I’m glad I went to college before the ubiquity of email. My daughter, who starts classes on Monday, got an email from one of her professors on Saturday. He sent the normal syllabus and class schedule, but he also included the first long reading assignment, which was due on the first day of class.
Gone are the halcyon days when you got to enjoy the last days before class started—rather like sipping the last of the summer wine. Instead, you get assigned the first two chapters of Corporate Accounting, a required classes for math majors since they need to learn how to manage the wealth they’ll acquire by majoring in something other than the humanities.
After reading the materials, Ariel came to me and tried to explain to me how to read a corporate accounting statement. I listened politely, but the truth is I don’t care. I hope and pray that I will never, ever have to read a corporate accounting statement. In fact, isn’t this why you send your children to college—so that they can learn to do things you can’t. Then you can mooch off their knowledge. That’s my plan.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Saturday, August 15, 2009
I Know What You're Thinking
The other morning I was hurrying to get laundry started, the dishwasher running, put on makeup, etc., because I had errands to run with Luke and Ariel. Matthew and Jacob were going to be home alone.
In the midst of mascara and fabric softener (not at the same time), Matthew asked, “Is Real Lemon the same as lemon juice squeezed from a lemon?” To which I replied, “Yes.” After all, the chemical makeup is the same, the difference is in freshness.
After I applied lipstick, I realized this wasn’t a cooking question. So I tracked Matt down. “Matt,” I said, “you are NOT making a wet cell battery while I’m gone.” Matt frowned. “Why not?” (Why do kids ask these questions?! Do they seriously not know?!) I answered, “Because I don’t want you to.”
Later Ariel said, “Mom, how did you know what Matt was planning to do? Did he have his science book out?” I shook my head. “I’ve been Matt’s mom for all of his nearly thirteen years—I know what he’s thinking most of the time. That’s what being a mom is all about—you know when your child is considering creating electricity, or other dangerous things.” If moms didn’t…the earth would be far less populated.
In the midst of mascara and fabric softener (not at the same time), Matthew asked, “Is Real Lemon the same as lemon juice squeezed from a lemon?” To which I replied, “Yes.” After all, the chemical makeup is the same, the difference is in freshness.
After I applied lipstick, I realized this wasn’t a cooking question. So I tracked Matt down. “Matt,” I said, “you are NOT making a wet cell battery while I’m gone.” Matt frowned. “Why not?” (Why do kids ask these questions?! Do they seriously not know?!) I answered, “Because I don’t want you to.”
Later Ariel said, “Mom, how did you know what Matt was planning to do? Did he have his science book out?” I shook my head. “I’ve been Matt’s mom for all of his nearly thirteen years—I know what he’s thinking most of the time. That’s what being a mom is all about—you know when your child is considering creating electricity, or other dangerous things.” If moms didn’t…the earth would be far less populated.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Narcissism Vs. World Domination
The other day I was reading a report by an Israeli psychologist claiming that President Obama was a narcissist. (Since the point of this is not politics, I’m not going to comment on whether or not he is—I’m not a psychologist and I don’t know the man. Nor will I speculate on what international issues might cause the Israelis to want to promulgate ideas of the president’s mental health. Is that enough disclaimers?) At any rate, I mentioned this fact to someone and found out that there’s a whole field of psychology devoted to presidents. And, I was told, that it’s classified under “Abnormal Psychology.”
Now this is curious to me. I wanted to know “why.” The person looked at me oddly and said, “Well, why would anyone want to be president? The stress, the pressure, the responsibility, etc.”
I had to scratch my chin. As a child, I toyed with the idea of wanting to be president. The power was always a major enticement for me. Maybe this is why, when I took the Lord of the Rings personality test, I came out as Sauron. (For those of you who don’t know, he’s the really, really bad guy.) I was hoping to come out as Goldberry, my favorite character in the novels. Everyone else in my family came out perfectly: Cal was Faramir, Luke was Beregond, Ariel was Sam, Jacob was Tom Bombadil, and Matt was Gimli. Surely, I could do better. I retook the test, altering my answers slightly and hoped I’d come out as Goldberry, or at least Eowen. But no! This time I came out as “The Dwarves.” Yep, I was an entire race.
