Lessons learned today....in no particular order.
1. Tie Dye does not wash off hands very well
2. Chocolate cups are not as easy to make as Pinterest would have you think.
3. Multiple stabs at balloon forms for chocolate cups will make said cups collapse.
4. Six year old boys will not spend more than 4 seconds shaking up a bag of ice to make ice cream in a bag. Their hands get cold.
5. Ice cream in a bag makes soft serve look like a brick.
6. It is really hot today.
7. Sticks and rocks make very nice "stencils" for tie dye shirts.
8. A floor covered in plastic eggs is tempting for 6 year old boys to kick eggs as far as possible.
9. Security guards are not pleased with kicked eggs.
10. Why would there be an exhibit of fish hanging from the ceiling and not expect 6 year old boys to swing them about and bump them into each other?
11. Security guards do not care for swinging fish.
12. Mellie and the boys look quite official in our Mellie Camp shirts.
13. 6 year old boys have about a 12% success rate in snapping non-fuzzy photos.
14. Children love splashing in water of any sort.
15. 6 year old boys can only go 12 1/2 minutes without a snack.
16. 6 year old boys don't care for writing in journals, but when someone insists, they do a better-than-adequate job.
17. 6 year boys will climb on anything...as high as they can go.
18. Great pleasure is found describing in detail the delicate places where chigger bites can be found.
19. If an adult leaves the room, 6 year old boys will just take their shirts off at the dining room table while eating lunch.
20. We have some work to do on our table manners before dining at The Hermitage Hotel.
21. I am very lucky to spend days in the presence of 6 year old boys.
Tuesday, June 19, 2018
Thursday, May 31, 2018
Oops, There Goes Another Rubber Tree.....
Day 3.
Honestly, yesterday by bedtime, I was only semi-conscious. I mean for dinner, Mr. L and I ate tiny burgers, no buns, slathered mayonnaise on his and mine wrapped in a piece of cheese....and I didn't even care.
Last night, in my delirium, a song came to me:
Just what makes that little old ant
Think he'll move that rubber tree plant
Anyone knows that ant can't
Move a rubber tree plant.
But, he's got high hopes, he's got high hopes
He's got high apple pie, in the sky hopes.
so any time you're gettin' low
'stead of lettin' go
Just remember that ant,
Oops, there goes another rubber tree
Oops, there goes another rubber tree
Oops, there goes another rubber tree plant!
So, I woke up with high hopes. I was at the grocery by 6:05 am to replenish snacks and to get something to fix for dinner for poor Mr. L. When the boys arrived, I told them we were starting our day a bit differently. We gathered on the white sofa in the living room, held hands, and I prayed. I prayed that we would all act like Jesus, that our only concern would be that the other person's needs were met before our own, that we would listen to what Mellie said, and that Mellie would not be grumpy because her knee hurts. There are those who would think that a dumb, self-serving prayer, and perhaps they would be right, but I believe The Lord cares about the details of our lives, and I needed some details of this day tended to by someone far more holy than I. It is almost 3:00 pm and, let me just say, every day of Mellie camp will begin with a petition for some Jesus attitude. I taught the song (a version of it) to the boys and they really enjoyed singing with me. Oops, there goes another rubber tree...
Krispy Kreme boasts the Hot Sign being on from 5:00 am to 10:00 am so we timed our visit there in anticipation of hot, melt-in-your-mouth glazed doughnuts. The only thing hot at Krispy Kreme this morning was the inside of the place. Apparently, their air-conditioner was on the fritz. For someone who keeps her thermostat on 68 degrees, it was a bit unpleasant to me, but my campers were not deterred and enjoyed, immensely, the decadent breakfast. Oops, there goes another rubber tree...
Off to the Downtown Library. Nashville has a most excellent library, and the children's section is delightful. There is a playhouse, a small climbing wall, a puppet theater, nooks and crannies and all sorts of wonderfulness. We had a talk about having good manners, not running, and being ever aware of the smaller children with a reminder that once they were the little ones, and now they are the big ones. As is typical, Simmy made friends with a group of other children and, today, Max enjoyed them as well.
Because Max is in a summer reading and activity program through the library, one of his activities is to put on a puppet show. We seized the opportunity. The puppet theater in the library is made to look like the Ryman Auditorium. There is quite an assortment of puppets available to create stories of every kind. The plot was a bit thin in our show ~ a skunk sprayed a turtle, the turtle fainted and The Grinch came along to make life even more difficult, but the turtle was unconscious, so only the panda and the fox had to deal with the skunk. The best stories come from true life they say, so I suspect too many days at Mellie's after the skunk sprayed this house was the impetus for the show. I politely applauded and then texted Max's mom to say that she can mark "have a puppet show" off the list of library activities. Oops, there goes another rubber tree....
Upon leaving the library, the boys wanted to get a souvenir. I took them to the free magazines, flyers, and newspapers that the library stocks. I told them they could each get two publications. Who knew Nashville Arts Magazine would be the six year old boys Playboy. Lots of giggling in the backseat over a guy without his shirt on and a "naked lady." Oops....just oops.
