Welcome to geezerhood
This week Joel will finally be the same age as me. Of course, I get to forge ahead further into geezerhood at the end of the month.
I don't know why I was always so eager to be a year older when I was a kid. I think I'm finally beginning to understand that whole "29 and holding" thing.
8.31.2003
8.30.2003
Pen pals
While cleaning out a closet, I came across a bundle of old letters from a pen pal I had through high school and college. Talk about a blast from the past, some of the letters date back to 1982! I'd met this fellow at a Christian summer camp and we became friends because of a mutual interest in music.
How exciting it used to be to get mail. But of course, the letters seemed so few and far between. I envy modern kids and their online pen pals, able to shoot replies in no time, e-mail photos, IM or even use a Web cam. Of course, they miss some of the goofy goodies my pen pal used to send--Canadian coins, broken strings from his violin, stickers and French vocabulary lists.
I wish I knew exactly what I'd written in my first letter to this pen pal. I'm sure it was something dreadfully sassy, because he replied "I didn't expect any of the girls to fall madly in love with me, so don't give yourself credit with uncovering any of my suppositions." LOL. I must have accused him of being flirtatious, the sort of thing a 13-year-old girl considers high treason in male friends.
As I read through the stack, it was a little sad to see how ordinary the letters were--talk of the weather, school and grades, learning new instuments in band, family trips, plans for college. This fellow seemed so much more witty when I was 14, 15, 16 years old.
The last time we met in person was 1986. I was heading off for Messiah with new contact lenses and big dreams. He still had grade 13 to complete.
We stopped corresponding in college. I'm not sure which of us stopped answering the other's letters. Today it strikes me as a little sad that I've lost track of so many old friends.
Dear John from Altamonte, Ontario,
Do you remember meeting me at Camp Susque? We were going into 9th grade. We wrote letters regularly for the next six or seven years. What ever happened to you, John?
I graduated with an English degree, worked in publishing for 10 years, got a master's degree, got married, and now have a great kid. She loves to play our piano (not very well though, she's only one!).
Please write back soon.
While cleaning out a closet, I came across a bundle of old letters from a pen pal I had through high school and college. Talk about a blast from the past, some of the letters date back to 1982! I'd met this fellow at a Christian summer camp and we became friends because of a mutual interest in music.
How exciting it used to be to get mail. But of course, the letters seemed so few and far between. I envy modern kids and their online pen pals, able to shoot replies in no time, e-mail photos, IM or even use a Web cam. Of course, they miss some of the goofy goodies my pen pal used to send--Canadian coins, broken strings from his violin, stickers and French vocabulary lists.
I wish I knew exactly what I'd written in my first letter to this pen pal. I'm sure it was something dreadfully sassy, because he replied "I didn't expect any of the girls to fall madly in love with me, so don't give yourself credit with uncovering any of my suppositions." LOL. I must have accused him of being flirtatious, the sort of thing a 13-year-old girl considers high treason in male friends.
As I read through the stack, it was a little sad to see how ordinary the letters were--talk of the weather, school and grades, learning new instuments in band, family trips, plans for college. This fellow seemed so much more witty when I was 14, 15, 16 years old.
The last time we met in person was 1986. I was heading off for Messiah with new contact lenses and big dreams. He still had grade 13 to complete.
We stopped corresponding in college. I'm not sure which of us stopped answering the other's letters. Today it strikes me as a little sad that I've lost track of so many old friends.
Dear John from Altamonte, Ontario,
Do you remember meeting me at Camp Susque? We were going into 9th grade. We wrote letters regularly for the next six or seven years. What ever happened to you, John?
I graduated with an English degree, worked in publishing for 10 years, got a master's degree, got married, and now have a great kid. She loves to play our piano (not very well though, she's only one!).
Please write back soon.
8.26.2003
Why I love my job
It is really, really cool to have the time flexibility of a SAHM. I was able to spend the morning today at my injured friend's house helping out with some housekeeping and a meal. I never would have been able to do that while I was working. Even my weekends were busy with errands and chores.
I also played with my starting-to-walk kid for hours, reading stories and singing songs. Her new word for the week is "cracker." I would have missed her first steps and new words if I were working.
And tonight I made two batches of peach jam. Mmm mmm. I love keeping up all these great domestic skills my mom taught me as a kid that no one I know does any more. I know people who knit, make their own bread and grow fresh vegetables, but I don't know anyone else who still cans. And it's quite easy--especially jam.
