I repented today
With a silent act of minor motions,
Mundane to any onlooker--
But internally I was prostrate,
Agreeing with God
That I am covetous,
Indignant that others thrive
Where I have dwindled.
Despising the person
That Envy twists me into,
I joined the celebration of another,
Repenting as I will again and again
Because Jealousy is a wily grappler
Who trips and pins, gorging on Pride
Of which I have a glutton's larder*.
*larder=pantry
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
The Art of Crying Uncle
Although perseverance is often touted as a virtue, I've learned that sometimes the best option is to:
Simply.
Give.
Up.
Case in point--a while back I was dismayed to see this...
...super huge bleach spot marring the moss green luxuriance of one of my Pima cotton hand towels.
I suspected it was the result of Tobias wiping his hands after applying Clearasil to his face. I informed him of such. He assured me that he was certain he was not the guilty party.
My point was proven when I smeared some of the ointment onto the corner of the already fouled towel. Voila! Discoloration.
Not wanting any of my other towels to suffer the same fate, I told him he needed to wash his hands with soap after using the acne cream.
After I saw that a second towel had fallen victim to the same bleaching fate as the first...
...I realized that the medication is such potent stuff that soap can't counteract it. (And yes, I'm confident he was using soap.)
Thus, Plan B was birthed: I installed a roll of paper towels in the bathroom and instructed him to dry his hands on those.
Solved?
Nyet.
He kept forgetting and absentmindedly drying the fingers-o'-destruction on the forbidden cloths. Even a kitchen towel became blighted, proving that the plague was spreading from room to room!
Plan C needed to be be effectual. The appearance of my bathroom was at stake! Therefore, I knew I had to hit him where it hurts...
...right in the wallet.
I bought four new towels (cheap ones this time) and told him that if I saw a bleach blot on any one of them he'd have to pay me back for the ruined rag. Certainly to a kid who only earns a few dollars each week for allowance, the threat of losing that money would cause something in his brain to click, enabling him to remember, remember, remember. I mean, who wants to pay a "towel ruination fee"?
Within days he had "purchased" his first towel. Soon after, he had acquired a pair. By the third unfortunate "fouling", something clicked in my brain.
While pondering my situation, I realized that:
A) His tarnishing of towels was not born out of mischief nor defiance. He's simply a kid whose brain won't be fully formed for another ten years.
B) Although I could ban Clearasil and other similar products from our household, therefore safeguarding all future towels, I didn't want him to suffer the physical and emotional pain that acne can cause.
C) He's only going to be at home with us for a few more years and I want him to remember me as a gracious mom (who recognizes she, too, is prone to screwing things up at times) instead of as a towel nazi.
So...
...when you come to my house and see this...
...don't think of it as a hideous bathroom accessory (like I do every time I dry my hands).
Rather, regard it as an emblem of my love and appreciation for this guy:
I think I have one remaining unblemished towel stuck way in the back of my closet, but it won't be making it's debut on the towel ring until after Sir Bleachalot moves out.
Simply.
Give.
Up.
Case in point--a while back I was dismayed to see this...
...super huge bleach spot marring the moss green luxuriance of one of my Pima cotton hand towels.I suspected it was the result of Tobias wiping his hands after applying Clearasil to his face. I informed him of such. He assured me that he was certain he was not the guilty party.
My point was proven when I smeared some of the ointment onto the corner of the already fouled towel. Voila! Discoloration.
Not wanting any of my other towels to suffer the same fate, I told him he needed to wash his hands with soap after using the acne cream.
After I saw that a second towel had fallen victim to the same bleaching fate as the first...
...I realized that the medication is such potent stuff that soap can't counteract it. (And yes, I'm confident he was using soap.)
Thus, Plan B was birthed: I installed a roll of paper towels in the bathroom and instructed him to dry his hands on those.
Solved?
Nyet.
He kept forgetting and absentmindedly drying the fingers-o'-destruction on the forbidden cloths. Even a kitchen towel became blighted, proving that the plague was spreading from room to room!
Plan C needed to be be effectual. The appearance of my bathroom was at stake! Therefore, I knew I had to hit him where it hurts...
...right in the wallet.
I bought four new towels (cheap ones this time) and told him that if I saw a bleach blot on any one of them he'd have to pay me back for the ruined rag. Certainly to a kid who only earns a few dollars each week for allowance, the threat of losing that money would cause something in his brain to click, enabling him to remember, remember, remember. I mean, who wants to pay a "towel ruination fee"?
Within days he had "purchased" his first towel. Soon after, he had acquired a pair. By the third unfortunate "fouling", something clicked in my brain.
While pondering my situation, I realized that:
A) His tarnishing of towels was not born out of mischief nor defiance. He's simply a kid whose brain won't be fully formed for another ten years.