Afterward, we went to see Sheri for a brief moment so Max could tell her hi, then we came home for lunch and our art project for the day ~ t-shirts for Fizzy and the dads for Father's Day. I can't post pictures because we don't want the dads to see them, but they turned out better than I thought. We used bleach pens and an added bonus is my house smells clean. Oops, there goes another rubber tree....
By this time everyone was a bit tired so the campers watched the rest of the Planet Earth they fought through yesterday, we did a directed drawing, they wrote in their journals, and now they are out having "free-play." They are back inside and I continue to have high hopes for the next 40 minutes, when Simmy will be picked up. Max's parents are taking advantage of Mellie's Summer Camp of Excellence aftercare today, so he and I will read and he'll do some sewing before dinner. All in all, a much better day than yesterday. Oops, there goes another rubber tree plant!
So, for today and always, I wish you, high hopes, high hopes, high apple pie in the sky hopes!!
Honestly, yesterday by bedtime, I was only semi-conscious. I mean for dinner, Mr. L and I ate tiny burgers, no buns, slathered mayonnaise on his and mine wrapped in a piece of cheese....and I didn't even care.
Last night, in my delirium, a song came to me:
Just what makes that little old ant
Think he'll move that rubber tree plant
Anyone knows that ant can't
Move a rubber tree plant.
But, he's got high hopes, he's got high hopes
He's got high apple pie, in the sky hopes.
so any time you're gettin' low
'stead of lettin' go
Just remember that ant,
Oops, there goes another rubber tree
Oops, there goes another rubber tree
Oops, there goes another rubber tree plant!
So, I woke up with high hopes. I was at the grocery by 6:05 am to replenish snacks and to get something to fix for dinner for poor Mr. L. When the boys arrived, I told them we were starting our day a bit differently. We gathered on the white sofa in the living room, held hands, and I prayed. I prayed that we would all act like Jesus, that our only concern would be that the other person's needs were met before our own, that we would listen to what Mellie said, and that Mellie would not be grumpy because her knee hurts. There are those who would think that a dumb, self-serving prayer, and perhaps they would be right, but I believe The Lord cares about the details of our lives, and I needed some details of this day tended to by someone far more holy than I. It is almost 3:00 pm and, let me just say, every day of Mellie camp will begin with a petition for some Jesus attitude. I taught the song (a version of it) to the boys and they really enjoyed singing with me. Oops, there goes another rubber tree...
Krispy Kreme boasts the Hot Sign being on from 5:00 am to 10:00 am so we timed our visit there in anticipation of hot, melt-in-your-mouth glazed doughnuts. The only thing hot at Krispy Kreme this morning was the inside of the place. Apparently, their air-conditioner was on the fritz. For someone who keeps her thermostat on 68 degrees, it was a bit unpleasant to me, but my campers were not deterred and enjoyed, immensely, the decadent breakfast. Oops, there goes another rubber tree...
Off to the Downtown Library. Nashville has a most excellent library, and the children's section is delightful. There is a playhouse, a small climbing wall, a puppet theater, nooks and crannies and all sorts of wonderfulness. We had a talk about having good manners, not running, and being ever aware of the smaller children with a reminder that once they were the little ones, and now they are the big ones. As is typical, Simmy made friends with a group of other children and, today, Max enjoyed them as well.
Because Max is in a summer reading and activity program through the library, one of his activities is to put on a puppet show. We seized the opportunity. The puppet theater in the library is made to look like the Ryman Auditorium. There is quite an assortment of puppets available to create stories of every kind. The plot was a bit thin in our show ~ a skunk sprayed a turtle, the turtle fainted and The Grinch came along to make life even more difficult, but the turtle was unconscious, so only the panda and the fox had to deal with the skunk. The best stories come from true life they say, so I suspect too many days at Mellie's after the skunk sprayed this house was the impetus for the show. I politely applauded and then texted Max's mom to say that she can mark "have a puppet show" off the list of library activities. Oops, there goes another rubber tree....
Upon leaving the library, the boys wanted to get a souvenir. I took them to the free magazines, flyers, and newspapers that the library stocks. I told them they could each get two publications. Who knew Nashville Arts Magazine would be the six year old boys Playboy. Lots of giggling in the backseat over a guy without his shirt on and a "naked lady." Oops....just oops.
Afterward, we went to see Sheri for a brief moment so Max could tell her hi, then we came home for lunch and our art project for the day ~ t-shirts for Fizzy and the dads for Father's Day. I can't post pictures because we don't want the dads to see them, but they turned out better than I thought. We used bleach pens and an added bonus is my house smells clean. Oops, there goes another rubber tree....