Maybe I can take over the world. One of my dear friends came out as the Witch King. Together the world is ours. Bwahahaha! Watch out, Obama, narcissism’s got nothing on the hunger to dominate Middle Earth.
Now this is curious to me. I wanted to know “why.” The person looked at me oddly and said, “Well, why would anyone want to be president? The stress, the pressure, the responsibility, etc.”
I had to scratch my chin. As a child, I toyed with the idea of wanting to be president. The power was always a major enticement for me. Maybe this is why, when I took the Lord of the Rings personality test, I came out as Sauron. (For those of you who don’t know, he’s the really, really bad guy.) I was hoping to come out as Goldberry, my favorite character in the novels. Everyone else in my family came out perfectly: Cal was Faramir, Luke was Beregond, Ariel was Sam, Jacob was Tom Bombadil, and Matt was Gimli. Surely, I could do better. I retook the test, altering my answers slightly and hoped I’d come out as Goldberry, or at least Eowen. But no! This time I came out as “The Dwarves.” Yep, I was an entire race.
Maybe I can take over the world. One of my dear friends came out as the Witch King. Together the world is ours. Bwahahaha! Watch out, Obama, narcissism’s got nothing on the hunger to dominate Middle Earth.
Beware the Eye!
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
New Photo
In case you're not a detail oriented person, look to your right--there's a new picture of me. Many thanks to Rebekah Duke, aspiring photographer!! She takes wonderful photos.
She took so many lovely pictures. Here are a couple of my favorites. One with me and my darlin' and one with me and my daughter.
Monday, August 10, 2009
The Wife of Poseidon
The kids and I have always noticed how comfortable Calvin is in the water. And not just comfortable, but completely at home. For example, he’s been a certified lifeguard on and off for 30 years, he can swim for miles never breaking perfect form, and the waves seem to listen to him, carrying him in their froth to wherever he wants to be.
The kids and I decided that Cal must be either: Aqua man, Poseidon, or the last remaining survivor of Atlantis. But, it wasn’t until this vacation that we discovered the truth. Our photographer friend caught this picture of Calvin emerging from the surf at the summons of his wife and daughter.
If this isn’t Poseidon, then I don’t know my Greek gods. The fact that he wears Hawaiian swim trunks with hibiscuses printed on them confirms it—not to mention his plaid Bermuda shorts. (Check out Percy Jackson and the Olympians for the identifying descriptions that clinch it.)
Assuming that Cal is Poseidon, then our children are demi-gods. This means I can give them Odysseus-worthy epic quests (e.g., help your brother find his missing sock before we leave) and Herculean tasks (e.g., pack all these suitcases into the back of the van, making sure to leave enough room that we can see out the back through the rear-view mirror). Yep, I could get used to being the wife of Poseidon and having a horde of demi-gods as my minions.
(Thanks to Rebekah for all the vacation photos.)
The kids and I decided that Cal must be either: Aqua man, Poseidon, or the last remaining survivor of Atlantis. But, it wasn’t until this vacation that we discovered the truth. Our photographer friend caught this picture of Calvin emerging from the surf at the summons of his wife and daughter.
If this isn’t Poseidon, then I don’t know my Greek gods. The fact that he wears Hawaiian swim trunks with hibiscuses printed on them confirms it—not to mention his plaid Bermuda shorts. (Check out Percy Jackson and the Olympians for the identifying descriptions that clinch it.)
Assuming that Cal is Poseidon, then our children are demi-gods. This means I can give them Odysseus-worthy epic quests (e.g., help your brother find his missing sock before we leave) and Herculean tasks (e.g., pack all these suitcases into the back of the van, making sure to leave enough room that we can see out the back through the rear-view mirror). Yep, I could get used to being the wife of Poseidon and having a horde of demi-gods as my minions.
(Thanks to Rebekah for all the vacation photos.)
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
A Tulip on Vacation
We’re on vacation this week in North Carolina. We’re staying in an antique cottage on an estuary off of the inland waterway. Just out the front door is a snowy egret nesting grounds, which is very cool because I love snowy egrets. Every evening near dusk the egrets fly in a roost in the trees of the estuary.
And you can sit on the edge of the water and watch the fish jumping and, though I’ve not seen them yet, dolphin frolic.
Yesterday, we went to the beach on the barrier islands of the Camp LeJeune Marine Corps. The water was tepid, the waves perfect, and the beach empty. I forgot how much I love salt water and waves.
