Goal Post

Skater Girl was asked to come up with some goals for the remainder of the year. She sat at the kitchen table writing out her bullet points last night, but abandoned the task to put away laundry. The laundry led her to the pantry for a snack. Then she was distracted by the cat. Finally, it was bedtime. With her tucked into bed, I looked over the list.

The change in handwriting does not indicate a psychotic break on the part of Skater Girl. Her daddy just added his suggestions to the list. Skater Girl drew the line this morning along with an unpleasant notation for her sister to resist adding to the list. She sat muttering while recreating the list of goals sans ninjas and kitten rescue. It seemed like a good idea to point out that the additions were in the Mister's handwriting before things went any further. This list will not be presented to the skate coaches, but they would probably appreciate it.

Good News

Good News:
1. I'm not pregnant. (I know you were sweatin' that one.)
2. Tornadoes failed to carry off our house, and the termites have yet to take it down.

Speaking of good news, Sunday was Easter. We dressed up, went to church, and then crept around the side of the local nursery to take pictures with the daughters muttering about, "... getting busted," for being there when the business was closed. We were in the parking lot- hardly breaking and entering. We were not arrested, or even interviewed, for trespassing though there were two patrol cars in the very next parking lot. (Living dangerously!) Still, in keeping with the times, we should definitely post the pictures of our illicit visit online.

Easter Dress... and to the back left... stacks of mulch.

I see the woman she is becoming so clearly in this image.

This is what the mister and Perfect did while the assorted females were dress shopping.

Okay, so the last one wasn't part of our wild (*cough*) photo shoot at the nursery. It also has nothing to do with Redemption, Easter, or Jesus. Oh, wait... the ladies were shopping for Easter dresses. So, there you go.

Waiting

Dr. Seuss's Oh, the Places You'll Go!, refers to Waiting Places. (One does tend to wind up there from time to time.) Despite a range of dates, we're stalled in one such Waiting Place for answers as to when The Boy might be home.  The insurance company required a switch to their in-house pharmacy for I.V. medication infusions this year, and January saw a four day wait for the administration. February's wait is at a week and counting... That Waiting Place leads to the waiting room outside my doctor's office this morning to determine whether or not a cold has blossomed into an ear infection. Waiting on a friend's medical scan, is now waiting on an appointment with a Specialist because the scan revealed more questions rather than answers. These are the gloomier sorts of Waiting Places.
Thankfully, there are other sorts. Like waiting for the coffee to brew. The wait for Shelley-in-Poland and Laura-in-Honduras and I to catch up in person while they're on their furloughs to Pleasant Suburb. The wait for the belt/blanket to develop into a string, then a belt, and now onward to who-knows-what. The wait while Skater Girl practices her stroking, spins, and jumps toward her first big skating test and resuming competition. The wait for Middle Child to come home and launch into her play-by-play of an evening at Perfect's house. Or her day at school. Or why she loves purple. My turn for the next move in Words With Friends. The in-between days waiting for Wednesdays and Saturdays when the mister and I have our dates. Opening each morning's Bible study e-mail from the church to see what little gem is waiting inside. These are the best sorts of waits. These are the anticipatory Waiting Places full of promise and potential.
That's the thing. In these Waiting Places, there is no one simple thing. There is more likely to be a whole host of just about everything. So. I'll gather my things, and sit down to wait. Eventually, it will all shake out. If not, at least we'll know what becomes of the belt/blanket with the addition of a few more rows.

Picture Post: Solved

Ah. Perfect may actually be, well, perfect. He left Middle Child with a gift tonight after coming over to watch a movie. She opened the gift bag to find a glass jar tied with a ribbon. She was momentarily puzzled by the contents. Until she realized the appropriateness of that feeling.