By this time everyone was a bit tired so the campers watched the rest of the Planet Earth they fought through yesterday, we did a directed drawing, they wrote in their journals, and now they are out having "free-play." They are back inside and I continue to have high hopes for the next 40 minutes, when Simmy will be picked up. Max's parents are taking advantage of Mellie's Summer Camp of Excellence aftercare today, so he and I will read and he'll do some sewing before dinner. All in all, a much better day than yesterday. Oops, there goes another rubber tree plant!
So, for today and always, I wish you, high hopes, high hopes, high apple pie in the sky hopes!!
Wednesday, May 30, 2018
Ignore It
Day 2.
Wowza! Two boys? Not as laid back as one. Everybody, with the exception of Mellie, has cried at least once today; or if not cried, at least has had feelings wounded. Sometimes, it is really difficult to know why feelings were hurt. Usually, it's my fault, but, for the life of me, I don't know what I did. So, I mainly just ignore it until everybody is over it. Ignoring things is exhausting.
I started the day with high hopes. On the docket were an art project, a trip to Cheekwood, a second go at knitting (disaster), plastic canvas sewing, entries in our journal, and reading. One boy arrived in dismay and spent several minutes wailing upon arriving. I ignored it and used that time to explain the poured paint art project to the other. Eventually, the upset one ventured into the kitchen and decided, perhaps, he would participate. It may take 2 weeks for the projects to dry, but I think they turned out nicely. One, however, lamented that his was terrible and ugly. I ignored it.
Cheekwood was our next adventure, and for the most part it went brilliantly. Some sort of moping and hurt feelings occurred, but I was more interested in being sure that, in their enthusiasm neither boy plowed down a toddler nor a senior citizen. We were there all of about 8 minutes before there were cries of thirst and hunger. Do you have any idea how much a snack out of the vending machine at Cheekwood costs? I just ignored what was right in front of my face and bought them.
We made our way to the creek and ponds where the extraverted child attached himself to a trio of boys, aged 2 - 8. Their mom was quite entertained by the pretty much non-stop talking that went on. I had to remind Mr. Extravert that those other boys had an adult with them who would offer instructions on how to conduct themselves and that he could just relax and be a six year old. He dearly loves being "of service" whether his help has been solicited or not. He told me I had embarrassed him by saying that. The more introverted boy had a glorious time jumping in the creek and getting pretty much all around muddy and wet. What I thought would be a "throw away" day, weatherwise, turned out to be a perfectly beautiful day. I ignored the dark cloud moving our way, and we almost made it home without getting wet.
Home we came for lunch. One boy only ate snacks because, insult of all insults, he doesn't like my grilled cheese sandwiches. We worked some more on our table manners....it's not going well. Pretty much, the afternoon has somewhat fallen apart. One boy is worried to pieces that he's going to get in trouble for his wet shoes, the other is just pretty sure that nothing I say is of much consequence. I thought I had them comfortably cozied up in the den with all the couch cushions and pillows on the floor, tucked in with the "super sonic soft" blankets and big, fat, fluffy stuffed animals to watch an episode of Planet Earth. That lasted about 8 minutes. 8 minutes seem to be our limit today. Lots of yelling and begging for snacks etc. I tried to ignore it, instead, the TV is off and everyone has been relegated to the backyard...well, except, no one has gone there. I'm just ignoring it.
I am sure, once the little darlings have gone home, I will reflect upon the day and there will be more ups than downs. I've gotten several unsolicited and impromptu hugs and kisses. I'll take those every time. There have been quite a few "yes ma'ams" which I greatly appreciate. The truth is, they are six year old boys, very beautiful, intelligent, funny, active six your old boys and even the minutes that I find myself bumfuzzled, there is great joy. And, then as the Benedictine rule states, "always we begin again." Tomorrow is a new day with new plans. I'm sure it will be totally delightful.
Well, now they are acting as though they are doing me a favor because I said they could build something out of marshmallows and toothpicks. Being 6 must be really hard at times. Oh, my word, they are fighting over the marshmallows.
A conversation: Simeon: I'm going to make a roast.
Max: What's a roast
Simeon: It's a toothpick with lots of marshmallows stuck on it.
Another: Max: Let me tell you something Sim, pretty much everything that's bad for you tastes good.
Simeon: Do NOT tell me about the foot wheel. (An Uncle Marshall threat for those who eat too much sugar).
Made me laugh out loud. I do not want to ignore those little nuggets of gold. That is one reason I am blogging about our camp ~ so I will remember.
Wowza! Two boys? Not as laid back as one. Everybody, with the exception of Mellie, has cried at least once today; or if not cried, at least has had feelings wounded. Sometimes, it is really difficult to know why feelings were hurt. Usually, it's my fault, but, for the life of me, I don't know what I did. So, I mainly just ignore it until everybody is over it. Ignoring things is exhausting.
I started the day with high hopes. On the docket were an art project, a trip to Cheekwood, a second go at knitting (disaster), plastic canvas sewing, entries in our journal, and reading. One boy arrived in dismay and spent several minutes wailing upon arriving. I ignored it and used that time to explain the poured paint art project to the other. Eventually, the upset one ventured into the kitchen and decided, perhaps, he would participate. It may take 2 weeks for the projects to dry, but I think they turned out nicely. One, however, lamented that his was terrible and ugly. I ignored it.
