Thursday, October 30, 2008

Wednesday in Review

I'm sitting here in a veritable stupor. Even though everyone slept until 7:30 (are you paying attention? 7:30!!!! Not 5, not 4, not 6:45, 7:30), having to actually get out bed and stumble down to the kitchen to make my own tea facing down hoards of miniature shouting angry people (by that I mean my own children) is still daunting.

I deeply appreciate all the prayers for Matt's safe traveling. However, I neglected to ask for prayer that Matt would take the right set of keys with him.

Yesterday morning, having woken up at 5 and spent what seemed days preparing and organizing for our morning with Classical Conversations, I experienced sheer terror at precisely 7:50 when I took the keys off the hook and found them to be the wrong keys. I called Matt in hysteria and then remembered that, by the grace of God, one of the families in CC lives four blocks from us. I called in her in a fit of apologetic embarrassment and she very graciously agreed to come get us on her way.

So the morning progressed without other incident. Except that my own son could not see his way to sitting in his chair even for the slightest amount of time and eventually, by the end of the morning, was standing up in it shouting and weeping about the melting of the snow. Then he shouted and wept when I took his star and he lost the opportunity to pick a prize out of the prize bucket.

I was so shattered by the whole mess that when we got home I let everyone watch Curious George and Word Girl while I tried to figure out what to do about choir. Because there's also choir on Wednesdays, which requires a car with a key. After much phoning and gnashing of my own teeth, someone from the choir with a van volunteered to come get all of us.

Really, there's nothing like taking four small children to choir practice at night in winter. I bathed them all, stuffed them into warm pjs, stuffed them into coats, and then plonked them in front of this

while I filled bottles and found snacks and looked for the list of music. Choir itself involved holding the baby (first on the back and then the front), moving E closer to and then farther away from the heater as her internal temperature dictated (she sat with her eyes shut and her hands folded in holy contemplation. Later I discovered she was thinking about how much candy she expected to receive and not about the music, or God), catching my boys by their collars as they ran laps around the church to tell them to NOT run laps around the church, finally forcing them to sit in the library because they couldn't Not run laps around the church, only to hear one wail (loud enough for everyone to hear) "It hurts my feelings when you make me sit in here."

So I am sitting here in a stupor. Pretty soon I'm going to move my stupor to the school table where I will wrestle my children into learning whatever it is we're supposed to be learning today. And then I'm going to make them Clean!!! NOW, no don't dawdle, no stop touching your brother, CLEAN!!! because Daddy is coming home and if he delays at all, well, we'll see.

Oh, and if you're in Binghamton and you're planning to go to the Noon Eucharist today, its canceled, because I can't get there.

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

The snow is snowing all around

If you have a moment, I'd be SO Grateful if you'd pray for Matt who is driving through an unexpected snowstorm. Due to global warming (ha) it is unhelpfully cold and snowing, even though its only October and usually we don't get snow until January, unless we're trying to fly somewhere around Christmas time, and then it snows at Christmas. I have all our curtains shut trying to keep the wind out of this creaky old house, and am digging out a space heater for the school room. Meanwhile Matt is trying to drive on roads that haven't been plowed because no one thought it would snow This Much.

Monday, October 27, 2008

The Rev. Dr. Robert Carlson

I'm sorry, I'm going a little nuts with the pictures. Here is my dad being ordained by Archbishop Nzimbi in the Cathedral in Nairobi. Looks like it was a beautiful day. We're so jealous that we weren't there. As you can see, there are various bishops (whom Matt and I met at GAFCON) and my mom and dad and the church. Just for the purposes of needless bragging, Matt and I met Archbishop Nzimbi (I'm sure he doesn't remember) by the Sea of Galilee at the place where Jesus is believed to have reinstated Peter. We were on the same bus on our day around the lake. I dabbled my toes in the water and thought that it must have been an awfully huge relief to be out of Jerusalem after all the madness, eating breakfast and having Jesus say that he loves you. His Grace was very pleasant. I am particularly enamored of his beautifully embroidered hat in the picture below. And my dad's hat is very fetching as well.

A Little Fuel for the Fire...

Sunday, October 26, 2008

Before the Closing of the Day

I have been angling for a moment at the computer ALL DAY to congratulate my dad (without his permission) on his ordination today, in Nairobi, to the deaconate.
I googled him just now and found this nice picture.