Rethinking

The Pantry Cleanse has been crushed. (It was the dogs--- they ran out of food.) BFF relieved the sting of defeat by meeting me at the Market for coffee before careening through the aisles armed with our shopping carts, opinions, and a host of mental price points and nutritional information. Important findings from the shopping expedition include:

•  "New Zealand Fresh" scented Mr. Clean, "... smells like Europe!" (BFF was in England, Italy, and Germany on two separate trips this year, so she would know such things.)
• Be sure to soak the corn tortillas before assembling enchiladas. (That's an advanced step. It can only be attempted after one remembers to pick up the tortillas.)
• It doesn't matter how healthy it is if the kids won't eat it.
• There's a certain shame in admitting that Skater Girl's morning often starts with Pop Tarts.

In other news, Skater Girl's illustration depicting the Creep Factor in the third person Point of View will be forwarded to a group of 5th Grade teachers. It will offer them the POV of their students. The post will also likely give them a laugh while allowing the opportunity to rethink the way certain lessons are stated.

Chained

Our church's Christmas decorations include a stage with a wall decorated in layers of paper chains. Using lights, the chains are made to look somewhat metallic, and the effect is pretty nifty. The finished result looks something like a textured painting filling the back wall. Here's a photo of the unfinished project from November:

Our family pitched in along with other volunteers the weekend before Thanksgiving to create lengths of paper chain that were used for the design. The task coincided with a certain truncated list of reasons to be thankful this year. Thinking of the list and the paper chains inspired an Idea. Each item included in The List is written on a strip of paper. Those strips become the base of a paper chain. Blank strips of paper, a marker, and the stapler are left out so that others may add links to the chain throughout Advent. On Christmas Day, our family can enjoy reading through the list to appreciate all the Good Stuff. Even The Boy will be able to participate from afar by calling in or mailing his additions. This could easily become an annual tradition.

Listing 2011, Part IV

The post-Thanksgiving listing of the good stuff goes on...

40. The "extra" teenagers who joined us to decorate the Christmas Tree this year.
39. Staying up late watching spy movies with Middle Child.
38. The possibility of our first freeze tonight.
37. Tomato Soup and Grilled Cheese Sandwiches for dinner.
36. Prayer.
35. That Skater Girl did not refer to "butt dialing" as a "booty call" in public before we discovered her mistaken assumption that they were the same thing.
34. That first whiff of pine as we walked past the Christmas Trees for sale at the market.
33. Belly laughs.
32. The start of Track Season for the Runner Girls on Monday.
31. The beginning of the Christmas message series at church this weekend.
30. Jane Austen.
29. Contentment.
28. My daughter wrapped in a quilt my mother made.
27. The trust of my children.
26. Memories.

Listing 2011, Part III

Thanksgiving was yesterday, but I'm continuing the list of things to be thankful for despite Black Friday:

50. I'm thankful for awareness:

Christmas Conspiracy from Christ Fellowship on Vimeo.

49. For the opportunities being offered through Reach Out Honduras that will open doors to those who live in need beyond what I have ever known.
48.  My son who has the potential to graduate from high school early if he can make the most of his opportunities.
47. Renewed relationships.
46. Giggling.
45. My mister. (He gets at least as many mentions as coffee... they're among my favorite addictions.)
44. Ally and Susan for backing up the theory that pumpkin pie is breakfast food.
43. Literacy.
42. Leftovers.
41. Being left-handed.

