Me in Place

Easy idea for studying ancient history – crinkle up brown paper bags and paint your own scenes! Then leave the “cave paintings” lying around your house for a couple hundred years and see if archaeologists can figure out what your kids depicted! (In our case, a baseball game with dad, a dead fish and a giraffe from the zoo.)

We sold something and were paid in cash. Which means I had a good ol’ fashioned 100 dollar bill in my hands. But, frankly (franklin?), I am opposed to the hundred dollar bill. Because of Ben.

See his face?

I hate his look. He’s all, “As if you really need those cute shoes!” “Budget, budget, budget!” “A penny saved is a penny earned.”

“But, Ben,” I say, “I know this is my grocery money, but….that book! It looks so good!”

“But, Ben! That purse is on saaaaaaale!”

“But, Ben….it’s for the children!”

So no fun hanging out with Benjamin.

We’re coming up on our 15 year anniversary this week. And it makes me all sentimental. About the people we used to be. So young and dreamy. So bold…did you know that Mr MIP played guitar in a chapel service at our college and  – although I had met him before, I didn’t really know him. Afterward, mutual friends were talking to each other and Mr and I were left to talk to each other, I jokingly said, you did a great job today, can I have your autograph? and handed him a piece of paper. He returned it with “Will you go out to dinner with me?” Now, if you know Mr, you know that’s not quite like him…to be so bold and forward. But the rest is history!

One time on a way to a birthday party for one of his bandmates, we were pulled over by a policeman. The cop took Mr’s license and went back to the car…he came back in a few minutes and said that there was an arrest warrant out under his name. I freaked out. I didn’t know where we were… I didn’t really want Mr to be arrested! Trying not to cry, I watched as the cop pulled out handcuffs and asked if Mr knew what those were for. “Yes.” He pulled out a taser and asked if he knew what that was for…”Yes.” He pulled out a box and asked if he knew what that was for. “Yes.”  Well, good luck the cop said.

And Mr turned to me and opened the box with my ring in it and asked me to marry him.

We laugh now, because maybe it wasn’t the most romantic way to get engaged, but it was the only way Mr MIP could think to surprise me! We went and ate at Hardee’s after we got engaged and then went on to the birthday party and watched Spinal Tap. What a romantic night!

Another year of Awana is done! SuperBoy completed his first Sparky book. Miss in the Middle finished her third Sparky book and received her Sparky Award plaque and Elder Miss finished two T&T books and received her Excellence Award.

I found my old Sparks books in a box last week and my Sparky Award banner and showed it to them. Can’t quite say they understood the history and tradition that is being carried on here, but it means a great deal to me!

Weekend: We actually had a Saturday with nowhere to go, other than swim lessons for the girls. It was very relaxing, until Mr MIP decided it was the perfect day to clean out the garage attic. So then I spent the rest of the day sorting into keep, save, garage sale piles. One bin is all my cards and letters and journals I kept from over the years. I have a sweet family who sent me lots of cute letters and I enjoyed reading them, including the Best Letter I Ever Received. It was a letter from my dad when I was at college. Maybe someday I’ll share some of it for you – because I think he’d tell you the exact same thing. Isn’t it cool that even when someone has died, we have their words to read over and be reminded of what’s important in life?

Books I’m Reading: I haven’t actually finished a book in a while, because I’m in the middle of a bunch of them. Jodi Picoult’s book Handle With Care about a little girl with brittle bone disease (OI). The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck. I was so scared to read him at first, but now I have an author crush on him – he creates the best atmospheres and stories. Why We Love the Church: in Praise of Institutions and Organized Religion. by Kevin DeYoung and by Ted Kluck. I stayed up until 1:30 last night reading it. Very good and very much what I need right now.

SuperBoy News: SuperBoy is obsessed with Star Wars Lego Wii game right now. Obsessed, I tell ya. We have to set strict limits on how much he plays, when he plays, etc. It’s good training for me dealing with him when he’s a teen, right??

Allowance: I’m enjoying my kids doing chores. Yep, tis true! I tell them I am willing to do the jobs myself for free, so the reason I’m giving them money is as PAY. I’m paying them to do the work. Money is never free. I also discovered my older daughter likes to make money and I like to have the bathrooms clean. So, it’s a win-win for both of us! Life has gotten better!

Coupon: Last week my big celebration about ME was that I cooked/made every stinkin’ meal for the week – every breakfast, lunch and dinner for all of us. No eating out! Very proud of myself, because that was tough! Yesterday, went and stocked up and managed to pay $78, with $13 earned in cashback – so we’ll see if groceries worth $65 can feed five people (plus a couple extra dinner drop-ins ) for a week!

Guess what SuperBoy got for Christmas from my loving bro/sis-in-law?

My house will never be the same again.

And I’ll never admit to the fun I have playing with it after the kids are all tucked in their beds.

Well, I finished up another Jeopardy calendar. I don’t have a picture of it – but it’s one of those page-a-day ones where every day is a question (answer, technically) and I try to figure out the question. I’ve been doing Jeopardy calendars since I was in college – I have proof because I just found a picture of me in my college dorm room and there, in the background, is the calendar! Then, at my work, we used to compete all year ’round and the losing team had to buy the other team pizza. I’ve even kept track of it the last two years on this blog.