Congratulations Daddy. Joyce stood up in church today and told everyone all about it at the 10:30, and she's had everyone sign a card, which I have unfortunately misplaced. As soon as I find it, I'll send it to you. We look so forward to you coming back and doing an extensive time at Good Shepherd while we (and by that I mean I) go on vacation (just kidding).

In honor of you we've had a normal and unremarkable Sunday. E continues sick and so stayed with her favorite person in the world while the rest of us went to church. After church, having missed all the festivities, she sat with us on the couch while we debriefed about the day, offering strong and basically sound opinions about everything.
"If people don't come to choir practice" she said, "than we should go to their houses and practice them there."
"Everyone should come to church. Its an important and meaningful thing to do."
"Everyone should love God."

I am watching anxiously for signs of sickness in the rest of the brood. R looked pale this afternoon and A complained of a light tummy ache. Matt, OF COURSE, will be gone all week on some vital, if badly timed, affair. I can see it already-the long nights, the unannounced projectile vomiting, the weeping and moaning. "When are we going to die?" asked A this afternoon.
"I have no idea" I said, "Hopefully Jesus will come back tomorrow and we won't have to think about it."
"But if we do, we'll go to heaven for a while" he said.
"Yes, we'll go to heaven until he comes back to earth and gives us all our bodies back" I said.
"My tummy hearts" he said.
Well, a tummy ache can be bad. Hopefully not THAT bad.

Friday, October 24, 2008


And there goes another blog free week! Wow.
As I sit here, trying to gin up the moral fiber to shove two babies into clothes for their day out with their favorite people, and listening to the gentle whine of older children having to work when they don't want to, its hard to remember even what happened all week.

We did eat well.
Monday (or maybe Tuesday?) I made apple cake, apple dumplings, apple sauce and apple muffins.
Monday evening I made Curried Haddock and cauliflower. The haddock was so divine. I have no idea how to cook fish, really, so I liberally sprinkled it with breadcrumbs, salt and pepper, and generic curry powder, shoved it in a pan seriously filled with butter, let it go about a minute on both sides, lathered it with cream, let it go another minute and a half, sprinkled cilantro all over and then tried to resist eating half before it made it to the table. The cauliflower I also lathered in curry powder and steamed (well, I didn't really bother to steam it, I just put a little water in the bottom of the pan and put the lid on and cooked it desperately until it was tender). I quietly ate the cauliflower all by myself all week, without mentioning to Matt that there was any left.

The children, on the other hand, have been veritable pills. Tuesday, in the course of school, they (by that I mean E and A) both began to weep over the thought that they might have to someday leave home and go to college. I can't even remember how the subject came up. I'm flattered, of course. But I also have no idea how to explain to a six year old and a four year old that 1. college is a good thing (basically) 2. honestly, they don't have to go if they don't want to but now is not the time to make that decision and 3. what exactly college is and why so many people actually leave home to participate in it. I also had several moments of panic that they might never leave home.
E: I'm not ever going to leave you, mommy.
Me: I'm so glad to hear that. Do you think you might ever get married and have a family?
E: Of Course. I'll have a husband and 10 babies and we will live with you.
A: Me too.
Me: Oh, well, that will be cozy.

Thursday at 1:30am E woke up with a fever, woke up her sister also, and suckered me into sleeping on the end of her bed, baby in arm (isn't one a little early for all out temper tantrums in the middle of the night?). Needless to say we didn't do any school yesterday. A listened to the memory work cd all afternoon per his own request. E sat on the couch wrapped in a blanket and looked soulful and pale.

I doubt she'll be up for much today but thankfully the fever is gone.

And, of course, I'm very discouraged by this news. It doesn't make things at all good for the rest of us in the state of New York. So, I will be fighting that anxious thought done all day while I try to focus on this moment and the various piles of laundry and dishes it holds.

Saturday, October 18, 2008

Psalm One

Blessed is the man
who walks not in the counsel of the wicked,
nor stands in the way of sinners,
nor sits in the seat of scoffers;
but his delight is in the law of the Lord,
and on his law he meditates day and night.
He is like a tree
planted by streams of water
that yields its fruit in its season,
and its leaf does not wither.
In all that he does, he prospers.
The wicked are not so,
but are like chaff that the wind drives away.
Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment,
nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous;
for the Lord knows the way of the righteous,
but the way of the wicked will perish.

This is the first psalm I remember memorizing as a child and I still derive endless satisfaction from drawing boring looking trees and tracing the words over and over. Sometimes I try even try to make the words themselves into a tree. The simplicity of the picture-the restfulness of the water, of a tree that doesn't go anywhere, isn't dashing after better water or a different kind of water-endlessly sustains me.