Listing 2011 Part II

75. Photos that capture an idea when words fail.
74. Buster and Maggie who always have a tail wagging greeting to welcome us home.
73. The machines that make multi-tasking easy. I mean you, Washer, Dryer, Dishwasher...
72. My in-laws who are spending Thanksgiving with the Boy today.
71. Inappropriate humor
70. Being surrounded by so much talent that I can make out three different songs being practiced simultaneously by the mister and his girls who are each in separate rooms.
69. Pie
68. A sonogram that showed no change in the Magical Mystery Lymph Node. Nothing to see there, movin' it along, people.
67. Our last reglarly scheduled weekend at the Little Country Church. And our return to our Home Church that's already begun.
66. Laughter
65. Gray hair
64. That my mister and I are still dating each other.
63. Google because it makes me smarter.
62. Jesus because He makes me certain.
61. The shapes Skater Girl's blade cut into the ice when she spins
60. Girly Coffee Dates
59. The Thanksgiving Team delivering food to needy families in Puerto Lempira, Honduras today to demonstrate God's provision rather than enjoying a turkey dinner with their loved ones at home.
58. Books
57. The mister making the coffee each morning while I'm still snoozing.
56. Big dreams and the bigger God who can make them reality.
55. For each time the light at the end of the tunnel is not a train.
54. The riot of color in the changing leaves.
53. Our monstrous Rosemary bush that grew from a single twig and survived a move.
52. Crock pots that make homemade possible even when Stay-at-Home-Mom is a misnomer.
51. That a list of a hundred reasons to be thankful will barely begin to cover all the good stuff.

Listing 2011

This week Green Girl has been posting an ongoing list of things she's grateful for in honor of Thanksgiving. Today, I'll start my own list of the good stuff:

100. Quiet moments
99. Speakers that fill a room with bass and sound that wash over one with the mood and emotion of music
98. Perseverance... the stuff that drives one to just. keep. going.
97. The laughter around our dinner table
96. Snuggling against my mister on a chilly night
95. Sharpies
94. The Birthday Girls: Denise, Joanne, and Lisa
93. Breakfast Dates with Meera and Sylvia that last well past lunch.
92. Kindness
91. Seeing my children try.
90. And fail.
89. And succeed.
88. Coffee
87. Grace that makes the untenable surmountable
86. Purple
85. Freshly laundered sheets
84. 1 Corinthians 13:4-7
83. History
82. The mister's jobs that allow him to work from home and me to be at home.
81. Possibilities
80. Avant's short-cycle church plant team in Gdansk, Poland
79. Elena. Our sweet sponsor daughter in La Moskitia who prays for us, humbles me, and is precious in every way.
78. Claudia. Our feisty sponsor daughter in La Moskitia who challenges those that would help her, has a smile that lights up my world, and has great potential should she choose to use it for good.
77. The Waits Family
76. Ally, Susan, and Marsha who have adopted me into their family and treat me like one of their own.

Creep

The mister suggests we add a vehicle like this to our driveway:

We can even put custom license plates that read, "CREEPN", on it. Our children have long referred to white vans as, "Creeper Vans" because every after school special and kiddie PSA on Stranger Danger throughout their early elementary years featured such a vehicle. The white cargo van is ultimately linked to strangers offering candy in the minds of my children.
With the Boy of legal driving age, and Middle Child right behind him, vehicles are a topic frequently considered and discussed around here. This weekend the mister saw a very reasonably priced white Econoline van offered  for sale locally. He and I found the potential hilarious. Our kids were less amused. Okay, Skater Girl thought it was funny, but she's several years behind her siblings; therefore, there's little risk that she would have an opportunity to drive the Creeper Van.

Tidbits: Birthday Girl

• Today is Skater Girl's actual birthday. Her daddy made the prediction that she would arrive by November 15th despite a December due date. Erin was obligingly born at a quarter to midnight.
• She is already tall, but her pediatrician projected that she will potentially reach somewhere between 5'9" and 6'1" before she attains her full adult height.
• She's witty, wry, funny, a talented writer with an eye toward social commentary and an artist specializing in cats, "...because she cannot draw people."
• As a toddler she could not run three steps without falling on her face, but she could stand on one foot for five minutes--- only quitting because she grew bored. As a tween, she's discovered that figure skating is her thing. Skater Girl loves jumps, and only bothers to learn spins because they are required to compete at levels with more complex jumps.
• Erin finds four-letter-words offensive. (This is not a given in her grade where many of her peers have mistaken Potty Mouth for Maturity.) She utilizes, "Cabbages!" in lieu of curse words and certain less socially acceptable exclamations.
• People are sometimes confused as to what her name is due to an array of nicknames. The most common of these include: Skater Girl, Libs, Libby, Livvie, Liv, Elizabeth, Lizabeth, Lizzy, Lizzer, Lou, Lulu, Little Bit, and (courtesy of her elder siblings) Lizard Beth and Lizard Breath. She generally answers to all but the last two.