This morning I saw a pilated woodpecker (for those who don’t know—it’s the Woody Woodpecker type with the bright red flat-top.) I love birds.
And we’re with dear, old friends.
The downside. Let’s just say that I’m not a Southern magnolia type of woman. My ancestry is more Northern European—I’m a tulip kind of woman. So my morning run has been a bit different in nearly 100% humidity with the sun beating down,even early in the morning. (Yes, yes, it’s nasty in Chattanooga too, but there I run on a treadmill in the air conditioning.) As you can imagine, tulips wilt quickly in Southern heat. But, I forced my legs to keep running—I keep telling myself, “You’re so much tougher than this. You’ve given birth to four children, you’ve raised an autistic child, and you’re a pastor’s wife. This is nothing.” I’m not sure I believe it, but it distracts me enough, which is the purpose. If I don’t notice the sweat and the stifling heave of my chest, then I’m good, besides I have to burn off those tacos I had for dinner last night.
And you can sit on the edge of the water and watch the fish jumping and, though I’ve not seen them yet, dolphin frolic.
Yesterday, we went to the beach on the barrier islands of the Camp LeJeune Marine Corps. The water was tepid, the waves perfect, and the beach empty. I forgot how much I love salt water and waves.
This morning I saw a pilated woodpecker (for those who don’t know—it’s the Woody Woodpecker type with the bright red flat-top.) I love birds.
And we’re with dear, old friends.
The downside. Let’s just say that I’m not a Southern magnolia type of woman. My ancestry is more Northern European—I’m a tulip kind of woman. So my morning run has been a bit different in nearly 100% humidity with the sun beating down,even early in the morning. (Yes, yes, it’s nasty in Chattanooga too, but there I run on a treadmill in the air conditioning.) As you can imagine, tulips wilt quickly in Southern heat. But, I forced my legs to keep running—I keep telling myself, “You’re so much tougher than this. You’ve given birth to four children, you’ve raised an autistic child, and you’re a pastor’s wife. This is nothing.” I’m not sure I believe it, but it distracts me enough, which is the purpose. If I don’t notice the sweat and the stifling heave of my chest, then I’m good, besides I have to burn off those tacos I had for dinner last night.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Top Ten Reasons You Know You Have a Daughter in the House
1. Your dog has silver/purple/red toenails.
2. One of your bathrooms is never empty—how many times a day can you fix your hair?
3. You (mom/wife) have someone who always takes your side in an argument.
4. You hear the words, “You’re not wearing that, are you!?”
5. As opposed to piles of dirty clothes (boys), you have piles of clean clothes everywhere as outfits were discarded because they just weren’t working.
6. You have a second person in the house who believes that chocolate is a food group.
7. You have someone who will watch Pride & Prejudice/The Lake House/Sabrina with you for the 31st time.
8. Someone says, “Oh-my-gosh, look at that cute stuffed pig!”
9. She’ll buy the latest Gallagher girls book with her birthday money so you don’t have to wait for the library to get it. (Though you do have to wait for her to finish reading it before you can start, but she’ll read it in a day so it’s all good.)
10. Someone who knows that when you cry, you just want someone to give you a hug…even if you’re crying for no discernable reason. (Boys have a hard time with that last bit.)
1. Your dog has silver/purple/red toenails.
2. One of your bathrooms is never empty—how many times a day can you fix your hair?
3. You (mom/wife) have someone who always takes your side in an argument.
4. You hear the words, “You’re not wearing that, are you!?”
5. As opposed to piles of dirty clothes (boys), you have piles of clean clothes everywhere as outfits were discarded because they just weren’t working.
6. You have a second person in the house who believes that chocolate is a food group.
7. You have someone who will watch Pride & Prejudice/The Lake House/Sabrina with you for the 31st time.
8. Someone says, “Oh-my-gosh, look at that cute stuffed pig!”
9. She’ll buy the latest Gallagher girls book with her birthday money so you don’t have to wait for the library to get it. (Though you do have to wait for her to finish reading it before you can start, but she’ll read it in a day so it’s all good.)
10. Someone who knows that when you cry, you just want someone to give you a hug…even if you’re crying for no discernable reason. (Boys have a hard time with that last bit.)
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