read aloud, or interpreting oral instructions, is supposed to be rather difficult for vcfs kids. And yet, Maggie LOVES listening to audio books over and over and over. She's going to completely wear out some Harry Potter audio books. In spite of the CAPD, she loves listening to the books. It's certainly easier for her than reading them to herself (something that she can do but doesn't enjoy very much, but which the "experts" said she'd never do).
The airwaves in this house are near-constantly filled with the sounds of Jim Dale reading about Harry and Ron and Hermione, or the sounds of Stockard Channing reading about Ramona and Beezus. It's nice to branch out to another series (although the reader of Freddy is not phenomenal as are the two previously mentioned readers). But for the mother of a vcfs kid, there's something to be pondered here about what's being learned from all this repetition of audio books, and what it might be a sign of.
Oh, by the way, if you have kids and you haven't discovered Walter Brooks's Freddy books, you need to find out about them. I'd never heard of them until Katie spent the summer at the Scotts' home, and they informed us of a Not-To-Be-Missed series. Freddy is definitely some of the best children's fiction available!
No Stress
Andrew and I briefly tooled around the neighborhood -- not taking out any mailboxes -- yesterday afternoon. Today while the clothes were at the laundromat, we went in circles around the quiet neighborhood near church, in a downpour no less. I did the driving on the busy roads between home and the laundromat and church. But as we approached home with our baskets of clean clothes, I realized that I was not stressed. Not at all! I'd just spent 20-25 minutes in the car with a brand spankin' new driver, and there was no stress.
Andrew suggested that this is a sad commentary on just how stressful life is for me these days, that teaching driving is SO easy compared to the other four times I've done it.
I prefer to think that this is a happy commentary on what a good driver Andrew is. (No offense, R, Ph, K, P. It's just that he's got a different environment to do his initial driving in -- at 20 mph instead of 45 like y'all did.)
Andrew suggested that this is a sad commentary on just how stressful life is for me these days, that teaching driving is SO easy compared to the other four times I've done it.
I prefer to think that this is a happy commentary on what a good driver Andrew is. (No offense, R, Ph, K, P. It's just that he's got a different environment to do his initial driving in -- at 20 mph instead of 45 like y'all did.)
Too Much Computer
With moving there has been so much need to spend time sitting at the computer, reading. And that seems to draw a person away from Real Life and be kinda sorta depressing (in spite of the fact that I enjoy the computer time). There's setting up online accounts for banking and mortgage. There's finding new stores and directions to them. There's hunting up information for drivers ed and making appointments online for behind-the-wheel. There's all the research and study to learn how to fix the sump-pump discharge (and which fixes to avoid because of freezing temps in winter), and how to fix the pool, and how to fix the fridge and the stove and the water heater and all the other things that have been needing repairs over the last several months. There's researching water softener and water heater possibilities. I probably ought to ban myself from the computer for a few weeks, but then how would I get the information to do what needs done around here? The big problem is that self control seems to be the best answer to computer time ... and I know how that tends to go.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Polar Bears
Somebody brought a picture to Bible class this morning. Before prayers, it was passed around with the "explanation" that it was a scene deleted from Al Gore's movie. If you want a giggle, it's worth clicking on the link!
And do you remember the picture of the soldiers asking Sen Kerry for "help"? Well, check out a photo of needy polar bears (about 1/3 of the way down the page).
And do you remember the picture of the soldiers asking Sen Kerry for "help"? Well, check out a photo of needy polar bears (about 1/3 of the way down the page).
President Bush
Although I am not happy with the level of socialism promised to us at the 2004 Republican Convention (and too much of which has been enacted), there is one very good thing about our President. In the last 6+ years there have been no more terrorist attacks within our borders. And that's something that couldn't have been achieved by his opponent. Will we have the same level of security after November?
Family News
Paul starts a job tomorrow at Noodles & Co.
Andrew got his permit this afternoon and is ready to try driving around the block.
Andrew got his permit this afternoon and is ready to try driving around the block.
Scary
Between using our soil to grow ethanol and drought/war conditions in parts of the world, the price of food is going up. (Oh! You may have noticed that??) Some stores are now beginning to ration rice. Now I'm pondering what the neighbors would think if I grew wheat instead of grass. And would I know how to harvest and thresh it if I did?
Ethanol to prevent global warming -- when we're having news reports of an impending ice age. (Good grief! If that's true, we're just making things WORSE with the whole "fight global warming" trend!) Ethanol running up the cost of groceries here and causing starvation in poorer nations. WHY is it so hard for politicians to stand up for what's right and let the oil companies start drilling for all that oil in Alaska and North Dakota and the Gulf??