It is really, really cool to have the time flexibility of a SAHM. I was able to spend the morning today at my injured friend's house helping out with some housekeeping and a meal. I never would have been able to do that while I was working. Even my weekends were busy with errands and chores.
I also played with my starting-to-walk kid for hours, reading stories and singing songs. Her new word for the week is "cracker." I would have missed her first steps and new words if I were working.
And tonight I made two batches of peach jam. Mmm mmm. I love keeping up all these great domestic skills my mom taught me as a kid that no one I know does any more. I know people who knit, make their own bread and grow fresh vegetables, but I don't know anyone else who still cans. And it's quite easy--especially jam.
8.23.2003
Owie!
Please pray for hierogrammate's wife. She broke her leg today at a church women's brunch (slid on an embankment outside). They have two small kids, age 2 and 4, and no bathroom on the first floor of their 3-story twin.
We her friends also need wisdom in knowing how to be of help to the family. One thing that's pretty obvious is that it's time to take my compulsive tidying on the road. ;-)
Please pray for hierogrammate's wife. She broke her leg today at a church women's brunch (slid on an embankment outside). They have two small kids, age 2 and 4, and no bathroom on the first floor of their 3-story twin.
We her friends also need wisdom in knowing how to be of help to the family. One thing that's pretty obvious is that it's time to take my compulsive tidying on the road. ;-)
8.21.2003
By accident
I just remembered something funny from vacation when we attended church in Atlanta.
When we picked up Claire from the church nursery, one of the workers handed us Claire's diaper bag and said "Oh, she had an accident."
Our reaction was, "Oh! Is she OK?" thinking she'd fallen, bonked her head or pinched her fingers.
"Oh yes," the worker said, "we changed her diaper at about 11:45."
Is this just one of those weird Southern affectations, not saying things like "dirty diaper"? In my mind, only the toilet-trained can have accidents. A baby using a diaper for its intended purpose is not "an accident," it's very deliberate!
I just remembered something funny from vacation when we attended church in Atlanta.
When we picked up Claire from the church nursery, one of the workers handed us Claire's diaper bag and said "Oh, she had an accident."
Our reaction was, "Oh! Is she OK?" thinking she'd fallen, bonked her head or pinched her fingers.
"Oh yes," the worker said, "we changed her diaper at about 11:45."
Is this just one of those weird Southern affectations, not saying things like "dirty diaper"? In my mind, only the toilet-trained can have accidents. A baby using a diaper for its intended purpose is not "an accident," it's very deliberate!
Quiz quandary
Well, I took the "What Country Are You?" quiz and got a surprising answer. I'm not sure what to make of it. Any interpretations? Tell me in the comments.
After almost endless suffering, you've finally freed yourself from the oppression that somehow held you back. Now your diamond in the rough is shining through, and the world can accept you for who you really are. You were trying to show who you were to the world, but they weren't interested in helping you become that until it was almost too late. Suddenly you're a very hopeful person, even if you still have some troubles.
Take the Country Quiz at the Blue Pyramid
Well, I took the "What Country Are You?" quiz and got a surprising answer. I'm not sure what to make of it. Any interpretations? Tell me in the comments.
You're South Africa!
After almost endless suffering, you've finally freed yourself from the oppression that somehow held you back. Now your diamond in the rough is shining through, and the world can accept you for who you really are. You were trying to show who you were to the world, but they weren't interested in helping you become that until it was almost too late. Suddenly you're a very hopeful person, even if you still have some troubles.
8.19.2003
Borrowed time
My luck will likely run out soon. Claire has been napping 3-4 hours a day while she's in a current growth spurt. It's been great getting cleaning and organizing projects done, walking the dog and even blogging occasionally while she rests.
My project list is entirely too long. Five closets need serious attention. The study is a fire hazard, as is the basement. I have to keep reminding myself that I really can take months to do these projects if necessary. Having fun with Claire and helping her learn is really my core job anyway.
My luck will likely run out soon. Claire has been napping 3-4 hours a day while she's in a current growth spurt. It's been great getting cleaning and organizing projects done, walking the dog and even blogging occasionally while she rests.
My project list is entirely too long. Five closets need serious attention. The study is a fire hazard, as is the basement. I have to keep reminding myself that I really can take months to do these projects if necessary. Having fun with Claire and helping her learn is really my core job anyway.
