Plumbing

A letter arrived in the mail today inviting me to take part in a medical study. And to recommend it to my friends. All I need to do is visit a web site specified in the letter to be part of ending bladder leakage with sneezing, coughing, laughing, etc. Really?! I'm kind of wondering if The Boy or Middle Child's tech savvy friends have found a brilliant gag to pull on their parents. Anybody else get one of these?

Monday

Today started out so well. Then it went all Monday. The mister and I dropped off kiddies at their assorted schools, and we knocked out today's "Must Do" errands first thing. There was even time to drop in at Big Box to schedule the measurement of our currently busted back door for replacement purposes. How very un-Monday.
Inside the doors of Big Box stood our dream refrigerator in the oddball looks-like-stainless-but-is-less-likely-to-dent-or-show-fingerprints finish marked down by 1/3. We decided to jump on the opportunity to finish out our kitchen with a fridge to match the other appliances. Upon returning home, measurements to double-check the space for the new machine reveal that it is 1/4" too tall for the opening. How very Monday.
Despite the mister's offer to cut the cabinet facing (!) to allow for the new unit, I declared that the fridge which required a saw to touch the cabinetry was not going to do. Taking the call-a-friend option, I discovered that her husband had in fact cut a larger opening in their cabinet facing but with the knowledge that the cabinets will have to be replaced. This information clarified that a return was the only option that suited this household. In a reassuring return to un-Monday bonuses, Friend's husband will be tutoring Middle Child in math next Saturday to help her make up for the information missed on her recent sick days. The call wasn't a total loss.
As soon as I hung up the phone, it rang again. Middle Child's eyes are swollen almost shut, red, and she has a 99.2 temp says the school nurse. Could I bring her contact case and solution to school? Sure, it's on the way to Big Box anyway. Except that Middle Child needs to go to the doctor before she puts in fresh contacts in case of an infection. The first available appointment coincides with her Math class. Of course. And her back-up eyeglasses are broken. Of course.
All these little hassles have yet to put a dent in the morning's initial pleasure that today's planned errands are complete. Because I have plenty of time to check off the new additions to the To Do List.

Crusty

Oh, my. In lieu of dinner tonight, there was bread and water at my table. A fresh, hot loaf of bread straight out of the oven is hardly a sign of deprivation. It would have been a feast fit for a king with only the bread, but a bit of jam and cheese accompanied the crusty loaf. Which is what made it a feast fit for a Mama. Mmmhmm. With a definite emphasis on the "Mmmm!"

Women's Ministry

This morning Walker and I were completing our trek when I spied a neighbor coming along the sidewalk. Walker headed off, but I decided to walk along with Neighbor G. We talked of the wonders of clay soil and shifting foundations, and eventually ended up in front of my house again. We chatted about the various news of the day with Next-door Neighbor who happened to be in the front yard as we strolled up, and then the ladies headed off to their own homes.
Flash forward to dinner time tonight, and our family was sitting in a neighborhood restaurant. Who should come through the door? Next-door Neighbor--- and the hostess was seating her alone at the table next to us. Until we pulled up a chair and sent in her expedited order with our server. We had a wonderful meal with even better conversation thanks to our surprise guest.
After we completed our meal, I saw a woman as we were leaving who looked familiar. My favorite coffee buddy flew out of state this week for a family emergency, and the mystery woman was none other than out-of-state's mother-in-law. We shared a greeting, and a laugh about Grandma's absolutely fabulous four-year-old granddaughters who had spent the previous night having a Pajama Party at her house. Which meant she was not in any mood to cook for herself, but was definitely looking forward to bedtime.
Returning home, I received a message about a women's event at church tomorrow which I am not attending. Because I am not really comfortable talking with the other ladies at women's ministry events. Except for a reunion of just such ladies coming up in a few weeks. Besides, I didn't have much time to devote to thinking about that statement because I needed to call another friend about our upcoming Thanksgiving plans. In the course of our conversation, I was instructed to call that friend's mother tomorrow while I am avoiding the uncomfortable setting in which I would be expected to talk to other women. Ah, the irony is rich today.