The Tree hearkens to the True Vine. The True Vine, Jesus, is the perfectly righteous man. He never walked in the council of the wicked, slowing to stand around and discover the allure of the way of the sinners, finally sitting to scoff. He was never moved. He was always righteous, always perfect. The True Vine is strong, eternal, changeless, planted.

And life connected to the True Vine is sure, planted, sustained, not hustling here are there, distracted by every small thing. Sometimes, by the end of the day, I am thirsty. I haven't stopped to drink water all through the afternoon, and I haven't stopped to pray. I have run after too many things and sin and wickedness have crept in. Sometimes, in my thirst, I drink the wrong thing-irritation, impatience, dissatisfaction. But because I am found in Jesus, because he is the source of my life, even though I may always be trying to run away or move too much, Jesus himself keeps me planted. He has fixed me to himself. He helps me to stand upright, sure, faithful, rooted, rested. In this small daily moment by moment work, Jesus blows the chaff out of me. He helps me to stand under his judgment, rooting out wickedness and sin, bringing me into the congregation of the righteous.

Friday, October 17, 2008

Friday in Fall

So we didn't read Alfred the King, in spite of our best intentions. Well, E's intention was NOT to read it and I became distracted from my tireless pursuit to make her read it. Thing is, she's reading, rather well actually, but without any interest at all. The whole point hasn't clicked and I'm gathering that I can't make it click, no matter how much I talk about how exciting and wonderful reading is. Amazingly, she would rather read lists of words on boring pieces of paper than an actual book with pictures. Such a strange child.

Meanwhile, E and A are retaining vasts amounts of disconnected information and enjoying it very much-the timeline, the english grammar facts/definitions, the dates and history sentences, the timeline, the catechism, the bible verses, the parts of the body, the latin. To be perfectly honest (I hate it when people say that), I'm totally surprised. I'm more than surprised. I happened to glance at my IHip today (I can't even remember what IHip stands for) and found that we are on track for where I planned to be, even though I feel like (feeeeeeeeelings, nothing more than feeeeeeeeeelings) we're always behind.

As I just said, it surprises me. I'm surprised, shocked even. I guess I just imagined it being so Awful and so Hard. When you say something like, 'Well, we're homeschooling this year,' to someone who knows you have four small children and a 40 hour a week job at church they look so Appalled, so Afeared for your sanity that you go home thinking, 'I must be crazy, this was a terrible idea'.

This very thing happened to me this week. I wondered to myself, 'How am I doing this?' And I discovered the following things about our life.

A. (because we're learning the alphabet). We're very focused on the things that are really important to us, like: home made bread, home made stock, home made food in general. So a day in the kitchen is essential to the functioning of the household through the week.
B. the children are perfectly capable of cleaning and picking up after themselves so I will not waste time doing it better after they have done a bad job. I will just sit down in the chaos and ignore the veritable desert of crumbs on the floor, admonishing them that they will have to do it tomorrow since they did not do it today.
C. Church is more important that sports. So we are not probably going to do a lot of sports. Maybe a little here and there, but basically its going to be a life lived in church. E, actually, is having an hour of ballet a week and loving it. But basically, because we're not running all over creation, we have time to help clean the church, worship in the church, make pies for the church, play in the church and color pictures all the live long day in church.
D. Classical Conversations is SO HELPFUL. Its keeping us on track and providing structure for the difficult things like science, art and music.
E. E and A are recovering the very good relationship they lost a little last year when she was in regular school. They were glued to each other before that, but, after a year of being endlessly on the bus, exhausted from relating to so many different people, they seemed unable to get a long. Now they work together, play together and pray together and are glued back at the hip, only now they have little ones to include and love and its very pleasant to watch.
F. Being with your own children for the whole day is not as awful as one would expect.
G. I'm really glad we dispensed with the whole counting thing. If a child can come at '3' or '10' they might as well come right away. Of course then you have to teach counting another way.
H. Some days are better than others but every day that we do school all day is a good day.
I. I can count well enough for a first grader.
J. I'm a better singer than I thought.
K. I can play the tin whistle better than a four year old on my first try.
L. I'm a lot less lazy than I was seven years ago.
M. My children will be a lot less lazy when I'm through with them.
N. Sometimes its easier to remember the timeline when you're dressed up as Spiderman.
O. Babies are a serious pain when you're trying to delicately glue little pieces of paper together in exactly the right way.
P. It is imperative that everyone goes to bed early on friday night so that I can watch that repulsive program The Soup. There, I said it, I watch TV sometimes, even bad TV.
Q. We actually have more order and structure than we did with a regular school routine. I am not required to get up while it is still dark to make lunch and stand out in the cold waiting for the bus. I can slowly wake up and start school at a reasonable hour when the sun is up and everyone is in their right mind.
R.If Matt didn't cook on the weekends, I would loose my small mind.
S. Homeschooling IS a sacrifice but I can't remember what we gave up to do it. Must not have been that great, whatever it is.
T. I thought I would have to give up doing all the stuff I do at church, but actually, I just needed to do more work in less time (as in being less lazy, see above). Surprise.
U. I really enjoy making charts and books. I don't enjoy reading the Math text to find out what we're doing next.
V. I don't have the energy to read Any books at all except for Calvin and Hobbes.
W. I didn't need to worry that Matt would never read to the children in the evening. It turns out, he just wouldn't read boring things. Now that he's reading them Narnia, he Never forgets and rearranges his whole life to be there at that moment.
X. I probably don't need to worry at all, although its such an essential habit for me, I don't see giving it up this year.
Y. Probably more people could homeschool if they put their mind to it, just like more people could go to church if they put their mind to it.
Z. Gluing leaves to pieces of paper is a legitimate art project and it doesn't need to wait until I know what all the leaves are before we do it.
Well, isn't that a nice cliche, I made it all the way to Z.