2007 – I was 73% smart

2008 – I was 69% smart

2009?……69% smart again. This is so depressing. I thought you got smarter with age? No?

Isn’t that one of the hardest things to deal with? That you’re average?

Oh, that’s right…you’re perfect. You’d have no idea what average feels like.

It’s been four years today since my dad died. Sometimes the only thing I can tell myself is that the reason the grief is so deep is because I was blessed to have such an amazing dad.

A dad who showed us the value of working hard. I hated every second of digging those weeds out of the sidewalk with a butter knife. And every morning at 5:30 for a few years of my life, he would wake up with me and we would walk my paper route together. Showing that hard work is hard work – so shut up and get it done.

A dad who showed grace and mercy. I failed a class my first year of college. I had never gotten an F in my life before. I was so afraid to show him, but when I did, he comforted me instead of lecturing and said, that’s okay, I got bad grades my first year too. It’s a time of adjustment. Now you know what’s going on, go get better grades.

A dad who – when I came up with my new obsessions – showed an interest and asked questions and truly wanted to know what we were interested in. Usually for the two of us, it involved music. He and I would discover a new song and we’d listen to it over and over again.

A dad who – after I got married – never ever stepped into our decisions or told us we were morons for our choices. He said, our relationship is different now and you’re his responsibility and I will treat you as a friend and I will not give you advice. I remember once laughing at him, saying, Dad, really…I won’t take it as you imposing on our marriage, just tell me - Maytag or Whirlpool?

A dad who taught us to have a sense of humor about it all.

A dad who put up with people of all sorts and showed extreme…read that – EXTREME patience and grace to those around him. Including me.

A dad who demonstrated his love with actions and words. He held our hands those last days in the hospital and told us he loved us. I remember standing beside him, seeing that his heart was giving out and telling him it was okay for him to go.

I’ve always wanted to take those words back.

Grandpa with a newborn SuperBoy

DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think’st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and souls delivery.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better then thy stroke; why swell’st thou then;
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

-John Donne

I have this awesome trait of always being sick or injured on my birthday. And since so far I am neither sick nor injured today, even though it is, indeed, my birthday, I thought I’d take a look back at my favorite birthday injury thus far. And my mom can correct me on all the things I’m wrong about. And if you could read this post in a British accent, too, that would be appreciated. It just adds more to the writing, methinks.

So here’s my greatest Birthday Story Ever. We used to have this vintage Coke machine…you know, the kind that dispensed bottles? And we used it is a bookcase. I can’t remember what room it was in. But I remember it having books in it. So my brother, whom I shall refer to as Jeff, since that is, indeed, his name. (Or, go ahead and call him Fuffy, which was how I said his name when I was little. He’ll really like that.) So, Jeff and I decide that it sounds like there’s still change in that machine. We tried to reach in and get the money, but we couldn’t reach it. There were bottle caps still in there, but we were sure there were also quarters. So we pulled and pulled and pulled…and suddenly the whole machine tipped over and fell on me and I felt the handle rip at my ear. I can remember lying on the floor with my head to the side and I could see Jeff who was now curled up on his bed yelling, “I didn’t do it! I didn’t do it!” Dad came in and got the machine off of me. I was okay except for the fact that my ear was cut badly and was almost completely ripped off!

We pushed a towel to my ear and raced to the hospital. We lived quite some distance from it, but I remember sitting on my mom’s lap in the front seat and telling her, “Well, this is a silly thing to happen to a six-year-old* (*Mom Correction: I was six).” And then apparently I said something about how six-year-olds don’t cry and I didn’t cry anymore about it. (Awww… that’s probably the last thing I was that brave about!)

So, here comes the plastic surgery part. This all happened on a Saturday and my regular doctor was a Seventh Day Adventist, which means he was at church when we got there. So they called in the other available doc, who was a plastic surgeon. He reattached the ear and, all kidding aside, it was actually pretty good that he did it – you can hardly see the scar and I never had to have an additional surgery or anything. I do remember them giving me a huge handful of lollipops because I didn’t cry and he told me my mom would take me to McDonald’s.

And that’s my best birthday story so far. I hope I don’t have a better one by tonight! (knock on wood)

I’m sorry I don’t have pictures of it. I bet you’re sorry too.

I did something for you yesterday. I bet you weren’t even aware of it, but that’s how giving I am.

Let’s review:

That’s the temp outside yesterday – and so far today. What I’m now wondering is how we came about owning such an overachieving thermometer – -60? 120? Where? When? Is that possible? (Update: I’ve been thinking… maybe he is just a very very nice thermometer – reminding me that it’s never as bad as it could be.)

Anyway, what did I do for you, my friends? I did laundry. Because I thought, hm, if I do all the loads of laundry that are waiting for me, I could potentially raise the outside temp one degree with the dryer exhaust.

That’s right, I saved you from -21 degrees. You’re welcome.

Stay warm.

(My warm cat. Tempo Cat-erina.)