Ethanol to prevent global warming -- when we're having news reports of an impending ice age. (Good grief! If that's true, we're just making things WORSE with the whole "fight global warming" trend!) Ethanol running up the cost of groceries here and causing starvation in poorer nations. WHY is it so hard for politicians to stand up for what's right and let the oil companies start drilling for all that oil in Alaska and North Dakota and the Gulf??
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
What Is a Cow?
Andrew reported on his drivers ed class: the kids are supposed to remind their instructor, when they first go out driving, that he is supposed to show them a cow.
You see, people need to know what cattle are, so that they can recognize a cattle crossing. One of the students in the class reminded Mr Fischer that, uhhhh...., they live in Wisconsin [hello!!!] and they know what cows look like [duh!!!]. Mr Fischer agreed, but said that the government does not recognize that the kids know what a cow looks like, and it is incumbent upon him to teach them. So he will comply with the government's rule. But there are important things to teach a kid in drivers ed: braking, turning, driving defensively, checking your mirrors, etc. With all those silly distractions, the teacher isn't sure he can remember to point out cows. So he told the kids to be sure to remind him. Wouldn't want to neglect government regulations, now, would we?
I think the ideal response from the kids would be to get out in the country (after their first lesson or two of driving around and around and around a city block) and point to a cow and say, "Look, teacher, a camel!" or "Oh, Mr Fischer, there's an elephant!" And then he can TEACH them, "No, dear student with a head full of mush, that is a COW."
Just think. The same government is in charge of the entire public-education system. Makes ya wonder....
You see, people need to know what cattle are, so that they can recognize a cattle crossing. One of the students in the class reminded Mr Fischer that, uhhhh...., they live in Wisconsin [hello!!!] and they know what cows look like [duh!!!]. Mr Fischer agreed, but said that the government does not recognize that the kids know what a cow looks like, and it is incumbent upon him to teach them. So he will comply with the government's rule. But there are important things to teach a kid in drivers ed: braking, turning, driving defensively, checking your mirrors, etc. With all those silly distractions, the teacher isn't sure he can remember to point out cows. So he told the kids to be sure to remind him. Wouldn't want to neglect government regulations, now, would we?
I think the ideal response from the kids would be to get out in the country (after their first lesson or two of driving around and around and around a city block) and point to a cow and say, "Look, teacher, a camel!" or "Oh, Mr Fischer, there's an elephant!" And then he can TEACH them, "No, dear student with a head full of mush, that is a COW."
Just think. The same government is in charge of the entire public-education system. Makes ya wonder....
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Insurance
When we bought the house, we were given the option of buying insurance that would be essentially a home warranty. Because so many things had just been repaired and so many appliances were new, because the house was in such good shape, we figured we'd save several hundred dollars by not getting the insurance.
Bad move.
Lesson learned: No matter how great the house appears to be, ALWAYS get the warranty!
(In February we learned how to fix a stove. In April we have to learn how to fix a refrigerator.)
Bad move.
Lesson learned: No matter how great the house appears to be, ALWAYS get the warranty!
(In February we learned how to fix a stove. In April we have to learn how to fix a refrigerator.)
Nine and Ten
I always wondered why the differentiation between the ninth and tenth commandments. Why not just "You shall not covet"? Pastor explained last week that the ninth commandment covers your neighbor's stuff, and the tenth commandments covers the things that can have loyalty. Your neighbor's dog or your neighbor's wife loves your neighbor, but your neighbor's car does not love him. Once he explained it, it seemed like such an obvious distinction.
Fashion and Modesty
Okay, I'm standin' in the check-out line at the grocery store a few minutes ago. You know what's on the covers of those magazines: "bedroom" advice (and I don't mean about matching your curtains to your throw-pillows), and women in low-cut slinky dresses and too much make-up, and aliens impregnating earth-women, and everybody's scandal. So my eyes are scanning the covers, and [shock of shocks!] I see a pretty dress. I need a winter dress and haven't been able to find anything; for two years I've been trying to convince myself to find time to sew a nice warm long-sleeved pretty winter dress. And there, smack-dab on the cover of a magazine in the check-out line (!) was a picture of a pretty dress. My eyes scanned further: it was People magazine. My eyes scanned further: it was about the polygamist cult in Texas.
Does that say something frumpy about me that I like that dress?
Or does that say something about how far society has slid?
Does that say something frumpy about me that I like that dress?