8.18.2003
Reader's lament
Last night I discovered that Susan Howatch's much anticipated new St. Benet's novel, The Heartbreaker, is out. In fact, it has been out since April. Unfortunately, this seems like news I have to receive with fingers in both ears while whistling loudly because it's only available in hardback from Amazon UK. Not exactly in our budget right now. The paperback is available for pre-order if anyone really wants to make my late September birthday extra happy. ;-)
Carter Graham is back with her new, more feminine name, Carta. She's now doing fundraising for St. Benet's instead of working as a high-powered tax attorney. The setting is 1990s London during the recession. I'm eager to see how the story unfolds.
In the U.S., several of Howatch's early Gothic novels are back in print. These might be worth a read, not sure. One of the women in our book group had been somewhat prejudiced against Howatch because the early novels that made her popular had such sordid, overblown plots. I kind of thought that was just the expectation for the Gothic genre. This friend was really blown away by Howatch's 2000 novel The High Flyer, so I'm guessing early Howatch may really disappoint.
Last night I discovered that Susan Howatch's much anticipated new St. Benet's novel, The Heartbreaker, is out. In fact, it has been out since April. Unfortunately, this seems like news I have to receive with fingers in both ears while whistling loudly because it's only available in hardback from Amazon UK. Not exactly in our budget right now. The paperback is available for pre-order if anyone really wants to make my late September birthday extra happy. ;-)
Carter Graham is back with her new, more feminine name, Carta. She's now doing fundraising for St. Benet's instead of working as a high-powered tax attorney. The setting is 1990s London during the recession. I'm eager to see how the story unfolds.
In the U.S., several of Howatch's early Gothic novels are back in print. These might be worth a read, not sure. One of the women in our book group had been somewhat prejudiced against Howatch because the early novels that made her popular had such sordid, overblown plots. I kind of thought that was just the expectation for the Gothic genre. This friend was really blown away by Howatch's 2000 novel The High Flyer, so I'm guessing early Howatch may really disappoint.
8.17.2003
Par-tay
Saturday we had a little shindig to celebrate Claire's first birthday, which is this week. I really had fun preparing. The theme was "indoor picninc." The "indoor" part was wise because a thunderstorm hit during the middle of the party.
The menu included wonderful picnic food: barbecue chicken, homemade potato and macaroni salads, fruit salad, three kinds of chips, cake and homemade ice cream. We decorated with checked tablecloths and napkins, lots of baskets, streamers and balloons. I set up a teddy bear picinic tableau on the mantle, which I thought the kid guests and grandmothers would enjoy. Here's a pic:
Claire wore an uber-cute embroidered party dress and had a great time playing with the pint-sized guests.
New toys and old ended up strewn from one end of the house to the other. It was really hard to turn off what I now realize is a compulsive tidying streak. I think the compulsive tidying is why I have such a hard time cooking. I feel like I have to wash every item I dirty right then and there.
Saturday we had a little shindig to celebrate Claire's first birthday, which is this week. I really had fun preparing. The theme was "indoor picninc." The "indoor" part was wise because a thunderstorm hit during the middle of the party.
The menu included wonderful picnic food: barbecue chicken, homemade potato and macaroni salads, fruit salad, three kinds of chips, cake and homemade ice cream. We decorated with checked tablecloths and napkins, lots of baskets, streamers and balloons. I set up a teddy bear picinic tableau on the mantle, which I thought the kid guests and grandmothers would enjoy. Here's a pic:
Claire wore an uber-cute embroidered party dress and had a great time playing with the pint-sized guests.
New toys and old ended up strewn from one end of the house to the other. It was really hard to turn off what I now realize is a compulsive tidying streak. I think the compulsive tidying is why I have such a hard time cooking. I feel like I have to wash every item I dirty right then and there.
8.15.2003
Night terrors
Last night while we were watching the evening news, Claire suddenly woke up screaming. It's not unusual for her to wake between 11 and midnight, cry for 10 seconds then fall back to sleep. But this was different--she wasn't crying the "I'm thirsty" or "I'm so tired" cry. She was really freaked out.
We went up to see what was the matter. Even when I held her she wouldn't stop crying. She didn't want a drink and wailed inconsolably regardless of which of us held her. I thought the two parent ruckus might be too much, so I sent Joel to bed and tried rocking Claire on the twin bed in her room. As soon as he shut the door, she screamed even louder and started kicking.
