I want to live in a van...

...down by the river. We have been looking for a larger vehicle for our family, and I've found the perfect van on E-bay. Check it out. It has been modified to accomodate the transport of...um...rowdy children.

On...still on

I press on toward the goal

unto the prize

of the high calling

in Christ Jesus.

What? Different?

So, today, I received a postcard from the ye olde British Isles with a picture of the ye olde Robert the Bruce and on the back, written in 72-point Castellar font itallic, the words "Great Scot!" Hahahahaha!

Being the parent of children representing both of the major genders, I receive, as the January 20, 1992 TIME magazine cover above so skillfully illustrates, keen insights into the obvious - that they are different. And yet, every time I notice this, I am amazed by it.

We did not train our boys to be simple-headed clods, concerned only with catching snakes, beating upon each other's person, and exploring philosophically the habits and tendencies of "bad guys." And yet, they behave this way.

I ask them, "Boys, wouldn't you like to play quietly, or merely sit and contemplate the eternal verities?" "No, let's rough-house!" Jeff pipes up, "I want to rough-house!"

I ask them, "Would you like me to read to you from the Illiad, which is usually ascribed to Homer?" "No, let's go catch snakes." Jeff pipes up, "I want to rough-house!"

Conversly, we did not train our daughter to be emotionally complex, consumed with the importance of changing shoes at least once an hour, the absolute necessity of cheerfully greeting everyone in the morning, or that being on the same continent as a bug, or any random assemblage of material even remotely resembling a bug, is a fate worse than death itself. And yet, she behaves this way.

Thank God for variety. And Jeff pipes up, "I want to rough-house!"

Purdapodopopolagopolis

I played a game once where you had to pay a nickel if someone was able to get you to say the word that is the title of this post...

Life has been enjoyable recently...and when I say "enjoyable", I mean "busy." I just hate to say that life has been busy recently, because that much is patently obvious.

We enjoyed the firstfruit of the zuchinni last week...properly battered and fried; from the looks of the garden, we are about to be deluged by a flood of little zukes. Mary thought she was buying four plants, but through a classic error in mathematical computations, actually bought about 20 plants. Free zuchinni, anyone?

We enjoyed my first day of vacation this year (this may not be entirely accurate, but let's not let the facts get in the way of a good pattern). We spent the weekend, plus today, at "Diane's camp" in Maine. How tromping about in cold lakewater and using an outhouse (not necessarily in that order) can be so enjoyable is beyond my comprehension. Perhaps it is all the junk food and movies.

And we have enjoyed our firstborn son, who was apparently kidnapped by aliens recently, as evidenced by his most unusual behavior. Last week, he asked if he could do the dishes. And then he washed them, for forty-five minutes. (Not because he is slow, per se, but because there were a lot of them.) The next day, he washed the dishes, again. (Not the same dishes from the previous day. Well, actually, some of them were the same dishes, but they had been used prior to their re-washing.) And he has done several other things which have made us know, not from a position of mere faith, but from observational experience, that Psalm 127:3 is true.

The Out Back

There is a song wherein the singer (who should wear more paisley neckties, in my opinion) talks about what he will do when he gets where he is going. One of the things he mentions is that he will go for a walk with his granddad, who will match him "step for step". After this past weekend, I can relate to the granddad in a whole new way.

The last few days, I have hobbled about in an elderly fashion not unlike that exhibited by someone in their early 90's, like say, for example, someone in their late 80's. I have done this because, to use the proverbial colloqualism, my back went out. Where it went, and with whom, I have no idea, but it has left me with a whole lot more than mere proverbial pain. I have felt, um...old. And Uncle L., who would make a very excellent doctor, given his wealth of medical knowledge, and having the bedside manner of Rasputin, told me that someday, I will feel like this every day. Whoohoo!

When I get where I'm going, I'm going to have to lay down.