Or does that say something about how far society has slid?
Monday, April 21, 2008
Ahhhhhh! Woodmans!
I guess this is what you call real customer loyalty: I am so happy to have gone grocery shopping today.
I love Woodmans!
I love Woodmans!
I love Woodmans!
(Laura, it was only 12 minutes from when I waved at Mt Zion as I drove past until I took the keys out of the ignition in the parking lot of Woodmans.)
Does this show how much a creature of habit I am? Or how unsettling moving is to me? Or is everybody like this? It just felt so soothing and comforting to be in a place where I knew where the food was and didn't have to hunt the aisles, where I recognized the little signs on the check-out screen, where I didn't have to stand and read labels and figure prices because I knew which brand and which size was the good deal. And I even saw familiar faces, with some of the folks from the Janesville store over here helping with the opening of the Oak Creek store. Oh! And the prices! At the moment, I no longer have this dread that we'll be lucky to see meat once a week for the next few years ... because I have a Woodmans to shop at! Not close, but do-able. And the bananas are 37 cents instead of 57. And the sausage is 89 cents instead of $2.59. And the mangoes are 50 cents instead of being a humongo "sale" item for "only" a dollar.
And joy of joys, they want to open a store in Menomonee Falls. Of course, that's in the distant future since they haven't found a suitable location yet, and they usually open stores at the rate of one every 30 months. But still, I've been asking at the main office about Waukesha or Pewaukee or the Falls, and I saw today on a news release that those cities are high on the priority list. Yeeehaw!
Rachel and Laura -- go down 94 past the airport. East on Rawson, aka County BB. Right/south at the light for Howell. Go a little bit past the light at Drexel, and it's on your right. South-side door is the 24-hour entrance.
This morning's grocery shopping was a little oasis of the familiar in a sea of newness, and it's wonnnnderful.
I love Woodmans!
I love Woodmans!
I love Woodmans!
(Laura, it was only 12 minutes from when I waved at Mt Zion as I drove past until I took the keys out of the ignition in the parking lot of Woodmans.)
Does this show how much a creature of habit I am? Or how unsettling moving is to me? Or is everybody like this? It just felt so soothing and comforting to be in a place where I knew where the food was and didn't have to hunt the aisles, where I recognized the little signs on the check-out screen, where I didn't have to stand and read labels and figure prices because I knew which brand and which size was the good deal. And I even saw familiar faces, with some of the folks from the Janesville store over here helping with the opening of the Oak Creek store. Oh! And the prices! At the moment, I no longer have this dread that we'll be lucky to see meat once a week for the next few years ... because I have a Woodmans to shop at! Not close, but do-able. And the bananas are 37 cents instead of 57. And the sausage is 89 cents instead of $2.59. And the mangoes are 50 cents instead of being a humongo "sale" item for "only" a dollar.
And joy of joys, they want to open a store in Menomonee Falls. Of course, that's in the distant future since they haven't found a suitable location yet, and they usually open stores at the rate of one every 30 months. But still, I've been asking at the main office about Waukesha or Pewaukee or the Falls, and I saw today on a news release that those cities are high on the priority list. Yeeehaw!
Rachel and Laura -- go down 94 past the airport. East on Rawson, aka County BB. Right/south at the light for Howell. Go a little bit past the light at Drexel, and it's on your right. South-side door is the 24-hour entrance.
This morning's grocery shopping was a little oasis of the familiar in a sea of newness, and it's wonnnnderful.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Today's Voters Meeting
The congregation agreed to give Gary a peaceful release from his call as pastor. Next Sunday is his last Sunday there. They will pay him for May because he has not taken his 2007 or 2008 vacation time. They agreed to swap us our stove for their fridge -- because we can't use a propane stove here, and they could use a spare, and we need more fridge space at the new house. So that was nice.
Gary said there were three woman at church who expressed their sorrow to be losing him.
The circuit counselor used to be pastor at Triune. So when the parsonage problems (particularly the serious flooding of the last few weeks) were raised at the voters meeting today, the circuit counselor could verify that there were mold and mildew problems and flooding in the basement way back when he was their pastor 25 years ago. In other words, it's not our family's fault that there are serious flaws in the parsonage. I'm glad the CC knew what it was like to live there and could thus deflect accusations of our "mistreating" the house.
We were told they do not have the money to pay April and May's salary as well as the last nine months of mileage reimbursement right now. They may have to pick away slowly at paying those obligations to us. I'm dumbfounded. Between Gary's pay-cuts and their not being responsible for health insurance premiums any more, they spent $5800 less for Jan-Apr this year than they spent last year. And yet they still don't have the money to pay 2007's mileage reimbursement. Where would the congregation be financially if they were still trying to support a full-time pastor???