I started to worry that she had gas pain or some other health problem, so I switched on a table lamp with a low watt bulb that we keep in her room to get a better look. She seemed to calm down almost immediately.
It was a mommy Aha moment. My baby is becoming a toddler! She's now afraid of the dark.
When Joel had left the room, he'd cut the ambient light coming in from the next room. Ah.
I put Claire back in her crib and gave her her favorite blanket. She flopped sleepily on it and looked up at me as if to say, "what took you so long to make the bad dark to go away?"
Now she has her very own night light.
Next stop, tantrums and picky eating....
Last night while we were watching the evening news, Claire suddenly woke up screaming. It's not unusual for her to wake between 11 and midnight, cry for 10 seconds then fall back to sleep. But this was different--she wasn't crying the "I'm thirsty" or "I'm so tired" cry. She was really freaked out.
We went up to see what was the matter. Even when I held her she wouldn't stop crying. She didn't want a drink and wailed inconsolably regardless of which of us held her. I thought the two parent ruckus might be too much, so I sent Joel to bed and tried rocking Claire on the twin bed in her room. As soon as he shut the door, she screamed even louder and started kicking.
I started to worry that she had gas pain or some other health problem, so I switched on a table lamp with a low watt bulb that we keep in her room to get a better look. She seemed to calm down almost immediately.
It was a mommy Aha moment. My baby is becoming a toddler! She's now afraid of the dark.
When Joel had left the room, he'd cut the ambient light coming in from the next room. Ah.
I put Claire back in her crib and gave her her favorite blanket. She flopped sleepily on it and looked up at me as if to say, "what took you so long to make the bad dark to go away?"
Now she has her very own night light.
Next stop, tantrums and picky eating....
8.11.2003
Knit wits
I occasionally peek at some of the blogs on Dawn's copious blogroll and came across this one. It's somewhat interesting to hear about others' creative endeavors, as long as some other topics are thrown in. Ya know, a little variety.
I can't imagine being so engrossed in a hobby that I'd want to make it my exclusive blogging topic. Excuse me, but, BOR-ing.
The really scary part is that a whole host of the knitting obsessed blog their yarns about, well, yarn...
I have heaps of embriodery floss. Many needles. Much aida cloth. But I don't intend to catalog how many Xs I stitched today. So please send me a cyber-slap if this blog ever becomes a hobby-obsessed abyss. Thanks.
I occasionally peek at some of the blogs on Dawn's copious blogroll and came across this one. It's somewhat interesting to hear about others' creative endeavors, as long as some other topics are thrown in. Ya know, a little variety.
I can't imagine being so engrossed in a hobby that I'd want to make it my exclusive blogging topic. Excuse me, but, BOR-ing.
The really scary part is that a whole host of the knitting obsessed blog their yarns about, well, yarn...
I have heaps of embriodery floss. Many needles. Much aida cloth. But I don't intend to catalog how many Xs I stitched today. So please send me a cyber-slap if this blog ever becomes a hobby-obsessed abyss. Thanks.
Blogger meeting
Among the highlights of our trip last month was meeting Dawn and Barb in Ohio. Barb's dog Angus and our Nicky became fast friends, being the same size and equally up for playing tag. Barb's cat Eleven, however, was far less enthusiastic than Nicky about any sort of friendship.
You see, Nicky mistook Barb's small, black feline for our small, black feline, Keats. Nicky was really missing his kitty brother who came to our home as a kitten and enjoys a good wrestling match every once in a while. Eleven, however, is far too dignified for such shenanigans. Nicky chased the poor kitty in circles and he was so eager to escape, he leapt up a chair and bounced off the ceiling. I've never seen a cat jump so high. Let's just say it was quite the icebreaker for our party.
Claire gorged on copious amounts of fruit, while we enjoyed a really yummy meal. The sausage and pastry dish was especially memorable (recipe, please!).
The conversation was lively and we stayed longer than we'd planned, we were having such a good time. I can't recall all the topics covered. Some of the things we discussed were the conference--and tangential topics related to talks given and people we met-- and careers and movies. Joel and I did our best to defend Moulin Rouge, which works to deconstruct the romantic musical genre and in so doing shows that stories about redemptive love resist deconstruction. (But many people can't get past the frenetic first half hour and don't get the humor.)
My first comment to Joel as we drove away was "I wish all these cool people didn't live so far away! I'd love to hang out with them more often!"
