Observations

How is it that taper candles are only to be found in Giant?

...that outside seating seems to be synonymous with "smokers section"?

...that my son reminds me of Curious George? (and should I be worried about that?)

...that the laundry never ends?

...that Little Man can be perfectly fine until you put him in bed at which point his teething is evidently unbearable?

...

pastoral ponderings?

The Little Man and I went down to the Potomac this morning for a walk and had such a great time that he fell asleep in the car on the way home even before I turned off his really annoying musical mirror that plays such classics as "Head and Shoulders" and "Here We Go Looby Loo".

Mostly we nature watched. We saw a slender white heron hiding in the marsh reeds, multiple river birds sunning on sundry logs, Canadian geese, and an adorable snapping turtle (I think it was a snapping turtle--it was the size of the Little Dude--does that make it a snapping turtle?). We spent thirty minutes walking, studiously avoiding the bikers yelling "LEFT" as they swerved past a mere hair's breadth away, and then went down to the river to sit for a while. And continue our observations. Little Man and I smelled the freshly cut summer grass and watched the dragonflies flit around in electric blue slivers of excitement. When we felt we could absorb no more, we got back in the car and headed home. He took the aforementioned nap while I listened to a mix the Man made me when we were dating and read Erma Bombeck at the stop lights. Evidently, nature didn't have a long-term positive effect on my maturity level.

All in Good Fun...

Taking Oswald to the vet is a bit like that old brain teaser about the fox, the goose, and the bag of grain. You can take one of the three in the canoe with you at a time. How do you get across the lake?

I've got: the cat (in the cat carrier that can't be held by the handle or it breaks), the baby (happily barfing on everything in sight), the overflowing diaper bag, and the stroller (which is building some serious back muscles being pulled in and out of the trunk). All of that goes in the car to drive five minutes to the cat clinic just to be unloaded again. And no matter how cute Little Man is and no matter how much I want Oswald to not be dying of some mysterious cat illness and no matter how good I am at pushing our stroller with one hand, at the end of the day I say: sink the canoe. Make a rug out of all the cat hair that got on you trying to put the cat in the carrier so that you can save its life, and sink the (bleep) canoe.

The Library, Erma, and Me

Insanity is hereditary. You can catch it from your kids.

-Erma Bombeck

The library saved me today. After being up most of the night with teething baby and self-induced insomnia and Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni, I grabbed the Man's overdue library book and Lord of the Flies (which I couldn't talk myself into rereading even for the sake of Dad's literature class), dumped Littles in the car seat, and headed out to the friendly and free land of borrowed books. Considering that I was crabby, cranky, and cross this morning and am now merely sleepy, sluggish, and sidetracked, I'd say the library did a pretty good job. I spent Little Man's nap time reading Erma Bombeck and have concluded that life is never so pulverized by a bad night's sleep to keep it from being worth laughing at. So I'm laughing. For now. But if there's a repeat performance tonight, plan B is in the works. And it includes caffeine, chocolate, and a lobotomy. For me. Not the baby.

Incidentally, my being tired required me to spell check this blog multiple times, but it in no way impaired my talent for alliteration.

Add a cup of coffee bought with the money I didn't have to spend on library fines (how could you fine this face?) and I think we're in business. Yay for book happiness!

On the Fly Addendum

I felt an unquenchable urge to write something (anything) this morning. But since I have an early morning vet appointment and I'm not yet showered, this is going to be as good as it gets. I should never drink coffee with breakfast on a rushed morning! Because I end up like this.

At any rate, the two main blogs I need to supplement today are the ones about the vacuum and the water buffalo (bet you thought I was done with that one, huh?). First for that instrument of torture, the vacuum. After reading my ill-fated blog post last week, my wonderful husband decided to get out the vacuum and try it again before I got home from my Southern escapades. And naturally, since he's smart, he figured out what was wrong with it. I hadn't cleaned it out. Ever. Since we bought it a year ago. I really wish I could upload the picture he sent me because the gunk that he pulled out of it. It was massive. In my defense, I didn't know that you were supposed to clean out vacuum cleaners. (J: where did you think everything went? M: I don't know... I guess I thought it imploded or evaporated or atomized... J: silence prefacing snorts of laughter). Continuing on in my defense, I didn't grow up with a vacuum cleaner and no one ever told me how to use one. I thought you just plugged it in, flipped the switch, and went with it. Evidently not. Amusingly enough, my mother-in-love expressed surprise that I hadn't burned up the engine. That was before she realized how rarely I vacuum.

On a more serious (and less embarrassing) note, the water buffalo! This is probably the only time a water buffalo will be more serious than a vacuum cleaner, so enjoy it... I recently found out from an covert source of information (my dad) that water buffalos were used in Iraq to baptize American soldiers who came to faith while fighting the War on Terror. I thought that was a pretty cool piece of water buffalo trivia, so I'm passing it on to you. Enjoy.

And now, I'm going to go jump in the shower, rubbing my feet over the newly vacuumed carpet (the Man is my hero) all the way to the bathroom.

July's Disappearing Act

How are we already halfway through this month? I've been blogless for the last few weeks because I've just been too busy hanging out with my family. My middle sister came to stay with me and the Man for a few days, and then we tootled down to stay a week with the rest of the family. The babies have bonded, but most of my time is spent trying to keep Littles from kicking his cousin in the face with his brace. I would provide pictures, but I'm not on my computer, so look for some to come in the future. Maybe. Why maybe? Because when I get home, I have a couple more weeks before the best nephew and his mommy (my oldest sister) come north to stay with us for a week, and I have to use that time to get my house up to that sister's cleanliness standards. Part of that includes figuring out why our vacuum sprays grit all over the apartment while running... Seriously, why does it do that?

In the meantime, I've been reading a lot (and I'm posting a ridiculously high recommendation for Paul E. Miller's book on prayer: A Praying Life), watching Little's teeth come in and bite me, and thinking about lots of deep things like spiritual growth and the future and my best friend-husband and perfectly frothed coffee. All that to say, I spend a lot of time watching for how God's writing this story, and I am absolutely fascinated by his plot line...including the slight of hand that whisked away July.