Gary said there were three woman at church who expressed their sorrow to be losing him.
The circuit counselor used to be pastor at Triune. So when the parsonage problems (particularly the serious flooding of the last few weeks) were raised at the voters meeting today, the circuit counselor could verify that there were mold and mildew problems and flooding in the basement way back when he was their pastor 25 years ago. In other words, it's not our family's fault that there are serious flaws in the parsonage. I'm glad the CC knew what it was like to live there and could thus deflect accusations of our "mistreating" the house.
We were told they do not have the money to pay April and May's salary as well as the last nine months of mileage reimbursement right now. They may have to pick away slowly at paying those obligations to us. I'm dumbfounded. Between Gary's pay-cuts and their not being responsible for health insurance premiums any more, they spent $5800 less for Jan-Apr this year than they spent last year. And yet they still don't have the money to pay 2007's mileage reimbursement. Where would the congregation be financially if they were still trying to support a full-time pastor???
Pool Decision
It's going to have to go. The costs is just too high for us to get it up and running after the harsh winter. There is a lot of work ahead of us, removing and moving fencing, dismantling and disposing of the pool, doing something with the landscaping to fill in the hole, and changing the deck. Sorry to those of you who were looking forward to bringing the kids to play in the water!
"Honor Bound" at Gitmo
I seldom follow links because I've got enough to do without reading all the interesting articles available online, distracting me from my work. But Fay (a mother of soldiers) told us Loopers about a story in Sports Unlimited about the most exclusive golf club in the world: Guantanamo Bay. The story tells about the camp, the golf course, and the soldiers, and it is worth a read!
I saw the ritual repeated no fewer than 50 times. "Honor bound, sir." "Honor bound." I felt proud of my country, and ashamed of what some have said about the troops at Guantanamo Bay.
I saw the ritual repeated no fewer than 50 times. "Honor bound, sir." "Honor bound." I felt proud of my country, and ashamed of what some have said about the troops at Guantanamo Bay.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
StL Post-Dispatch Article
Just in case you haven't already seen it, the religion section of the St Louis newspaper has an article on LCMS and Issues, Etc.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Curly Girl
A couple of years ago, Rachel brought home the book Curly Girl for us to read to learn about Maggie's hair. Between Maggie's hair and my own curls that I've begun to develop since Maggie was born (curls? contagious? who knew?) I figured I should make another stab at learning how to care for curly hair. So I fetched the book from the library again.
One of the basic premises is that we need to embrace our curls and get over the whole thing with straightening them.
I used to hate curls. Not exactly like I had a problem with too many curls. I didn't need to iron my hair straight; those who did iron were going for the look I had naturally. My mom could curl my hair and hairspray it to death, and those curls might last an hour or two. I remember my mom and grandma trying to entice me to eat bread crusts: "They'll give you curls." Well! Talk about a way to discourage me from eating the crusts!
But now I like my curls. The major problem I'm having with the book's advice, though, is that we ought not brush our hair. The author acts like brushes are "straightening devices." When I wash my hair and air-dry it and have those nice loose ringlets, I love how it looks. But when a person goes out in the wind, or sleeps and then doesn't have time to rinse out her hair the next day, HOW do you untangle hair without a brush? Even if the brush straightens the curls, that'd be better than the tangled mess of not brushing.
I'm thinking maybe Maggie could use a wide-toothed pick in the shower with the water running through her hair. But that brings up the second problem with the book. What about the next day? We don't want to spend the hour or more per day wetting and air-drying our hair so that the curls are shown off to best advantage. Honestly, I'd rather use the brush and be frizzy than to take the time to primp. There's so much I like in this book, but there are practical problems to be solved here first.
One of the basic premises is that we need to embrace our curls and get over the whole thing with straightening them.
I used to hate curls. Not exactly like I had a problem with too many curls. I didn't need to iron my hair straight; those who did iron were going for the look I had naturally. My mom could curl my hair and hairspray it to death, and those curls might last an hour or two. I remember my mom and grandma trying to entice me to eat bread crusts: "They'll give you curls." Well! Talk about a way to discourage me from eating the crusts!
But now I like my curls. The major problem I'm having with the book's advice, though, is that we ought not brush our hair. The author acts like brushes are "straightening devices." When I wash my hair and air-dry it and have those nice loose ringlets, I love how it looks. But when a person goes out in the wind, or sleeps and then doesn't have time to rinse out her hair the next day, HOW do you untangle hair without a brush? Even if the brush straightens the curls, that'd be better than the tangled mess of not brushing.