Thanks again for your gracious hospitality, Barb, and for giving up a vacation day, Dawn!
Among the highlights of our trip last month was meeting Dawn and Barb in Ohio. Barb's dog Angus and our Nicky became fast friends, being the same size and equally up for playing tag. Barb's cat Eleven, however, was far less enthusiastic than Nicky about any sort of friendship.
You see, Nicky mistook Barb's small, black feline for our small, black feline, Keats. Nicky was really missing his kitty brother who came to our home as a kitten and enjoys a good wrestling match every once in a while. Eleven, however, is far too dignified for such shenanigans. Nicky chased the poor kitty in circles and he was so eager to escape, he leapt up a chair and bounced off the ceiling. I've never seen a cat jump so high. Let's just say it was quite the icebreaker for our party.
Claire gorged on copious amounts of fruit, while we enjoyed a really yummy meal. The sausage and pastry dish was especially memorable (recipe, please!).
The conversation was lively and we stayed longer than we'd planned, we were having such a good time. I can't recall all the topics covered. Some of the things we discussed were the conference--and tangential topics related to talks given and people we met-- and careers and movies. Joel and I did our best to defend Moulin Rouge, which works to deconstruct the romantic musical genre and in so doing shows that stories about redemptive love resist deconstruction. (But many people can't get past the frenetic first half hour and don't get the humor.)
My first comment to Joel as we drove away was "I wish all these cool people didn't live so far away! I'd love to hang out with them more often!"
Thanks again for your gracious hospitality, Barb, and for giving up a vacation day, Dawn!
8.09.2003
8.07.2003
Out of the stone age
A nice couple from our church donated software for us to computerize our church library catalog. Well, we tried it out today and it's a DOS-based system from 1985! Yikes, I'd forgotten how cumbersome computing was in that era. Remember all those BASIC commands you needed to copy files, open them, save? Remember swapping around 3 or 4 different disks to open the program, enter data, then save it? Oy vey. I'm glad technology has come a long way since then.
I think we're going to purchase a program called ResourceMate. The price is within our budget and the demo seemed pretty easy to use. It even allows you to import cataloging information from the Library of Congress database. We can later add capabilities to make our catalog searchable from the Web so that church members can see if we carry a book or video. It would be cool to eventually make our check-out system computerized too. We could more easily track overdues for one.
You wouldn't believe how far overdue some materials are--I think some items checked out as long ago as 1990 have never been returned. Aside from enstating a fine system, I'm not sure how to really beef up our current system of mailing overdue notices to patrons. What's really appropriate in a church setting? Public shaming in the church bulletin?
A nice couple from our church donated software for us to computerize our church library catalog. Well, we tried it out today and it's a DOS-based system from 1985! Yikes, I'd forgotten how cumbersome computing was in that era. Remember all those BASIC commands you needed to copy files, open them, save? Remember swapping around 3 or 4 different disks to open the program, enter data, then save it? Oy vey. I'm glad technology has come a long way since then.
I think we're going to purchase a program called ResourceMate. The price is within our budget and the demo seemed pretty easy to use. It even allows you to import cataloging information from the Library of Congress database. We can later add capabilities to make our catalog searchable from the Web so that church members can see if we carry a book or video. It would be cool to eventually make our check-out system computerized too. We could more easily track overdues for one.
You wouldn't believe how far overdue some materials are--I think some items checked out as long ago as 1990 have never been returned. Aside from enstating a fine system, I'm not sure how to really beef up our current system of mailing overdue notices to patrons. What's really appropriate in a church setting? Public shaming in the church bulletin?
SAHM
What a misnomer, "stay-at-home-mom." I have hardly been home at all my first week in my new career as domestic engineer. Aside from loads of errand running and a few appointments, Claire and I have been out being social. We had our first "play date" with some friends from church today--fun for both of us. Tuesday I got to play tour guide for my sister, niece and niece's friend visiting from Hungary. They had a few hours to kill before putting the Hungarian teenager on a plane for Budapest. She loved City Hall and the other Victorian-era buildings in Center City, including the recently renovated Reading Terminal. She even showed mild interest in Philly's historic sites. It got me wondering if Europeans, with their Medieval churches and walls still standing, think our short history like the memoirs of a grade schooler.
