My soon-to-be 5 year-old daughter has been up to a lot in the cute department. Since yesterday was St. Patrick's Day, I guess we'll call it her short shenanigans.
Let's start with math and vocabulary. Last week, she told my wife, "Mom, we have a pre-dic-a-ment!" When asked why, she said, "Well, we have two tortillas and daddy wants one, and I want one, and Bubba wants one. We have a pre-dic-a-ment!" Yes, we did.
On Sunday, she pointed out when someone used "elf-control." This comes in handy for Santa.
Today, she was dressed as a queen, complete with crown, scepter and necklace. After my wife commented on her appearance, she said, "No, Mom. You're supposed to say [it with] a English accident!" Thats it. No more Mr. Bean for her.
Tonight, she was singing Happy Birthday to Clifford the Big Red Dog, zoo style,
Happy birthday to you
You live in a zoo
You smell like a dog
Aaaand you barf like one too! (she honestly meant bark)
You'd think I'd be able to get one of these on video.
Please also pray for my friend, Chad. He was in a workshop accident today and his left hand was injured by a table saw. The doctor who performed the surgery to repair the damage said that this is a "devastating" injury for Chad's calling. They are already preparing his family for months of recover and months of physical therapy before they know how bad the damage truly is. He's out of surgery and waking up now.
Please pray for the emotional impact of this to not crush what God's been doing in Chad's life. He's got a great future and calling, but this puts everything in doubt. Pray that inflammation disappears and that his hand will be perfectly healed in God's timing.
This year, my bride and I will be turning 35. I guess that’s why I’ve been thinking of my grandma lately. It’s because I’m getting “older.” I’ve reached the place where 7 year-olds think you’re old and the really smart ones tell you that you’re five times as old as they are. Most of them live on to reach age 8.
I just finished the last of the 7UP that I picked up for our youngest who was sick yesterday. 7UP and Lays potato chips were staples on the summer days when I would come over to Grandma’s. She’d put a serving tray with chips and a small glass of 7UP on the floor where I could watch TV and she sat on the couch. She lived on a street where nothing ever happened and it was a cinch to take a walk down to the park or even over to the cemetery to plant petunias on her parent’s grave.
I never realized that she had her own plot there until the summer after Grandpa died.
Grandma passed away several years ago, but a familiar sight, sound, or in this case, a taste brings me back to that place where the days were easy and the chores were light. We’d dig up planters and weed the lawn, mow, prune, bundle, sweep, whatever until she said we were done and then we’d go in for some 7UP and some chips. It was work, but I loved showing off to Grandma how strong I was and how I was able to do more than she thought.
My son likes to do that now. I see the same smile and twinkle in his eye that I had at his age. Could it be I’m halfway to seeing my own grandkids?
I’m a dad now, a grandpa-to-be (eventually). I will be old someday, Lord willing. By that time, I will have accumulated more nuggets of wisdom like, “Just because the package says that a compact fluorescent bulb will last 5 years, it doesn’t mean that half of them won’t short out a few months down the road.” I caught myself thinking that today and it struck me how old I sounded. It was an odd feeling knowing that I was starting to think thoughts like my grandparents used to.
On the other hand, Grandma is in heaven. She’s been through orientation and is now warmly greeting friends that she hasn’t seen in decades. She’s young inside and so glad to be there. How do I know? I just do. It’s a beautiful place to be who you were always meant to be. She’s home. I don’t look back and long for the days of my youth. They were happy memories, but just that. When I cross the finish line in heaven—and I hope I finish well—I just want to be there with my family and friends. I’m not looking back; I’m looking forward. And If I have to get old to do it, bring it on.
I haven't done something in a long time. I haven't done some blank sheet writing. It's where you simply start writing and go wherever. It's fun, and sometimes very helpful when you're dealing with writer's block. So, here we go!
Interesting line that I read once was, "What do you add to instant karma?" I remember instant coffee from my parents' days. I'm such a coffee snob that I won't dare try the stuff. Instant anything in my mind is very sketchy. Incidentally, what happens when you add water to milk powder is not the same thing that happens when you add water to baby powder.
It's a long day today. I guess "Time flies...." holds true. I hate those long January days when nothing is unusual. It's such a scale-down from December. It's almost an anti-holiday month. We always wish each other Happy New Year, and then nobody has a holiday for a month and a half. Unless you count Groundhog Day. Last, I checked, I'm not one of those, so I don't have cause for a happy February 2nd. Neither did Bill Murray, but he had an awesome Feb 3rd that year.
We don't live like that, but we should. That's awfully Mary Poppinn-ish, but it's true. The problem with cheerfulness in the human condition is that we constantly take good things for granted. Like for me, I assume the coffee will be there.
God, I love coffee. I love it more than tea, but only slightly more. I think that makes me as Scottish as my roots. My friend says that his experience in Scotland right after Braveheart came out was, "Hey, you're from America! We hate the British too!" What an experience that must have been.
Speaking of the Scottish, I've been watching this new series called Hot Rocks with Iain Stewart. His Scottish brogue is warming and he somehow ties everything in the Pacific Rim to geology. Thus the title, Hot Rocks.
Speaking of rock, my friend's daughter bought a hat with "The Beatles" logo on it quite a while ago. The same day she bought it, she tacked an extra S on the end of "The Beatles." I'm not sure if she's rhythmically challenged or if she's merely grateful for enduring fewer beatings. My guess is the latter because she does play the guitar, although you never know.
My son thinks that my typing skills are amazing. He sees me typing while staring at the ceiling and thinks I'm somehow doing a trick. Ah, I remember hunt-and-peck. Thank God, I learned to type--barely--when I was 10 years old. It kept me from going insane. I had a learning disability, and writing by hand was very difficult for me.
Since we're back at the station where this train of thought began (typing), I suppose I should get off here. Free association, anyone?
I'm a food tourist. If I'm someplace unique, I like to try the most unique thing on the menu that the region is known for. I've eaten Dungeness crab in the northwest only a few miles away from the bay they were caught. I've had alligator tail and frog legs in Florida and grits and gumbo in N'awlins, Louisiana. I've also had the unique experience of sampling habanero (HAH-bin-yerro) salsa in the southwest. Jalapenos, even at their fire-roasted peak, don't come close to the heat and outright discomfort of those peppers. I still like local delicacies like elk, venison, and my favorite, buffalo jerky.
I don't travel as much as I used to, however, and my odds of traveling to Japan in the near future are very remote, so I availed myself of a sushi bar nearby when we went to celebrate a friend's birthday. I ordered sashimi, the real deal. No rice and fish skins, this was raw fish with wasabi (not likely hon-wasabi, though). I actually can understand those people on this side of the Pacific that enjoy such a meal, provided it's clean and boned well. Mine was, and it now has me wondering if I can make it back there some time to sample some more tasty fish. I couldn't help but think of the Lord of the Rings films and Gollum's preference for juicy, sweet fish.