I'm thinking maybe Maggie could use a wide-toothed pick in the shower with the water running through her hair. But that brings up the second problem with the book. What about the next day? We don't want to spend the hour or more per day wetting and air-drying our hair so that the curls are shown off to best advantage. Honestly, I'd rather use the brush and be frizzy than to take the time to primp. There's so much I like in this book, but there are practical problems to be solved here first.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Mail Forwarding
The last time we moved was prior to the post office's standardization of addresses. Last time we moved, we notified the local [small town] post office and then they forwarded whatever came to them. It's not working that way this time.
When we moved last time, there was only a church mailbox at the new place. We wanted our own mailbox with a separate address. What they used to do, once upon a time, when there were two homes at the same farm (like when the kids built a house next to Grandpa's) was to give the second house the designation "A" after the address. For example, there might be four rural routes for a city, and the boxes were lined up in order. If George was "Rural Route 3, Box 42" and his neighbor Betty was "Rural Route 3, Box 43" then when George's son grew up and built a house next door so as to live close enough to help with the farm, then George's son and daughter-in-law got "Rural Route 3, Box 42-A."
So that's what we did at church. Church was 1584 and we were 1584-A. However, when the post office did their fussy fussy standardization about a decade ago or so, somehow the post office changed our address. We ended up as "Apartment A" or some such thing. None of the people who wrote to us had the "correct" address according to the post office. But the mail came. We had a smart mail-lady and smart real-life people at our local post office.
Problem is, now none of the mail gets forwarded. We can't give our correct address to the post office because they don't recognize it as a real address. Nobody sends mail to the address which the post office recognizes as the so-called correct address. And the mail that comes to the church address for us cannot be forwarded. So what do other pastors do when their personal and family mail is delivered to the church address, and they must move?
The moral of the story is: make sure NOW that your mail is coming to the address that the post office says is your proper address.
When we moved last time, there was only a church mailbox at the new place. We wanted our own mailbox with a separate address. What they used to do, once upon a time, when there were two homes at the same farm (like when the kids built a house next to Grandpa's) was to give the second house the designation "A" after the address. For example, there might be four rural routes for a city, and the boxes were lined up in order. If George was "Rural Route 3, Box 42" and his neighbor Betty was "Rural Route 3, Box 43" then when George's son grew up and built a house next door so as to live close enough to help with the farm, then George's son and daughter-in-law got "Rural Route 3, Box 42-A."
So that's what we did at church. Church was 1584 and we were 1584-A. However, when the post office did their fussy fussy standardization about a decade ago or so, somehow the post office changed our address. We ended up as "Apartment A" or some such thing. None of the people who wrote to us had the "correct" address according to the post office. But the mail came. We had a smart mail-lady and smart real-life people at our local post office.
Problem is, now none of the mail gets forwarded. We can't give our correct address to the post office because they don't recognize it as a real address. Nobody sends mail to the address which the post office recognizes as the so-called correct address. And the mail that comes to the church address for us cannot be forwarded. So what do other pastors do when their personal and family mail is delivered to the church address, and they must move?
The moral of the story is: make sure NOW that your mail is coming to the address that the post office says is your proper address.
Ethanol and Environmentalist-Whackos Make Us Short on Grocery Money
If the grocery prices are getting to you too, check out Marilyn Moll's blog-page with frugal recipes and vegetarian dishes. I ever-so-slightly tweaked one of the recipes, and it's simmering on the stove now and smelling awesome.
Hat-tip: Kathy
Hat-tip: Kathy
Jeanne
Recently I've been blessed (and, boy, do I mean that word with all seriousness!) to be getting to know the widow of a faithful pastor. We've chatted on the phone several times, and she is such an encouragement! I can talk about a Bible verse, or a struggle, or the liturgy, or some other way to "talk theology." But the words of God's grace come so readily from her lips! She speaks of the hope within her. She tells about Jesus. She reminds me of the forgiveness of sins and the power therein. She hurts from physical pain and from missing her sweetheart, but there is no chafing in her voice, just reliance upon a loving heavenly Father. And what she says is not contrived, it's not religiosity, it's not forced. I'm sure she would disagree, but Jeanne is one example of what I see as the epitome of Christian womanhood. Someday, when I grow up, God grant that I can be even half as beautiful a pastor's wife as Jeanne and Erma are.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Today's Accomplishments
Gary managed to repair the antique barrister bookshelves that had been minorly broken since we got them.