Cheekwood was our next adventure, and for the most part it went brilliantly. Some sort of moping and hurt feelings occurred, but I was more interested in being sure that, in their enthusiasm neither boy plowed down a toddler nor a senior citizen. We were there all of about 8 minutes before there were cries of thirst and hunger. Do you have any idea how much a snack out of the vending machine at Cheekwood costs? I just ignored what was right in front of my face and bought them.
We made our way to the creek and ponds where the extraverted child attached himself to a trio of boys, aged 2 - 8. Their mom was quite entertained by the pretty much non-stop talking that went on. I had to remind Mr. Extravert that those other boys had an adult with them who would offer instructions on how to conduct themselves and that he could just relax and be a six year old. He dearly loves being "of service" whether his help has been solicited or not. He told me I had embarrassed him by saying that. The more introverted boy had a glorious time jumping in the creek and getting pretty much all around muddy and wet. What I thought would be a "throw away" day, weatherwise, turned out to be a perfectly beautiful day. I ignored the dark cloud moving our way, and we almost made it home without getting wet.
Home we came for lunch. One boy only ate snacks because, insult of all insults, he doesn't like my grilled cheese sandwiches. We worked some more on our table manners....it's not going well. Pretty much, the afternoon has somewhat fallen apart. One boy is worried to pieces that he's going to get in trouble for his wet shoes, the other is just pretty sure that nothing I say is of much consequence. I thought I had them comfortably cozied up in the den with all the couch cushions and pillows on the floor, tucked in with the "super sonic soft" blankets and big, fat, fluffy stuffed animals to watch an episode of Planet Earth. That lasted about 8 minutes. 8 minutes seem to be our limit today. Lots of yelling and begging for snacks etc. I tried to ignore it, instead, the TV is off and everyone has been relegated to the backyard...well, except, no one has gone there. I'm just ignoring it.
I am sure, once the little darlings have gone home, I will reflect upon the day and there will be more ups than downs. I've gotten several unsolicited and impromptu hugs and kisses. I'll take those every time. There have been quite a few "yes ma'ams" which I greatly appreciate. The truth is, they are six year old boys, very beautiful, intelligent, funny, active six your old boys and even the minutes that I find myself bumfuzzled, there is great joy. And, then as the Benedictine rule states, "always we begin again." Tomorrow is a new day with new plans. I'm sure it will be totally delightful.
Well, now they are acting as though they are doing me a favor because I said they could build something out of marshmallows and toothpicks. Being 6 must be really hard at times. Oh, my word, they are fighting over the marshmallows.
A conversation: Simeon: I'm going to make a roast.
Max: What's a roast
Simeon: It's a toothpick with lots of marshmallows stuck on it.
Another: Max: Let me tell you something Sim, pretty much everything that's bad for you tastes good.
Simeon: Do NOT tell me about the foot wheel. (An Uncle Marshall threat for those who eat too much sugar).
Made me laugh out loud. I do not want to ignore those little nuggets of gold. That is one reason I am blogging about our camp ~ so I will remember.
Tuesday, May 29, 2018
Mellie's Summer Camp of "Excellence"
Day 1
This summer, I will have the boys twelve days ~ three days a week for four weeks scattered throughout the summer months. Twelve days. Just twelve days with just the three of us before they go off to first grade. I find it so hard to comprehend. How did all those days of just the three of us, from the time they were infants until now, fly by so swiftly?
I have decided to write about each day. I have BIG plans for us. Some of those will come to fruition, some will not; like my plan to start teaching them to knit. Turns out, Mellie needs a tutorial. I have only been a rudimentary knitter at best, but "rudimentary" would be a most generous description of the skill I displayed today.
Max was my only camper today. Simeon is in Texas, making his way home this evening...the evening that President Trump is coming to town along with tropical depression Alberto. I am definitely praying travel mercies on Simmy and his family.
So, day one of Mellie's Summer Camp of "Excellence" 2018 was a very laid-back day. We ran some errands to get supplies for our Father's Day masterpieces that we will work on Friday. Max made a really neat suncatcher using construction paper, cardboard box, Saran Wrap, flower petals, and leaves. Any pictures will be posted on FB because my techy self cannot get pictures on my blog any more. I have no idea why. He did some sewing on plastic canvas, some worksheets to help improve his handwriting. He read a 65 page book. I was going to let him stop, but he really liked the story, so he continued on. He is in a reading challenge through the public library, so he got fifty more minutes toward the 600 he is determined to get for the summer. I am not sure how we are going to get reading done with both boys here because they do demand attention, but we will.
They each will have a journal that has the Einstein quote, ""imagination is more important than knowledge" written on the front. My plan is to have them write in it each day, add some snapshots, and include some directed drawings and other artwork. I hope they will keep the journals and that something in the years ahead will spark a memory of a fun time at Mellie's.