Various Notes Leading in no Direction

1. For those of you waiting on my ordination story/thingamabob, I was stuck for a while, but I started writing again last night (only by hand, stupidly) so its back in the works. I have no idea how long it will take me. Its turning out to be enormous so I will have to spend a long time editing.

2. The baby is screaming after pouring cheerios all over her head. She turned One on Wednesday. I will have pictures sometime this weekend of the fabulous present she received. (Thank heaven's she's reached the magical age where she's fully "human" and Peter Singer can waltz in to do her in-as if a month ago she wasn't "human" or is somehow "more conscious now". What malarkey.)

3. Matt still hasn't helped me move that blankityblank dresser and so E's room is turning into a veritable mountain of clothes as we stagger through baskets of clean clothes trying to find things to wear each day.

4. I will shortly be posting about homeschooling and how its going, only not right now because the baby is screaming (see above).

5. I've started writing small reflections on my psalm each day. My hope is maybe post some of it here, but again, lots of editing required. AND, if you're not interested, well, never mind, when have I ever let that bother me.

Monday, October 13, 2008

Columbus Day

The leaves are really peaking today. This year is by far the most beautiful since we've been here. Its just stunning.

My house, on the other hand, not so stunning. I let the boys eat cinnamon buns on top of me in bed this morning, which means at 10 o'clock tonight, or whenever I happen to get to bed, I'll have to strip all the sheets off because there's no way I'm living with all those crumbs for a whole night. And the kitchen is a wreck because at 5:30 Matt and I decided that we HAD to celebrate Columbus day with meatballs and cheesecake.

And the baby is teething horrendously (you can search back to my posts during Holy Week for my thoughts on this matter). She continues in abject misery.

E, after being told to pick up the living room, said, 'I'm having a bad day'.
'No you're not' I said, 'You're having a perfectly fine day.'
'Oh,' she said.

So, I'm sitting here next to this brilliant red tin whistle, ream of papers in hand, ready to go. By morning I will be playing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star to perfection.

Saturday, October 11, 2008

The 10th of October

tree by Joyce Carlson

It is my considered and unscientific opinion that the fall color always peaks on October 10th. Obviously, some years are better than others and sometimes the effect is delayed But I will always insist on the tenth, that the color is peaking.

The 10th always sticks in my mind like an unhinged anniversary, one of those dates of no significance that is so significant.
It may be that it was the day that half the boys in our senior class were expelled from boarding school. They were doing something awful (its hard to remember exactly all these years later) like listening to very bad rock music. Maybe they were smoking pot too. I think, chiefly, they had bad attitudes and didn't want to be in boarding school (as indeed we all did) and so they managed to get themselves removed leaving the grand total of senior boys in our senior class at Five.

Subsequently, I have always connected this event with the leaves peaking in the Southern Tier. For a long time I thought Matt's birthday also was on the 10th. I kept passing by the 7th and finding him looking reproachfully at me, 'Aren't we going to celebrate my birthday?'
'Yes! Absolutely, on the tenth'. Very difficult of him to insist on its being on the 7th.