He had meetings with two different bosses today, and made suggestions about how to fix the problem of his team being so overloaded that they can't keep up with the workload. His suggestions were not met with scorn but were received.
Andrew started drivers ed. "Mom, there's a lot more to pay attention to when you're driving than I realized!" Yup.
How can I do 8 loads of laundry, make dinner, jog, stew a chicken to get a head start on tomorrow's dinner, do a little schoolwork with the kids, make granola and kombucha, chauffeur a kid to class, get a load of stuff from the old house, and still feel like I didn't accomplish anything? My brain says I got a lot done, but there's so much on that to-do list that's just not getting crossed off, day after day.
I knew there was a problem with water in the basement at the parsonage. But oh man! When I got there today, somebody from church had ripped out the carpet and baseboards in the basement, put up dehumidifiers and fans, and there were still puddles. They really need to gut the basement and replace a lot of studs.
Loads of wind today, and the empty above-ground pool didn't blow away. Yet. Here's hoping we can hang onto it a little longer. Tomorrow is supposed to be cooler, so hopefully the high winds will die down.
He had meetings with two different bosses today, and made suggestions about how to fix the problem of his team being so overloaded that they can't keep up with the workload. His suggestions were not met with scorn but were received.
Andrew started drivers ed. "Mom, there's a lot more to pay attention to when you're driving than I realized!" Yup.
How can I do 8 loads of laundry, make dinner, jog, stew a chicken to get a head start on tomorrow's dinner, do a little schoolwork with the kids, make granola and kombucha, chauffeur a kid to class, get a load of stuff from the old house, and still feel like I didn't accomplish anything? My brain says I got a lot done, but there's so much on that to-do list that's just not getting crossed off, day after day.
I knew there was a problem with water in the basement at the parsonage. But oh man! When I got there today, somebody from church had ripped out the carpet and baseboards in the basement, put up dehumidifiers and fans, and there were still puddles. They really need to gut the basement and replace a lot of studs.
Loads of wind today, and the empty above-ground pool didn't blow away. Yet. Here's hoping we can hang onto it a little longer. Tomorrow is supposed to be cooler, so hopefully the high winds will die down.
Grandbaby
Ten weeks along, and that means the baby's feet are now like the "precious feet" pin, and the fingers are formed, and anybody who looked at a picture of the baby would HAVE to admit it's a lively baby and not a blob of tissue.
My Laundry Dream
This morning I put eight loads into the laundromat's machines on the way to Matins, picked them up on the way back home, and had them on the line (except for the socks and undies that went into the dryer) by 9:00. It gets done SO FAST that way.
It would be great to have a wringer washer or some other way to do many loads of laundry at home all at once. An old-fashioned wringer washer certainly takes more work than my Kenmore downstairs that works at the push of a button. But it uses less water and less soap, and a whole gob of laundry can be done all in one morning.
BUT... I'm spoiled with the regular new-fangled washers. And my mom reminded me once-upon-a-time (when I was longing for a wringer washer) that it's really hard to wash up one load right-quick simply because you need something cleaned NOW (like when the kids have uniforms that they need to wear to work). So the dream would be to have the regular wash machine and the regular dryer, as well as the wringer washer with loads of clotheslines. That'd be the best of both worlds!
It would be great to have a wringer washer or some other way to do many loads of laundry at home all at once. An old-fashioned wringer washer certainly takes more work than my Kenmore downstairs that works at the push of a button. But it uses less water and less soap, and a whole gob of laundry can be done all in one morning.
BUT... I'm spoiled with the regular new-fangled washers. And my mom reminded me once-upon-a-time (when I was longing for a wringer washer) that it's really hard to wash up one load right-quick simply because you need something cleaned NOW (like when the kids have uniforms that they need to wear to work). So the dream would be to have the regular wash machine and the regular dryer, as well as the wringer washer with loads of clotheslines. That'd be the best of both worlds!
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Sundays
Melody would be proud of y'all. Sitemeter tells me that my hits on Sundays are consistently lower than any other day of the week. In fact, if I look at the monthly chart, it's very cyclical. Six days of regular traffic, and then a huge dip, then six more days of regular traffic, and another huge drop.
A year ago I observed that blog-traffic on Sunday was nearly non-existent on Sunday morning and then much heavier in the evening. But now it's just lighter all day. I'm wondering why. Is there a movement to encourage Sunday as a day away from the screen?