What a misnomer, "stay-at-home-mom." I have hardly been home at all my first week in my new career as domestic engineer. Aside from loads of errand running and a few appointments, Claire and I have been out being social. We had our first "play date" with some friends from church today--fun for both of us. Tuesday I got to play tour guide for my sister, niece and niece's friend visiting from Hungary. They had a few hours to kill before putting the Hungarian teenager on a plane for Budapest. She loved City Hall and the other Victorian-era buildings in Center City, including the recently renovated Reading Terminal. She even showed mild interest in Philly's historic sites. It got me wondering if Europeans, with their Medieval churches and walls still standing, think our short history like the memoirs of a grade schooler.
8.03.2003
Back in the saddle
OK, I'm making an earnest attempt to blog again, though I have to admit I've been avoiding the computer because it feels too much like work. After telecommuting twice a week for nine months, I will probably have this gut-level feeling for a while.
Anyhoo... our 3,000 mile adventure on the road with pup and babe went surprisingly well. The big SUV we rented did make for a much more comfortable trip. (I still think the SUV acronym stands for "Satan's usual vehicle," a prime example of American conspicuous consumption. But that's another rant entirely.)
The biggest downside to our arrangement was meals, which on the road were primarily drive-though fast food eaten in the truck. I'm really regretting we didn't send Nicky to obedince school. Buy the right harness, take my glasses away and I think we could have pulled off a pretty convincing seeing-eye impression. But alas, our fur boy is too spazzy for such a role that would have made him acceptable in restaurants everywhere. And since we didn't want baked dog, the whole family was banished to eating in the vehicle.
Claire took a few steps back in her eating on the trip too. We're trying to wean her off pureed food from jars, but it's honestly the most convenient way to feed a kid on the road. Most fast food fare isn't appropriate for the under 1 set. Pre-toddlers generally aren't good at warning you they're going to need to eat soon. Suddenly, she shifts from happily playing to cranky and crying--"Feed me NOW!" And she's so messy feeding herself, it's just cleaner and faster to spoon out the Gerber purees.
I learned a lot about hospitality on the trip. Not that I could really articulate it well now without some concentrated reflection. That's on my mental "agenda" in the coming weeks, however, since I've been trying to pull together a second article for Meshereth magazine on the topic. I wrote the first one somewhat under the gun and see a lot of places I could have clarified or expanded a bit.
We really did get to see the famed "Southern hospitality" in practice. One of Joel's BH friends had arranged for us to stay with a former parishoner in Birmingham, Ala. This fellow then realized he'd be out of town and said his mother, who lives next door, would be happy to put us up.
Well, we didn't have her phone number, and because Joel had worked out so many details via e-mail with the son, we just showed up. As I'd vaguely feared, she didn't know who we were. But she welcomed us in anyway, happy to have company on a quiet weekend when most of the family (who all live nearby) were away. Once we explained our connection to various BH folk, she was simply delighted, asking after various people we'd met at the conference. (We now think she had simply forgotten discussing our visit with her son, rather than that he'd never told her.)
She had several bedrooms ready and available, bathroom set up with fresh towels even. She's accustomed to a steady stream of kids and grandkids visiting. It really made me think about what it means to be willing at all times to show hospitality...and showing kindness to strangers. Especially when we went out to dinner and she wouldn't let us pay.
More trip stories to come...
OK, I'm making an earnest attempt to blog again, though I have to admit I've been avoiding the computer because it feels too much like work. After telecommuting twice a week for nine months, I will probably have this gut-level feeling for a while.
Anyhoo... our 3,000 mile adventure on the road with pup and babe went surprisingly well. The big SUV we rented did make for a much more comfortable trip. (I still think the SUV acronym stands for "Satan's usual vehicle," a prime example of American conspicuous consumption. But that's another rant entirely.)
The biggest downside to our arrangement was meals, which on the road were primarily drive-though fast food eaten in the truck. I'm really regretting we didn't send Nicky to obedince school. Buy the right harness, take my glasses away and I think we could have pulled off a pretty convincing seeing-eye impression. But alas, our fur boy is too spazzy for such a role that would have made him acceptable in restaurants everywhere. And since we didn't want baked dog, the whole family was banished to eating in the vehicle.
Claire took a few steps back in her eating on the trip too. We're trying to wean her off pureed food from jars, but it's honestly the most convenient way to feed a kid on the road. Most fast food fare isn't appropriate for the under 1 set. Pre-toddlers generally aren't good at warning you they're going to need to eat soon. Suddenly, she shifts from happily playing to cranky and crying--"Feed me NOW!" And she's so messy feeding herself, it's just cleaner and faster to spoon out the Gerber purees.