So, in commemoration of this important day, Matt and I went out to a fancy restaurant last night and to coffee afterward. I had duck confi and Matt had monk fish with shitake mushrooms in a red wine sauce.

Thursday, October 09, 2008

The Dragon and the Lady

I found this interesting arrangement this afternoon. I think it shows remarkable perception into the nature of all things. I don't know from whence it came (as in which child). But I've left it, for the moment, as a cautionary warning to us all.

Wednesday, October 08, 2008

The Rain is Raining All Around

This is the problem with leaving blogging till the end of the day. Too many different things have happened. Too many different thoughts have flittered through my mind.
There are a lot few Obama signs around here than I would have expected.
I'm really homesick for Oregon. Its raining gently. Its balmy out. And I just caught the end of NPR's From the Top whereon the Portland Youth something or other were playing Mozart something or other so beautifully. I have gone on for several days feeling that I am continuing on in a strange land, this strange Northeastern land. I've settled down, basically, and look out at the same sky line day after day, but it will never be my "home" in the way that heaven is, or Farakala or Multnomah Blvd in Portland. What is so strange is that This is my children's home. This will be their fixed mark when they consider what is most normal and basic and wonderful in the world. All the places that are my home will be a wilderness for them.
The fruitfly thing works SO WELL!!! Thank You!!! We're collecting vats of them all over the house. I even went out and bought bananas, knowing there is now an escape.
I'm really glad we're homeschooling. Six weeks in, I couldn't be happier. We're ticking along, basically, trying to keep up with all my various lists, and its so nice. Its remarkably interesting to spend all day every day with my own children. And, so much like the Herdmans, I can see that the youngest child will be the smartest, having learned all that the other children have to offer.
I've got a kitchen full of groceries to put away, and then a large mug of hot milk with a drizzle of Brandy.

Tuesday, October 07, 2008

Happy Birthday

My older and wiser husband is turning....really old today. His hair is already half grey and he has to eat less and work out more to keep his boyish figure. But he's far and away handsomer than the day I married him.

Sunday, October 05, 2008

Sunday was made for...Jesus

It has been on my mind for some time to describe for you an average Sunday. Many years ago there was an advertisement on TV showing comfortable middle class people, probably a couple, sitting at a comfortable kitchen table drinking designer coffee and eating something healthy and reading…the New York Times, back, assumably, when people read the New York Times. There was probably some comfortable music in the background and then a voice coming through the TV announcing to all us schlops who didn’t know yet that ‘Sunday was made for the New York Times’.

Our Sundays are so far opposite of that commercial that it’s hard to believe that we’re on the same planet, certainly not of the same world view.

So here’s how it normally shakes out, starting, of course, with Saturday.

Saturday morning Matt and I are always under the mistaken impression that we can sleep till 7. We desperately hang on, fending the children off with bananas and bottles of milk, but eventually its just not worth it and we all give up and, well, Matt gets up while I drink tea. Then suddenly, inspite of having woken up so early, I’m late for Bible Study and flinging myself and two or three children into the car to get to church. It is Always my intention to print off the bulletin after Bible Study, but instead I usually hang around gabbing and then decide, foolishly, that I’ll “come back later in the afternoon” because “I just need a small lunch” and a chance to “do a few things”. All of which means that I come home, eat some delicious sandwich that Matt has invented, fall asleep on the couch or get stuck catching up on blogs I missed during the week. About 3 or 4 in the afternoon I suddenly realize that the house has become wrecked and supper is almost upon us and that “it would be better just to get up early on Sunday and run over to print”. Matt recklessly agrees to this idea almost every Saturday afternoon. As supper is in progress I generally simultaneously start making some new item for the atrium, organize clothes and shoes for the morning, make various lists, trim bangs and do baths (although sometimes I’m able to manipulate Matt into doing the baths). Then I’m up late painting little wooden people, or finishing up flash-like cards, or gluing bits of things together, all for the atrium. Matt and I fall late into bed.

So you can see what kind of morning we are set up to have. There’s no “reading the paper” or “enjoying a cup of coffee” or “eating breakfast”.