Define Skinny

Post-knee replacement surgeries, I discovered that my jeans no longer fit. There was so much swelling three weeks post-op that my fat jeans could barely be wriggled over my knees, and the results were miserably painful. I sucked it up and ordered two sizes up because there was a full size difference between my regular and fat varieties already. Three and a half months later, and I am still alternating between the two pair of "fat" jeans.
Not that this is a subject that really gets much thought. Today it became an issue when time to take Skater Girl to school rolled around, and I remembered that both pair of Mom Jeans had gone into the laundry last night. Oops. I responded to the misters calls for me to hurry downstairs by leaning over the railing to request tht someone grab a pair of my jeans from the dryer. The request garnered the response that the load of jeans were washing again because they smelled weird. Since the mister and I were headed off for a morning date after dropping off our youngest, sweat pants were not really a desirable option.
Wondering how clean clothes could smell weird, I grabbed a pair of my too-small former fat jeans. (Which are now my skinny jeans because my behind grew to match the once-swollen knees while I was sitting around waiting to heal...) Expecting to relive the horror of trying to cram my post-partum body into normal jeans two weeks after giving birth for the first time, enthusiasm was lacking while pulling the jeans off a hanger dredged from the nether region of the closet. Hopping out of the closet while shimmying into the pants, it was entirely surprising to discover that they weren't putting up much of a fight. The zipper went right up without pliers, or even lying down on the bed. Cool.

Heading downstairs, I was feeling pretty good about the morning's surprise size downgrade. I gave a little spin and shook my newly discovered smaller hiney. Skater Girl caught this move, and she raised an eyebrow. I explained that I was wearing my "skinny" jeans. She looked a little sick. I said, "Not skinny jeans like your sister wears. My skinny jeans. That's what women call the too-small jeans they need to believe they will one day wear again if they can just lose that last five pounds." Grinning now, she replied, "You mean those jeans that women say are five pounds away, but what they mean is more like twenty." I think we can cross Jenny Craig consultant off her list of possible future careers. She might be a comedian, though.

Questioning

Hmmm... Someone asked this morning in a poll if couples have had a casual conversation about fonts. Um. We've had several in the past couple of weeks. So I responded in the affirmative. Then it occurred to me that perhaps the questioner wasn't actually referring to the type face sort of font that immediately comes to my mind. Just for grins, I entered the term into my browser. The first three definitions in multiple online dictionaries showed the following:
font 1 (f nt) n. 1. A basin for holding baptismal water in a church. 2. A receptacle for holy water; a stoup. 3. The oil reservoir in an oil-burning lamp.

Perhaps one of these top three fonts were what the question related to, and, if so, then I'm not so sure there have been casual conversations about any of them. Unless it was in relation to the use of such a word in a song? Or maybe we had some long ago trivia question about religious ceremony? Or a chat about historic light sources? No idea.

On the topic of fonts in relation to characters of specific size, shape, color, etc. we have had multiple conversations. Most recently this hot topic had to do with selecting the fonts for our Christmas Cards and in relation to some options proposed for Reach Out Honduras related to changing the logo. Is this weird? Surely the first three definitions listed for a word are likely to be the most common? Why don't I know whether that last statement is true? Good grief. Maybe the definitions are listed in chronological order of use beginning with the oldest and proceeding to modern usage? I wonder about these things sometimes... Then I wonder why I have so many questions, and we're off again...