Vessel

Hmmm. In 2 Corinthians chapter 4, there are several words that have caught my eye this morning. In verses 6 and 7, "For God, who said Light shall shine out of darkness," is the One who has shone in our hearts to give the Light of the glory of the knowledge of God in the face of Christ. 7 But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, so that the surpassing greatness of the power will be of God and not from ourselves;" Oh. This imperfect body is simply the container into which the gospel has been poured. I would never think to pour a fine, valuable wine into a pitcher one of the children formed out of mud from the back yard, but that is precisely what God has done in filling my imperfect self with Christ. Because a fine vessel would be a thing of beauty regardless of what it contained, but the flawed container filled with treasures leaves one with awe for what is within without glorifying the humble container.
Better still, followers of Christ are analogous to pumpkins and jack-o-lanterns. Seeds are planted and tended. The harvest comes, and choice pumpkins make their way market. Select pumpkins are hollowed out, and a light placed inside. The gourd is simply a shell lit up from within that can illuminate a dark place or serve as a beacon in the night. I'm a jack-o-lantern. How about you?

Strength in Numbers

Our family is in counseling, and I feel for our therapist. Yesterday, she had excellent intentions of helping us all to recognize that we each bring strengths to our family relationship. Our first task was to use a series of clues to identify certain information. We were each given a strip of paper with a clue, but we could only resolve the questions with the information on our individual strips of paper. We had three minutes to work out the resolution. It took me all of two seconds to declare that we were not going to be able to answer the questions with the limited information available on our individual paper slips.
Bonus points awarded for recognizing that we need to communicate with one another and pool our individual information (a.k.a. strengths) to reach the solution led to instructions to use a single sheet of paper and refrain from verbal communication while sharing our clues to come up with a corporate solution. Erin informed the therapist that she, "used to sign because she couldn't talk." I explained that we used sign due to Erin's initial speech delays to force her to use some form of language in communicating rather than meeting her needs in response to gestures or non-speech sounds. We were then given permission to sign, but Erin explained that we don't use it anymore and don't remember it.
Meanwhile, Don and Katie had developed a chart to indicate the three categories of information we were supposed to be gleaning from our clues. Erin moved to the other side of the table and began writing on a second sheet of paper. I wrote on Don and Katie's paper a question, "How much do we care about [pursuing the information]?" because I really could not have cared less about the exercise at that point, and Erin was drawing on her separate sheet of paper while ignoring reminders to share a single sheet of paper. At the end of the 3 minutes, Don and Katie pointed out that not all the information was in the clues. Our therapist discovered that there were two essential elements missing, and we could not have solved the puzzle. She also mentioned that she had a migraine.
She sat across from us in a chair, and stated that she liked the way we all crowded together on the sofa. This brought to my mind the image of us lined up in a shooting gallery, but she seemed to see it as a positive sign that we are all together in our seating preferences. Okie-dokie. She asked us to identify our strengths, and then to identify each other's strengths. It was a little concerning when Katie identified Erin's primary strength as being, "an Evil Genius" and Erin named her own primary strength as being, "good at manipulating others". She then answered the therapist's queries to show that she did in fact understand the meaning of the word "manipulation" and that she had been "living in a box" in response to Dad's statement that she is an "out of the box" thinker. *sigh*
We were running over on time by this point, and our therapist's head was likely about to explode. Still, we explained that the microwave had died the preceding week, and the replacement came in a big box. The big box was now situated in the middle of the living room where our youngest child climbs inside to watch television through a hole in the end pointed toward the t.v. We are unlikely to hear a recommendation to discontinue therapy anytime soon.

The Replacements

Walker and I are not so much with the walking today. We were all about the sitting and partaking of coffee and the Evil Empire's pumpkin cream cheese muffins. We'll be similarly sedentary in our meetings until the Good Doctor clears me for walking. My follow-up appointment is tomorrow, and I expect to be traipsing about the mean suburban streets sooner rather than later. Good Doctor expects to do partial replacements of both knees in a time frame now set at six months to two years.
In other news, the microwave proved that, "They don't make 'em like they used to..." applies to more than my knees by dying last Thursday night. Despite my drugged, post-operative state, I still wanted to be part of the decision-making process of choosing the replacement. Stiff-legged with giant bandages causing my legs to look more Michelin Man than Mom, I teetered through the appliances with my mister while considering the available options. After the combined excitement of the microwave's demise and searching out the model that matches the range, I was worn out. That led to my conveniently sleeping through the mister's removal of the broken unit and installation of the shiny new one. Which was likely beneficial to both of our mental health.