I learned a lot about hospitality on the trip. Not that I could really articulate it well now without some concentrated reflection. That's on my mental "agenda" in the coming weeks, however, since I've been trying to pull together a second article for Meshereth magazine on the topic. I wrote the first one somewhat under the gun and see a lot of places I could have clarified or expanded a bit.
We really did get to see the famed "Southern hospitality" in practice. One of Joel's BH friends had arranged for us to stay with a former parishoner in Birmingham, Ala. This fellow then realized he'd be out of town and said his mother, who lives next door, would be happy to put us up.
Well, we didn't have her phone number, and because Joel had worked out so many details via e-mail with the son, we just showed up. As I'd vaguely feared, she didn't know who we were. But she welcomed us in anyway, happy to have company on a quiet weekend when most of the family (who all live nearby) were away. Once we explained our connection to various BH folk, she was simply delighted, asking after various people we'd met at the conference. (We now think she had simply forgotten discussing our visit with her son, rather than that he'd never told her.)
She had several bedrooms ready and available, bathroom set up with fresh towels even. She's accustomed to a steady stream of kids and grandkids visiting. It really made me think about what it means to be willing at all times to show hospitality...and showing kindness to strangers. Especially when we went out to dinner and she wouldn't let us pay.
More trip stories to come...
7.27.2003
The South is another country
Conversation between Joel and young boy in a motel parking lot in Kentucky.
Boy: Hi, mister
Joel: Hi
Boy: That shuer a purtty dawg. Do he bayte?
Joel: No, he won't bite, he's pretty friendly.
{nicky howls}
Boy: You shuer he don't bayte?
Joel: He just howls when he's excited.
Boy: Well, Ize skeert a dawgs.
Joel: I see. Well, I'm going to take him for his walk now.
Boy: Bye, mister.
Conversation between Joel and young boy in a motel parking lot in Kentucky.
Boy: Hi, mister
Joel: Hi
Boy: That shuer a purtty dawg. Do he bayte?
Joel: No, he won't bite, he's pretty friendly.
{nicky howls}
Boy: You shuer he don't bayte?
Joel: He just howls when he's excited.
Boy: Well, Ize skeert a dawgs.
Joel: I see. Well, I'm going to take him for his walk now.
Boy: Bye, mister.
7.15.2003
Kitty withdrawal
I miss my wicked kitty. Mr. Keats is staying with my brother for a few weeks while we travel.
I drove him to my brother's on Sunday evening and he cried the entire 45 minute trip. I'd packed him in a tall open-top box with a cozy towel and some food. Occassionally, he'd peep his head out of the box, see the cars on the highway behind us and cry even louder, as if to say "What is happening? Oh help!"
The trauma continued when we got to J's. He has two dogs that Keats used to know when he was a kitten. (J's former cat is Keats' mom. She got hit by a car this past spring.) J let Keats get his bearings, then let in the dogs one at a time. The small dog ignored Keats, the big one wanted to play. I hung around for an hour, and Keats was still under the dining room table, back arched, hissing at the big dog like mad.
My poor furry boy. I didn't get to hug him goodbye because he hissed at all of us for fear of the dog. I hope by tomorrow they will have established some sort of pecking order and will get along fine. I guess his casual attitude towards dogs really only applies to his "brother" Nicky.
I miss my wicked kitty. Mr. Keats is staying with my brother for a few weeks while we travel.
I drove him to my brother's on Sunday evening and he cried the entire 45 minute trip. I'd packed him in a tall open-top box with a cozy towel and some food. Occassionally, he'd peep his head out of the box, see the cars on the highway behind us and cry even louder, as if to say "What is happening? Oh help!"
The trauma continued when we got to J's. He has two dogs that Keats used to know when he was a kitten. (J's former cat is Keats' mom. She got hit by a car this past spring.) J let Keats get his bearings, then let in the dogs one at a time. The small dog ignored Keats, the big one wanted to play. I hung around for an hour, and Keats was still under the dining room table, back arched, hissing at the big dog like mad.
My poor furry boy. I didn't get to hug him goodbye because he hissed at all of us for fear of the dog. I hope by tomorrow they will have established some sort of pecking order and will get along fine. I guess his casual attitude towards dogs really only applies to his "brother" Nicky.
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