RSVP

The simple art of responding properly to an invitation has been lost. Fortunately, Little Bit's teacher is British. (Well, she's a U.S. citizen as of last month, but she got to keep her awesome British accent.) She has invited the whole fourth grade glass to dress smartly and attend a tea party in honor of Prince William and Kate Middleton's wedding tomorrow. The class's homework assignment was to write an appropriate R.S.V.P. for the party tomorrow. Love it.
Now to get back to watching Charles and Di get married over and over again on TLC. I cannot work the DVR, but the girls can so we will now be able to endlessly watch Di's bridesmaids attempt to get her 26 foot train into the church and speculate on Kate's dress. My mister finds it funny that there's an awful lot of sighing and, er, squealing coming from the living room. Anywho... I must get back to the countdown on t.v. that I'm watching with my youngest child who is wearing ice skates (blade guards on in the house, of course) to practice her arabesques while we watch our fill of fairy tale wedding while mostly ignoring the unfortunate end to the nightmare marriage in anticipation of tomorrow morning's festivities.

Genetic Disorder

Erin is making her biome project. It involves the gruesome dismemberment of two plastic toy animals followed by super glue reattachment procedures for the creation of a Frankencritter that was supposed to be straight out of Erin's imagination. Unfortunately, Discount Store was lacking in snowy owls, polar bears, wolves, arctic foxes, or any other cool creature that could be forest or tundra dwellers.
Hunting through the animal figurines, she started trying to find any two animals that at least shared the same habitat since she will also be writing a report on the biome where her Frankencritter would exist. She was particularly taken with the idea of a pair of big cats, but the tigon/liger failed the habitat test. Then she saw the zebra which does share the lion's habitat, and it has all those lovely racing stripes. I asked if she'd considered that one was an herbivore and the other a carnivore. To which she replied, "Perfect. Then they will make an omnivore!" Thank you, young Dr. Frankenstein, and we'll look forward to meeting your Zion/Libra!

Authorized

In 5th Grade, Susan Cooper definitely scored the Favorite Author title. Neither of my eldest children have been particularly taken with Cooper's The Dark Is Rising sequence despite maternal insistence on the sheer excellence of the series. Then again, the youngest is likely the only potential Anglophile among them, and she is just now of age for a potential introduction. She writes fan fiction when a story really grabs her, so there's even greater appeal to introduce her to the series.
5th Grade being many, many moons into the distant past, I've moved on from fantasy tales spinning out in Wales to the no less intriguing histories of England and Scotland. (Wales garners little more of my attention than Normandy, and that typically because of relationship rather than individual merit.) Precious Youngest cracked the spine of my current read, Mary, Queen of Scots and the Murder of Lord Darnley as we sat waiting in the pediatrician's office (separate post on that to follow this one...) this week. She read a single line, "To the south of the city lay a quadrangle of collegiate buildings attached to the adjacent ruined Kirk of St. Mary in the Fields."* She closed the book silently, and her wide blue eyes cut to the side before meeting my amused gaze.
"I don't even know what that says!" was her comment as she handed the book back. Looking to see what she had read, I laughed because the whole sentence is essentially Geometry. Telling her so, I was greeted with a stony stare. I laughed and informed her that when she is studying math and someone foolishly says that they will never use fill-in-the-blank in the real world, she will know otherwise. Then I showed her an image of the spot described in the mystifying sentence from the book. She was marginally less unimpressed by Mom's choice of reading material once the math words were translated. Which is just as well since much of the life of Mary, Queen of Scots and those around her would make highly inappropriate reading for a 10 year old.
Still, having discovered that she is not quite ready to read Alison Weir, who is Mom's favorite author, perhaps Little Bit will consider giving Susan Cooper a trial read. I suspect The Dark is Rising will suit her penchant for fantasy and mystery well. Besides, a series has the benefit of telling more of the story as the author intends it to play out than a single novel can possibly cover. That should give Miss Erin plenty of fodder for her own elaboration and story lines to continue the tales as yet untold of Will Stanton.