We will be working on table manners along with other areas of their lives where their manners could improve. I bought a book entitled "That's Rude, Dude!" There are ten rules for good table manners. It is my plan to have them memorize them. They will work on learning them well, for our last day of camp 2018 will be at The Capitol Grille in the Hermitage Hotel where we will have lunch without smacking our lips, slurping our drinks, dropping food on our chairs or the floor, and refraining from intentional burping. We'll see how that goes.
Lots of outings and random acts of kindness and art projects and science experiments and fine motor skill activities are planned, along with just some playing outdoors and hanging out with probably a movie or two thrown in. I am looking forward to it. I hope the boys are. I know that I will be tired at the end of each day, but I hope it will be a good tired for us all as we work to build a body of good memories and worthwhile lessons.
I ran into two ladies as I was walking the other day. They are the grandmothers of baby Finn who lives next door. They had come into town to keep Finn while his parents were on a trip. Mr. L and I are busy and can be very introverted and backward, so I do not know my new neighbors, but the grandmothers spoke to me and we struck up a conversation. They asked if I had grandchildren and I told them that yes, I do. "Do they live around here," they asked. I replied that they all live in Nashville and that two of them live across the street. I made the somewhat insensitive comment that those two were in Texas and I was really missing them (they left that morning). In a sarcastic but not caustic response, one of those grandmothers responded, "well, I feel so sorry for you!"
I never take for granted how fortunate I am to live near my grandchildren and that my children and their spouses are gracious enough to allow their children to be actively present in my life. So, twelve days doesn't seem like nearly enough. I am realistic enough to know that twelve days on some afternoons will seem like too many if we have rough days of bickering and fighting and recalcitrance. I trust that will not happen. If it does, I will embrace that too and be grateful for every art project gone wrong, every glass of Mellie's "special tea" (it sounds bad but it's really not - just green tea, lemon and stevia) spilled, every muddy footprint tracked in, every glitter bottle, button box, googly-eye bag turned over. It is all a beautiful gift.
This summer, I will have the boys twelve days ~ three days a week for four weeks scattered throughout the summer months. Twelve days. Just twelve days with just the three of us before they go off to first grade. I find it so hard to comprehend. How did all those days of just the three of us, from the time they were infants until now, fly by so swiftly?
I have decided to write about each day. I have BIG plans for us. Some of those will come to fruition, some will not; like my plan to start teaching them to knit. Turns out, Mellie needs a tutorial. I have only been a rudimentary knitter at best, but "rudimentary" would be a most generous description of the skill I displayed today.
Max was my only camper today. Simeon is in Texas, making his way home this evening...the evening that President Trump is coming to town along with tropical depression Alberto. I am definitely praying travel mercies on Simmy and his family.
So, day one of Mellie's Summer Camp of "Excellence" 2018 was a very laid-back day. We ran some errands to get supplies for our Father's Day masterpieces that we will work on Friday. Max made a really neat suncatcher using construction paper, cardboard box, Saran Wrap, flower petals, and leaves. Any pictures will be posted on FB because my techy self cannot get pictures on my blog any more. I have no idea why. He did some sewing on plastic canvas, some worksheets to help improve his handwriting. He read a 65 page book. I was going to let him stop, but he really liked the story, so he continued on. He is in a reading challenge through the public library, so he got fifty more minutes toward the 600 he is determined to get for the summer. I am not sure how we are going to get reading done with both boys here because they do demand attention, but we will.
They each will have a journal that has the Einstein quote, ""imagination is more important than knowledge" written on the front. My plan is to have them write in it each day, add some snapshots, and include some directed drawings and other artwork. I hope they will keep the journals and that something in the years ahead will spark a memory of a fun time at Mellie's.
We will be working on table manners along with other areas of their lives where their manners could improve. I bought a book entitled "That's Rude, Dude!" There are ten rules for good table manners. It is my plan to have them memorize them. They will work on learning them well, for our last day of camp 2018 will be at The Capitol Grille in the Hermitage Hotel where we will have lunch without smacking our lips, slurping our drinks, dropping food on our chairs or the floor, and refraining from intentional burping. We'll see how that goes.
Lots of outings and random acts of kindness and art projects and science experiments and fine motor skill activities are planned, along with just some playing outdoors and hanging out with probably a movie or two thrown in. I am looking forward to it. I hope the boys are. I know that I will be tired at the end of each day, but I hope it will be a good tired for us all as we work to build a body of good memories and worthwhile lessons.
I ran into two ladies as I was walking the other day. They are the grandmothers of baby Finn who lives next door. They had come into town to keep Finn while his parents were on a trip. Mr. L and I are busy and can be very introverted and backward, so I do not know my new neighbors, but the grandmothers spoke to me and we struck up a conversation. They asked if I had grandchildren and I told them that yes, I do. "Do they live around here," they asked. I replied that they all live in Nashville and that two of them live across the street. I made the somewhat insensitive comment that those two were in Texas and I was really missing them (they left that morning). In a sarcastic but not caustic response, one of those grandmothers responded, "well, I feel so sorry for you!"