B) Although I could ban Clearasil and other similar products from our household, therefore safeguarding all future towels, I didn't want him to suffer the physical and emotional pain that acne can cause.
C) He's only going to be at home with us for a few more years and I want him to remember me as a gracious mom (who recognizes she, too, is prone to screwing things up at times) instead of as a towel nazi.
So...
...when you come to my house and see this...
...don't think of it as a hideous bathroom accessory (like I do every time I dry my hands).
Rather, regard it as an emblem of my love and appreciation for this guy:
I think I have one remaining unblemished towel stuck way in the back of my closet, but it won't be making it's debut on the towel ring until after Sir Bleachalot moves out.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Tea, Anyone?
There's still time to come join the Mad Hatter's tea party if you are so inclined.
(Yes, I know he looks like he's a drummer for Marilyn Manson's band, but he's just a harmlessly insane milliner, okay?)
Here he is with the March Hare:
And here is the delightfully doltish Tweedle Dee in all of her beach-ballish glory:
*hee hee hee*
(Yes, I know he looks like he's a drummer for Marilyn Manson's band, but he's just a harmlessly insane milliner, okay?)
Here he is with the March Hare:
And here is the delightfully doltish Tweedle Dee in all of her beach-ballish glory:
*hee hee hee*
Monday, August 9, 2010
Happily, Yet With Discretion
Have you ever been so pleased with some wonderful thing that has occurred in your life that you were hesitant to speak of it?
I'm experiencing that right now.
My hesitance isn't born out of an unwillingness to share, but rather out of a desire to not be interpreted as a loud mouthed braggart, hollering, "Look at me! Aren't I lucky? Don't you wish this happened to you???"
Ick.
However, just as I am happy for others when their cups runneth over (or try to be at least!), I trust the character and intentions of my friends who come here to see what my brain has lately spewed onto the Internet. Therefore, I will share with you our latest wonderment.
Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you...
...our 2010 vacation to...
...the Great Northwest!
("Again?" you ask. I couldn't help myself, okay? I REALLY like it there.)
I'm experiencing that right now.
My hesitance isn't born out of an unwillingness to share, but rather out of a desire to not be interpreted as a loud mouthed braggart, hollering, "Look at me! Aren't I lucky? Don't you wish this happened to you???"
Ick.
However, just as I am happy for others when their cups runneth over (or try to be at least!), I trust the character and intentions of my friends who come here to see what my brain has lately spewed onto the Internet. Therefore, I will share with you our latest wonderment.
Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you...
...our 2010 vacation to...
...the Great Northwest!
("Again?" you ask. I couldn't help myself, okay? I REALLY like it there.)
Day 1
All packed up and ready to pull out of the garage:
The first day was a very weird start for a vacation.
We left in the afternoon. I hate leaving on a trip first thing in the morning. That always ensures that I will not sleep at all the night before because I'm thinking about making sure I pack my stupid toothbrush once I get up.
Our first stop was about 45 minutes away where we attended the first birthday celebration of a very adorable little girl.
Evelynn really knows how to party:
Here she is, pre-cake-wrestling with her parents, Cupcake Mama and Papa:
Isn't she sweet?
Afterward, we hopped back in the car and drove another 45 minutes to where we promptly checked into a motel.
This confused my family to no end since we had hardly traveled at all and it was still fairly early.
"It'll all make sense eventually," I told them.
(What I didn't tell them was that we needed to be somewhere at 5:30 the next morning and since I found a motel for $60 (!) that was located only 15 minutes from our destination, I had to take it. If we'd stayed at home, we would have had to get up at 2:30 in the morning and drive for two hours, hoping the entire time that we wouldn't be late.)
Hee hee hee...
The first day was a very weird start for a vacation.We left in the afternoon. I hate leaving on a trip first thing in the morning. That always ensures that I will not sleep at all the night before because I'm thinking about making sure I pack my stupid toothbrush once I get up.
Our first stop was about 45 minutes away where we attended the first birthday celebration of a very adorable little girl.
Evelynn really knows how to party:
Here she is, pre-cake-wrestling with her parents, Cupcake Mama and Papa:
Isn't she sweet?
Afterward, we hopped back in the car and drove another 45 minutes to where we promptly checked into a motel.
This confused my family to no end since we had hardly traveled at all and it was still fairly early.
"It'll all make sense eventually," I told them.
(What I didn't tell them was that we needed to be somewhere at 5:30 the next morning and since I found a motel for $60 (!) that was located only 15 minutes from our destination, I had to take it. If we'd stayed at home, we would have had to get up at 2:30 in the morning and drive for two hours, hoping the entire time that we wouldn't be late.)
Hee hee hee...