*Weir, Alison: Mary, Queen of Scots and the Murder of Lord Darnley (Random House, 2003), p.1

Unlikely

Finally! I've missed the weekly and biweekly scheduled volunteer shifts at the children's shelter and the after school program immensely over the Christmas break and then the extended vacation from volunteerism with snow days, days off of school, and other opportunities for the  organizations to givew their volunteers a day off. Last week, it was good to be back at the shelter for children who have needed an emergency removal from abusive situations, and this week saw the return to helping with homework and hanging out over at Neighbor 2 Neighbor on the east side of Pleasant Suburb.
Making the drive over, it was good to be headed back to the apartment complex where the program ministers. Pulling into a parking space, I was watching for familiar faces. Sure enough K. came across the parking lot as I got out. "Hey! What're you doin' here?!" was the greeting. "I came to hang out and help with homework. What about you?" was my response in a similarly confrontational tone. K.'s answering smile made my day. He informed me that he was glad I was there. That made two of us.
K. was reading a chapter book based on a t.v. show today. That's big improvement over last semester when he was still reading simpler stories. We talked about the book and discussed whether or not we had ever eaten, "tapenade". (I had not, but since it's made with olives I theorized that it was salty. He had not either, but he thought it sounded sweet.) Eventually, he got up and left with his friends.
I know it's good to rest. To take a break from time to time. I'm also entirely thrilled to be back to our regular routine.

Tickets

The plane tickets to take us from the U.S. to Central America were easily purchased on the airline's web site that was available in both English and Spanish. No problemo. Today, it was time to place the order for the flight on a smaller regional carrier online. The web site was solely in Spanish. Despite the generally universal information needed for booking a flight (names, passport numbers, dates, destinations, and valid payment information), it was a puzzle to work through determining exactly which blanks were for what. We wanted to fly from La Ceiba to Puerto Lempira, and not the other way around, after all. I copied the screen and e-mailed it to Laura who said it looked good. Except that the screen had timed out.

I reentered the information requested, at least that was the intent while calling the credit card company to be sure the unusual charge would be approved. (Credit card companies get kind of paranoid about "unusual charges" involving international travel.) The card representative got off the phone just in time for me to send the information completing the purchase. Except that I pushed the wrong button because I didn't know which button said what and just deleted the whole thing. Grrr. Reentering all the information for a third time, I hit the correct button to process the desired transaction only to have the purchase received by our credit card issuer and declined.
While the mister looked up assorted unknown words in an online translator just to be sure the right information was being given, and I redialed the credit card company while entering the desired flight reservation once more. This time everything went perfectly. The information was entered correctly, the transaction approved, and our confirmation printed in anticipation of the trip in three more weeks. These small hurdles feel like great leaps as I stumble along gaining experience with travel. Hopefully, the light at the end of the tunnel is a warm, tropical sun... and not the glare of airport fluorescent lighting in the wrong place at the wrong time!

Stomped Goblins

We made Stomped Goblins yesterday. That means it's October around here because the cookies are an annual Fall family treat. (I've also heard them called Monster Cookies.) My mother used to make them at Halloween, and she would call them, "Stomped Goblins," saying, "That's what they look like!" Going with tradition, that is the name we use. The recipe follows:

Stomped Goblins
2 sticks butter
1 cup granulated sugar
1 cup brown sugar, tightly packed
2 eggs, well beaten
2 cups flour
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp vanilla
1 cup each: uncooked quick oats, corn flakes
1/2 cup each: chopped pecans, coconut, semisweet chocolate chips, butterscotch chips

Cream together butter and sugars. Add eggs. Sift together flour, baking soda, and baking powder. Mix in dry ingredients and add vanilla. Fold in quick oats, corn flakes, pecans, coconut, and chips. Refrigerate finished dough tightly covered for two hours.
Preheat oven to 350. Drop by rounded tablespoon onto a cookie sheet covered with parchment paper. Bake for 8-10 minutes until edges are brown and center is done.