I never take for granted how fortunate I am to live near my grandchildren and that my children and their spouses are gracious enough to allow their children to be actively present in my life. So, twelve days doesn't seem like nearly enough. I am realistic enough to know that twelve days on some afternoons will seem like too many if we have rough days of bickering and fighting and recalcitrance. I trust that will not happen. If it does, I will embrace that too and be grateful for every art project gone wrong, every glass of Mellie's "special tea" (it sounds bad but it's really not - just green tea, lemon and stevia) spilled, every muddy footprint tracked in, every glitter bottle, button box, googly-eye bag turned over. It is all a beautiful gift.
Thursday, March 29, 2018
My Life With a Self-Diagnosed Jinx
Mr. L. is an easy going, easy-to-live-with kind of guy eleven months of the year. He can, however, make watching NCAA March Madness an experience in frustration. You see, he is convinced he is a jinx. Personally, I think this over-inflated view of his powers to control the outcome of a basketball game from his den, is quite befuddling. He is not amused by my teasing and, actually, I believe, is quite terrified by his powers for evil.
This is not a new phenomenon in his life. When we married, I became a University of Kentucky fan because, well, the Bible tells me to submit to my husband and my loyalty to any other team would not have been a good display of my wifely submission. So, a UK fan I became. The problem is, I really don't get to watch UK play ball because Mr. L. is a jinx. Because of his jinxing powers, I only get to watch 30 seconds of a game every 12 minutes. Short bouts of viewing the game seems to neutralize the jinx power somewhat. Oh, and he has equally strong powers over the radio waves as well. Yep, you guessed it, 30 seconds of listening every 12 minutes.
When I first observed this behavior, I was a newlywed questioning the decision I had made marrying this man. I found his behavior shocking. The first TV we owned was a 4 inch screen. No, I am not kidding. Four inches of screen for your viewing pleasure. It was a fancy TV for it was also a radio and an alarm clock. Kids today just don't know what they are missing with their 40 inch screens. The only way we could watch the TV together was to lie in bed with it balanced on Mr. L's chest. Please do not assume I exaggerate for the sake of a story. This is the honest truth. Of course, this was before these days when we each need three pairs of glasses of different strengths and a scorecard as to what pair to wear when. This TV worked perfectly fine, until March Madness. On the occasions that UK was playing in the tournament, we went to Charles and Phyllis Trevathan's house, our beloved mentors, and watched the game there. The truth is, I could have just stayed home and put the TV on my own chest and watched the game by myself because Mr. L. spent major parts of the games hiding in the Trevathan's bathroom only to stick his head out every 12 minutes to check on the score. Truly, I kid you not.
A few years later, when we had children, it seems that one particular game (I'm certain he could tell you which game and the final score) Mr. L. laid very still on our living room floor with a lucky half dollar on his chest. UK won, a game possibly one they were not expected to win, so from that day forward, he laid on the floor with his lucky half dollar, children climbing on him, me stepping over him. Panic ensued if the half dollar was misplaced.
On the occasions when I express a desire to just watch the game, please, he leaves the house to drive around or sit at Sonic only to listen long enough to hear the score and then 12 minutes later to check again. If he is just too tired to leave, he will go to the other end of the house and warn me not to make any sounds that might indicate what is happening in the game until he shouts for an update on the score. I have stuffed a pillow in my mouth on several occasions in order to comply. Unless Kentucky is ahead by 77 with less than 2 minutes left in the game, the jinx is still in play.
Going to the actual game is much easier. Mr. L., except on the rarest of occasions (usually inappropriate hysterical laughter), is able to control his outward behavior when in public. He is the model of decorum at a game. Now, of course, he is likely to leave if Kentucky falls behind, well, because, of course it is his fault they are losing. It could not possibly be because the team cannot hit their free-throws, or get the ball inbounds, or stop fouling. It's Mr. L's fault! Oh, if he could only harness this power and use it for good. He still is better off than his poor father who once spent an entire game in the bathroom because of a nervous stomach during a tournament game between Auburn (think Charles Barkley ~ we're getting OLD) and UK . Here we had another fan who believed that somehow he was responsible for the outcome of a game. Mr. Switzer also almost got in a fist fight with an Indiana fan who was waving a big flag that periodically came very close to his face. I was there at that game in Dayton, Ohio, and I was most fearful there was to be a fracas.
As the years have gone by, I have come to accept Mr. L.'s eccentricities. He is extremely gracious in accepting mine. I will say it seems uncanny that he can jinx the Cubs, the Titans, the Predators and any other team in any other sport in which he states a preference as to who wins. It is this very reason that Duke is not in the Final 4 this year ~ he refused to watch the game. He despises Duke. UK fans just cannot get past Christian Laettner's last second winning shot in 1992! The world thinks Kentucky lost because of that shot, but we know, yes we know, Mr. L., the jinx, is the reason. We still haven't gotten over it.