Matt wakes up at 4 to practice and fine tune his sermon. He always has milk all lined up in the fridge the night before and when he brings me tea at 5 or sometimes 6 when he forgets the time, the tray is laden with milk for all the kiddos. Milk in the morning, for children, is like coffee for grown ups, if it’s not the first thing, the day starts off Very Badly. More often than not, its 6, not 5, at which point I am in a total panic, lying in bed under the pillow, staring at the clock and thinking, ‘if I don’t get up in the next 3 and a half minutes, I’m going to be in serious trouble’. I manage to fend of reality as long as possible by pouring one saucer of milk for Frances (E’s cat), sleeping while she drinks it, pouring a second saucer of milk for my cat, sleeping while she drinks it (because I wouldn’t want to disturb either cat by pouring my own milk), drinking my own tea, and then running around hysterically waking up and dressing all the children. Meanwhile, instead of calmly and reasonably finishing up his sermon, printing it out and getting ready for church, Matt often rewrites whole sections, or stops to admire and play with the children so that very often 7:30 has come and gone and we are Not in the car breaking the speed limit to church but rather still finding collars, collar buttons, hair bows (because I picked the wrong one out the night before and everybody is crying), lists and Sunday school material. And of course, when I haven’t printed the bulletin the night before, and haven’t gotten up early, I’m madly and desperately printing and folding while the 8 o’clockers arrive.

That is the critical moment. If I can get all the bulletins done and the readings printed off, and the 10:30 bulletin humming out of the machine by 8am precisely, the service starts and calm rolls down like an ever rolling stream. The children ride around the parish hall in cars and push toys eating bananas, toast, the rest of the Friday Morning Men’s Breakfast, and strawberry wafer cookies. The best person in the world pours boiling water over 3 bags of tea as I emerge from the office, successful in my efforts. I fuss with my Material and eventually wander up to the atrium.

This morning, as I read ‘God Who Has No Hands’ to my class I listened to E and A arguing loudly with each other about the nature of the Good Shepherd. Their argument displayed perfectly the difference between a 3-6 year old child and a 6-12 year old child.
A: The Good Shepherd is a Boy! He is a Boy!
E: I know he is, but my friend Julia is like him.
A: No, because she is a girl and the Good Shepherd is a boy!
E: Yes, but she is kind, like the Good Shepherd, and she cares about many things.
A: No, she is a girl.
At which point the catechist intervened. E should really move to level two but she would be all by herself. I think I will read her ‘God Who Has No Hands’ this week.

After Sunday School I am told many things by many different people which I try to write on One piece of paper, so that will remember later. Things like: next Sunday evening I will need to go to church to help make 25 apple pies for the Harvest dinner, or one EM has had to stop that ministry for a season for health reasons and it would be really great if we could train the three new people who want to learn This Week sometime so that we don’t run into trouble, or everyone should go take as many well ripe bananas as they can from the church kitchen with which to make banana bread, if they want to. At the same time I am trying to hustle my own children into the service, make my way to sing with the choir, count the congregation, encourage Someone to turn on the heat in the building, get the tween girls sitting quietly in the front row poised to take notes for the sermon and make eye contact with Matt that we are all on track. This morning someone removed the healing oil away from its spot so that before praying for anyone during communion, I had to wander around looking for it, dragging an angry toddler behind me. I managed to sing half the communion hymn. After the service I am told many more things by many people but usually there is cake, and another blessed fresh pot of strong black tea.

We generally make it home between two and three in the afternoon. Today we went to visit a lady in the nursing home on the way home, all six of us. And then all the children stood on the fireplace and loudly sang ‘Jesus in the Morning, Jesus in the Noontime, Jesus in the Evening’ or something. They heard another chapter of the Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe and went to bed. And now I’m lying here waving away fruit flies, stupid stupid fruit flies which are Everywhere in Every house in this town like some vile plague. I’m going to post this and go to bed. Sunday is not made for the New York Times.

Saturday, October 04, 2008

I'm Back, I Think, I'm Pretty Sure

Hello All
I know its been a crying age since I've posted and I vastly appreciate the emails and comments and phone calls, even, inquiring as to my negligence and, how do you call it, laziness?, in regard to this blog. There's no great interesting reason for my absence. I sort of got busy, and then when I realized how long it had been, it became daunting to know where to start, and so the days have flowed gently by while I've looked every morning antagonistically at my computer, sometimes not even checking email so that I wouldn't have to lay my eyes on my woeful and reproachful blog.
So, I'm back. I've just handed baby an ancient and well loved china doll to keep her off my computer for a moment. She is sitting singing 'dadadadada' and poking its eyes and then laughing. She is walking everywhere now, throwing herself headlong into the world, bowlegged and apparently intoxicated (not really, she just would never pass the walking in a straight line test).
The rest of them are looking for their Good Shepherd shirts so we can all go to the church cleaning day.