A year ago I observed that blog-traffic on Sunday was nearly non-existent on Sunday morning and then much heavier in the evening. But now it's just lighter all day. I'm wondering why. Is there a movement to encourage Sunday as a day away from the screen?
Out of Mind
Out of sight, out of mind.
The new house is smaller. My desk is in my bedroom instead of in the living room and just around the corner from the kitchen.
I live in the kitchen. The living room is an overflow area of the kitchen, where we live part-time. But the kitchen is where I am. The bills that need to be paid cannot be on a desk in the corner of my bedroom, all the way down the hall. I'll forget them. The to-do list cannot be on my desk, in the corner of a room at the end of the hallway. I'll ignore it. The papers that need to be filed (or worse yet, dealt with and then filed) cannot be shoved off to my desk or to the file cabinet. They need to be smack-dab in front of my nose, in my way, so that they will be acted upon.
But when they are, I don't have counter space for bread-rising, kombucha-bottling, tortilla-making, or cantaloupe-slicing.
The obvious answer would be to deal with those papers papers papers immediately. Well, silly you! How could you think such an outlandish thing?!!? But even if I could solve the paper problem that way, some of those notes cannot be dealt with immediately, and need to hang around for a week as a reminder for what's coming up.
There must be a solution to this. I just don't know what it is.
The new house is smaller. My desk is in my bedroom instead of in the living room and just around the corner from the kitchen.
I live in the kitchen. The living room is an overflow area of the kitchen, where we live part-time. But the kitchen is where I am. The bills that need to be paid cannot be on a desk in the corner of my bedroom, all the way down the hall. I'll forget them. The to-do list cannot be on my desk, in the corner of a room at the end of the hallway. I'll ignore it. The papers that need to be filed (or worse yet, dealt with and then filed) cannot be shoved off to my desk or to the file cabinet. They need to be smack-dab in front of my nose, in my way, so that they will be acted upon.
But when they are, I don't have counter space for bread-rising, kombucha-bottling, tortilla-making, or cantaloupe-slicing.
The obvious answer would be to deal with those papers papers papers immediately. Well, silly you! How could you think such an outlandish thing?!!? But even if I could solve the paper problem that way, some of those notes cannot be dealt with immediately, and need to hang around for a week as a reminder for what's coming up.
There must be a solution to this. I just don't know what it is.
Anniversaries
Happy birthday to the kitties: Rosie, Hero, and Artemis.
A few of you may wish to know that it's Ken & Barb's 25th wedding anniversary today. They are "celebrating" by driving to South Dakota to be able to attend Ken's dad's funeral later this week. If you would, keep Lillian and the rest of the family in your prayers.
And tomorrow is a nice, round, zero-ending birthday for the esteemed Reverend Mother, my friend Erma.
A few of you may wish to know that it's Ken & Barb's 25th wedding anniversary today. They are "celebrating" by driving to South Dakota to be able to attend Ken's dad's funeral later this week. If you would, keep Lillian and the rest of the family in your prayers.
And tomorrow is a nice, round, zero-ending birthday for the esteemed Reverend Mother, my friend Erma.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Short News
Philip's looking for a job. His temp job is done, and he's hunting agaaaain.
Paul has pretty much decided on attending Bethany Lutheran College in Mankato. Long drive. But a whole lot of huge positives about the school. We still want to see the financial aid package. But he seems pretty sold on the place.
Jane came from Indiana to visit for a couple days and cheer me up. Her company sure does cheer a body! It's great to have her here!
The potlucks at our new church are awesome. Real food. And enough that everybody gets to eat. Nifty!
Paul has pretty much decided on attending Bethany Lutheran College in Mankato. Long drive. But a whole lot of huge positives about the school. We still want to see the financial aid package. But he seems pretty sold on the place.
Jane came from Indiana to visit for a couple days and cheer me up. Her company sure does cheer a body! It's great to have her here!
The potlucks at our new church are awesome. Real food. And enough that everybody gets to eat. Nifty!
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Odd Factoid for Isaiah
Although both parts were written by Isaiah, there seem to be two distinct sections to the book. The second section starts with chapter 40. That means that the first part has 39 chapters, just like the Old Testament has 39 books. And the second part of Isaiah has 27 chapters, just like the New Testament has 27 books. Now, as long as we ignore the apocrypha, I think that coincidence is pretty cool!
Jaw Clicks
For the interest of those with my mom's genes...
When my jaw locked up the other day, I noticed it was when I was chewing while holding the telephone receiver between my ear and my shoulder. (No, I wasn't talking with my mouth full. I was on hold for a long time.) It made me wonder if better, straighter posture while eating might reduce the clicking/locking problems just a little.