Perhaps, it is just coincidence, but I will say that I have become a bit of a believer in Mr. L.'s ability to jinx teams. If I can just get him not to say that he is for Loyola of Chicago in the next four days, the Cinderella team just might have a chance. I am hoping the Switzer jinx is not as strong as Sister Jean's prayers.
This is not a new phenomenon in his life. When we married, I became a University of Kentucky fan because, well, the Bible tells me to submit to my husband and my loyalty to any other team would not have been a good display of my wifely submission. So, a UK fan I became. The problem is, I really don't get to watch UK play ball because Mr. L. is a jinx. Because of his jinxing powers, I only get to watch 30 seconds of a game every 12 minutes. Short bouts of viewing the game seems to neutralize the jinx power somewhat. Oh, and he has equally strong powers over the radio waves as well. Yep, you guessed it, 30 seconds of listening every 12 minutes.
When I first observed this behavior, I was a newlywed questioning the decision I had made marrying this man. I found his behavior shocking. The first TV we owned was a 4 inch screen. No, I am not kidding. Four inches of screen for your viewing pleasure. It was a fancy TV for it was also a radio and an alarm clock. Kids today just don't know what they are missing with their 40 inch screens. The only way we could watch the TV together was to lie in bed with it balanced on Mr. L's chest. Please do not assume I exaggerate for the sake of a story. This is the honest truth. Of course, this was before these days when we each need three pairs of glasses of different strengths and a scorecard as to what pair to wear when. This TV worked perfectly fine, until March Madness. On the occasions that UK was playing in the tournament, we went to Charles and Phyllis Trevathan's house, our beloved mentors, and watched the game there. The truth is, I could have just stayed home and put the TV on my own chest and watched the game by myself because Mr. L. spent major parts of the games hiding in the Trevathan's bathroom only to stick his head out every 12 minutes to check on the score. Truly, I kid you not.
A few years later, when we had children, it seems that one particular game (I'm certain he could tell you which game and the final score) Mr. L. laid very still on our living room floor with a lucky half dollar on his chest. UK won, a game possibly one they were not expected to win, so from that day forward, he laid on the floor with his lucky half dollar, children climbing on him, me stepping over him. Panic ensued if the half dollar was misplaced.
On the occasions when I express a desire to just watch the game, please, he leaves the house to drive around or sit at Sonic only to listen long enough to hear the score and then 12 minutes later to check again. If he is just too tired to leave, he will go to the other end of the house and warn me not to make any sounds that might indicate what is happening in the game until he shouts for an update on the score. I have stuffed a pillow in my mouth on several occasions in order to comply. Unless Kentucky is ahead by 77 with less than 2 minutes left in the game, the jinx is still in play.
Going to the actual game is much easier. Mr. L., except on the rarest of occasions (usually inappropriate hysterical laughter), is able to control his outward behavior when in public. He is the model of decorum at a game. Now, of course, he is likely to leave if Kentucky falls behind, well, because, of course it is his fault they are losing. It could not possibly be because the team cannot hit their free-throws, or get the ball inbounds, or stop fouling. It's Mr. L's fault! Oh, if he could only harness this power and use it for good. He still is better off than his poor father who once spent an entire game in the bathroom because of a nervous stomach during a tournament game between Auburn (think Charles Barkley ~ we're getting OLD) and UK . Here we had another fan who believed that somehow he was responsible for the outcome of a game. Mr. Switzer also almost got in a fist fight with an Indiana fan who was waving a big flag that periodically came very close to his face. I was there at that game in Dayton, Ohio, and I was most fearful there was to be a fracas.
As the years have gone by, I have come to accept Mr. L.'s eccentricities. He is extremely gracious in accepting mine. I will say it seems uncanny that he can jinx the Cubs, the Titans, the Predators and any other team in any other sport in which he states a preference as to who wins. It is this very reason that Duke is not in the Final 4 this year ~ he refused to watch the game. He despises Duke. UK fans just cannot get past Christian Laettner's last second winning shot in 1992! The world thinks Kentucky lost because of that shot, but we know, yes we know, Mr. L., the jinx, is the reason. We still haven't gotten over it.
Perhaps, it is just coincidence, but I will say that I have become a bit of a believer in Mr. L.'s ability to jinx teams. If I can just get him not to say that he is for Loyola of Chicago in the next four days, the Cinderella team just might have a chance. I am hoping the Switzer jinx is not as strong as Sister Jean's prayers.
Wednesday, March 21, 2018
Water, Water Everywhere...
Tomorrow is World Water Day. Below are some words I shared at The Living Water Project dinner last August. I am hoping that in some small way, these words will strike a chord with you, and that you will choose to celebrate World Water Day by helping to save lives. There are many organizations in the world who minister through supplying clean water to those in need. I am just partial to this one.