Day 2
4:00 AM found me rousing my crew from a surprising slumber considering the trampoline-like surface of our motel beds. (Remember, I got the room for $60.)
To the utter surprise of my three most preciouses, we soon found ourselves seated on one of these:
(Can you see the plane's shadow on the cloud in the above pic?)
A little screen in front of each of us indoctrinated us on the virtues of the Total Pillow.
(It actually did seem quite ergonomic in a dorky kind of way.)
It wasn't long before we touched down in Portland and found ourselves at the lovely home of Elisabeth and Jon and their lively brood.
While the guys struck out to play some disc golf and the littlest ones napped, Delaney, Ava and I walked to a cute little ice cream parlor...
...where unbeknownst to us, much excitement awaited in the form of a bit of blood loss and the knowledge that the tooth fairy would soon be visiting.
We went to dinner at:
Some Portlandian genius decided to purchase an abandoned public school and turn it into several restaurants, a movie theater and some other draws for the populace.
Very cool and the food was good, too.
Are those tater tots I see? (Well, it is a former school after all.)
Gimme somma your tots!
With full stomachs, we bid our friends adieu and headed northwest for Hoquiam, Washington.
Day 3
Day 3 found us rising 6:00ish because we had a long distance to go and I had a lot planned for along the way.
We prudently familiarized ourselves with the route of escape from any looming tsunamis.
You know you're in a beautiful place when these are the roadside weeds:
Our pleasant drive took us past this sign:
Soon we were parking at Ruby Beach which ended up being Delaney's favorite place of the whole vacation.
Delaney put her birthday camera to very good use:
In fact, at the trip's end, she had snapped over 680 photos! I'd like to thank her for allowing me to use a bunch of her great shots throughout the blog posts you see before you.
Sadly, we had to get going, but it wasn't long before we passed this sign:
There are very few actual rain forests in the U.S. This one gets 12 to 14 feet of rain each year!
Jeff with the "J" tree:
Even Tobias was smiling:
(Almost.)
We were running out of time 'cause we had a ferry to catch, so we had to skip driving up Hurricane Ridge.
More roadside weeds:
A family friend lives nearby, so we dined with him.
Art is a nice guy who entertained us with stories of climbing New England's power lines during ice storms. I'll bet his family was happy when he retired from that job!
Then we were off to Port Townsend where we learned the 6:45 PM ferry was full, as was the one which left at 8:30 PM.
You're supposed to make reservations? Who knew? In my defense, I did a lot of research in the weeks leading up to our trip and I must say, the Washington State Ferry website was not very user-friendly.
Our next shot at crossing to Whidbey Island would be at 6:30 AM the next day. I was told that if we got to the terminal at 5:45 AM then we'd be pretty likely to get a spot on the ferry. Oh, goody.
So what's a family of out-of-staters to do?
Why, get a room for the night (that was not allotted for in the vacation budget), of course...
...and then explore Port Townsend, an old town full of beautiful buildings like this one:
See all the little birds that landed so artistically in the photo below?
We prudently familiarized ourselves with the route of escape from any looming tsunamis.
You know you're in a beautiful place when these are the roadside weeds:
Our pleasant drive took us past this sign:
Soon we were parking at Ruby Beach which ended up being Delaney's favorite place of the whole vacation.
Delaney put her birthday camera to very good use:
In fact, at the trip's end, she had snapped over 680 photos! I'd like to thank her for allowing me to use a bunch of her great shots throughout the blog posts you see before you.Sadly, we had to get going, but it wasn't long before we passed this sign:
There are very few actual rain forests in the U.S. This one gets 12 to 14 feet of rain each year!
Jeff with the "J" tree:
Even Tobias was smiling:
(Almost.)We were running out of time 'cause we had a ferry to catch, so we had to skip driving up Hurricane Ridge.
More roadside weeds:
A family friend lives nearby, so we dined with him.
Art is a nice guy who entertained us with stories of climbing New England's power lines during ice storms. I'll bet his family was happy when he retired from that job!
Then we were off to Port Townsend where we learned the 6:45 PM ferry was full, as was the one which left at 8:30 PM.
You're supposed to make reservations? Who knew? In my defense, I did a lot of research in the weeks leading up to our trip and I must say, the Washington State Ferry website was not very user-friendly.
Our next shot at crossing to Whidbey Island would be at 6:30 AM the next day. I was told that if we got to the terminal at 5:45 AM then we'd be pretty likely to get a spot on the ferry. Oh, goody.
So what's a family of out-of-staters to do?
Why, get a room for the night (that was not allotted for in the vacation budget), of course...
...and then explore Port Townsend, an old town full of beautiful buildings like this one:
See all the little birds that landed so artistically in the photo below?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)