When my jaw locked up the other day, I noticed it was when I was chewing while holding the telephone receiver between my ear and my shoulder. (No, I wasn't talking with my mouth full. I was on hold for a long time.) It made me wonder if better, straighter posture while eating might reduce the clicking/locking problems just a little.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Sump Pump
What had been a perfectly dry basement no longer is. A new sump pump was installed a couple of months before we moved in, a sump pump that would not discharge clean ground-water into the septic system. Okay, that's a good thing. Problem is, the place for the discharge-water was not properly connected. I found it this morning, with the water just beginning to come in. After two trips to the hardware store, I managed to reduce the problem enough that it didn't keep worsening throughout the day. But when Gary went to the hardware store tonight to do a better fix, neither store had the necessary parts.
I cannot believe how many things I need to learn. And learn fast. Things that I don't have any background in. Things that matter and need to be fixed now. And while we're constantly trying to learn and fix, there's still a need to take care of laundry and meals and all the other regular-life stuff.
When you are teaching children, you have to allow them time to absorb what they're learning. Time for it to "stick" in their brains. Time for them to get it down pat before throwing more at them.
I want that absorption time too!! Old brains do not learn speedily!
I cannot believe how many things I need to learn. And learn fast. Things that I don't have any background in. Things that matter and need to be fixed now. And while we're constantly trying to learn and fix, there's still a need to take care of laundry and meals and all the other regular-life stuff.
When you are teaching children, you have to allow them time to absorb what they're learning. Time for it to "stick" in their brains. Time for them to get it down pat before throwing more at them.
I want that absorption time too!! Old brains do not learn speedily!
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Barb's Oatmeal Muffins
We had a gallon of milk go sour recently. So it's been pancakes and muffins for us!
Oatmeal Muffins
1 dozen
bake in greased muffin tins
400° for about 12 minutes
Soak 1 cup rolled oats in
1 cup sour milk
about 10-15 minutes.
Add 1 egg and
1/2 cup oil. Stir well.
In another bowl, combine
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup white flour
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp baking powder.
Mix dry ingredients into wet.
Stir just till moistened.
Bake.
Oatmeal Muffins
1 dozen
bake in greased muffin tins
400° for about 12 minutes
Soak 1 cup rolled oats in
1 cup sour milk
about 10-15 minutes.
Add 1 egg and
1/2 cup oil. Stir well.
In another bowl, combine
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup white flour
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp baking powder.
Mix dry ingredients into wet.
Stir just till moistened.
Bake.
Perfect Teeth
In this spate of recent 50's tv we've been watching, I noticed something. The people's teeth aren't perfect. They're reasonably straight. At least, for most of the actors and actresses. But there are spaces between teeth. There are even a few crooked teeth here and there. And it's okay.
It was a different world....
It was a different world....
Untucked
The fashion with the kids is to leave your shirt untucked. Sometimes it might look a little sloppy, but that's no big deal. The thing about it that really gets me, though, is how the shirts are layered so that the underneath-shirt has a longer tail than the outside-shirt. There are so many reasons why it should make sense, but in my old-fashioned brain, that is just NOT how it's done. If your sweatshirt is shorter than your t-shirt, then it seems to me the t-shirt should be tucked so that it doesn't hang out.
I'm losing weight. My pants are getting too loose. I have to tuck my shirts, if for no other reason, the shirt provides extra padding just to keep my pants up.
Ah ha! There's the answer to the untucked shirts that are so fashionable! Kids today CANNOT tuck their shirts ... because their pants are too tight. The skin-tight pants probably necessitated the fashion of untucked shirts! Mystery solved. :-)
I'm losing weight. My pants are getting too loose. I have to tuck my shirts, if for no other reason, the shirt provides extra padding just to keep my pants up.
Ah ha! There's the answer to the untucked shirts that are so fashionable! Kids today CANNOT tuck their shirts ... because their pants are too tight. The skin-tight pants probably necessitated the fashion of untucked shirts! Mystery solved. :-)
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
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.
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....
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.
Monday, April 07, 2008
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?
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?
Sunday, April 06, 2008
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.
Saturday, April 05, 2008
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.
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.
Friday, April 04, 2008
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.
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.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
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.
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.
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!
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!
Monday, March 31, 2008
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.
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.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
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."
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.
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.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
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?
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.
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.
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.
Friday, March 28, 2008
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.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
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.
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.
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.
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