“Nashville
Tennessee is the filthiest city on the North American continent,” Dr. Berrien Lindsley 1873.
Between 1833 and 1873, Nashville had several outbreaks of a water-borne disease called Cholera. There are documented cases of stout, grown men getting up, having breakfast, going to work and being dead by sundown. Children died in far less time. In the 1833 epidemic, there were 88 prisoners in the state penitentiary, all but 3 were stricken by the disease. Former President James K. Polk died in the 1849 epidemic after battling cholera for 2 weeks. The day he was buried in the Nashville City Cemetery, 34 others were buried, all of whom died of cholera. Hundreds upon hundreds of lives lost for want of clean water. By 1873, the connection between unclean water and this deadly disease was beginning to be understood.
Maya
Angelou is credited with saying, “do the best you can do until you know
better. When you know better, do
better.” By the late 19c, cholera had
been eradicated in the United States.
Still, in the 21c, cholera continues to cause deaths in other parts of
the world. Lives lost for want of clean
water. As a lover of history and a
teller of stories, it seems to me that the only proper response to the lessons
of the past is to heed them and use them for the common good. As one of the newest members of the Living
Water Project board, I am grateful to be part of a group that goes about
showing the love of Jesus by using knowledge gained from lessons of the past to
benefit others.
I am
going to be a bit personally honest here.
I am a very geographically-challenged person. Several years ago, our family went on a trip
out West. As we were planning I
excitedly asked what wonderful things we would see in Iowa. I am not a financially minded person. If I write a check for $35 I subtract $50
from my check register. I realize that
possibly the most alarming words in that statement are check and check
register. I am not very tech savvy. At board meetings everyone else opens up
their laptops. I have a notebook of
hand-made paper and a purple ink pen. I
don’t know anything about water purification, how well pumps work, or where the
best place is to dig.
But, this
I do know. Proximity has nothing to do
with who my neighbor is. I know that
people all over the world just want to be able to care for their families and
keep their children healthy. I know
clean water is vital to that pursuit.
So, I
invite you to celebrate with us the almost 400 wells that have been dug and are
saving lives. I invite you to celebrate
with us the opportunities that lie ahead.
Some of you are geography people.
You love maps and globes and traveling, so you get excited about all the
different places Living Water has wells.
Some of you are financial folks and you might be searching information
for how much these opportunities will cost.
Some of you are engineers and tech people and so you find yourselves
fascinated by all the different methods used to garner that God-given clean
water so desperately needed. And, some
of you are looking for how many people will be affected, how children’s lives
will be saved.
Will you
join me in contributing the amount of your last water bill to The Living Water
Project to celebrate World Water Day? Such
donations are the reasons that there are fewer children in the world dying of
water-borne diseases.
www.livingwaterwells.org
Tuesday, March 6, 2018
Yes...but
Yes, her morals have been compromised. Yes, she broke her marriage vows. Yes, she used her position as mayor in unwise ways. Yes, she appropriated city money for her own benefit. Yes, her decision-making is highly questionable. Yes, it is possible, had the whole sordid thing not been discovered, she would not have confessed. Yes, it is likely, had she not made a deal to stay out of jail, she would not have resigned. Yes, two families have been publicly humiliated. Yes, our city has been in the news for less than stellar reasons. Yes, I believe she needed to resign. Yes, it is all true.
But, I hope focusing on her moral failures does not blind us to our own. But, I hope those of us who are married understand there are many ways other than sex outside of marriage to break marriage vows. But, I hope each of us looks into how we might be using our position at work, at church, at school, and in our homes in questionable ways. But, I hope we ask ourselves how we use money to pamper and benefit ourselves when a wiser choice would be to use it for the common good. But, I hope we understand that not all our decisions are brilliant. But, I hope we recognize that which we have done that might need confessing but will remain hidden unless pressure comes to bear.
I did not vote for Mayor Barry. She has not been a sympathetic protagonist in my mind. But, my heart aches for her. She has lost a son to drug addiction. She has lost her marriage. She has lost her job. She has lost face. Finding pleasure in her pain, especially for those of us who claim to follow Jesus, is hypocrisy at its most profound.
But, I hope focusing on her moral failures does not blind us to our own. But, I hope those of us who are married understand there are many ways other than sex outside of marriage to break marriage vows. But, I hope each of us looks into how we might be using our position at work, at church, at school, and in our homes in questionable ways. But, I hope we ask ourselves how we use money to pamper and benefit ourselves when a wiser choice would be to use it for the common good. But, I hope we understand that not all our decisions are brilliant. But, I hope we recognize that which we have done that might need confessing but will remain hidden unless pressure comes to bear.
I did not vote for Mayor Barry. She has not been a sympathetic protagonist in my mind. But, my heart aches for her. She has lost a son to drug addiction. She has lost her marriage. She has lost her job. She has lost face. Finding pleasure in her pain, especially for those of us who claim to follow Jesus, is hypocrisy at its most profound.
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