Bees Knees

Out the door for the surgery center. Here's hoping the M.D. will clean up the mess I call knees so I can get back to wearing out those walking shoes!

Dry Roast

This morning saw a coffee date with a friend who packed up her family and headed to the hills to escape the suburban life only to discover God had other plans placing her temporarily back in the very same burb. It's been a pleasure to know she is transplanted here in Pleasant Suburb. (It doesn't hurt that she is usually accompanied by a cup of java and some sort of treat when we meet up.) I never know where conversations with her will go, but I'm usually willing to go along. Today we plunged into some topics not frequently found in standard conversation.
We tumbled into a verbal chasm of sin and sacrifice. That valley is one of dry bones, but I'm not too sure if I could fathom its depths. (Or if I really want to.) Christ came to love the unlovable. And the very next thought was that Christ came as a sacrifice. What an unpalatable thought that I (you? we?) might be called on to sacrifice for an undesirable someone else's benefit. And in some meaningful, personal way. Not just giving up a little cash, some possessions, or time, but something deeply rooted in the most hidden depths of the soul.
Because I claim to seek to become more Christ-like. And that means sacrifice. Am I ready to begin to apply that idea to the sorts of things I find most repulsive, or am I still holding tightly to my own belief in being somehow more upright than another because in my mind their sin or crime is somehow worse than my own?
I need another cup of coffee.

Soup

Overheard at lunch today:
(Warning: mild gross-out ahead.)

M: "Do you like to dunk your sandwich in the soup?"
E: "I don't like the soup."
M: "Do you hate it? I love it."

(Note: E is eating all the noodles, chicken, etc. from the soup. M is eating the broth and floating bits of herbs. They are a perfect soup-eating pair.)

M: "If you dunk the sandwich in your soup it tastes like licking a boo-boo."

(M is served another grilled cheese. It's too hot to eat, so she must be content with using her spoon. Thinking the adults are not watching, M attempts to breathe in the soup from off the spoon.)

Mom Intervention: If you suck that soup up your nose it will burn like crazy.
E: Once, my sister sucked her soda right up her nose through a straw.
M, whispering: She must be a bad influence.
E: No. She just misunderstood. I meant she should use her mouth. It did burn. A lot.

I wonder if they still need lunchroom monitors over at Pleasant Suburban Elementary?

Over

It's a weekend for overnights. Katie is gone for a weekend at camp with her youth group. She'll come home tired, but with a million anecdotes and stories to relate in a pre-teen exhalation of jumbled words, giggles, sighs, and eye-rolling. Her absence means there was an empty bed in the girls' room, so Erin invited a friend to spend the night.
Erin's friend does not have a cat. Erin's friend really likes cats. Really, really likes cats. Our Bad Bella is relatively tolerant of our children. Their friends? Well, not so much. The cat's looking a little frazzled this morning. She finally made a somewhat wild-eyed escape (paws scrabbling for purchase on the smooth floors while little hands grasped the writhing furry midsection with an excess of enthusiasm) when the mister appeared with donuts to distract Bella's captors.
I think the cat will be the most thrilled to see the tail end of Erin's overnight guest and the return of Kate from overnight camp. She's definitely over the current arrangement.

Blogher

On a day in the somewhat distant past, I attended a women's convention. Imagine my surprise to discover a Blogher sitting a row behind me when the programming convened. (I recognized her from her online profile. I could practically hear Middle Child's voice in my head saying, "Stalker!") Anticipating the break after the first session, I intended to introduce myself. Until I found myself missing large portions of the program because the Blogher that I happened to run across was talking and giggling in the seat behind me throughout the presentation.
Rather than an introduction at the intermission, it was time to attempt to find a new seating arrangement. I was irritated, but my companion was threatening to light up Bigmouth Blogher with a cell phone spotlight so we could see what all the noise was about in Row 8. What came across as bubbly and fun in a blog turned out to be incredibly rude in public. Without an introduction, we moved our seats, and after returning home I removed my follower status.