Well. To state the obvious I have failed miserably at keeping a weekly blog….and to be honest it is extremely likely that this will continue to be the case. I know you are all terribly disappointed – devastated even. But alas, such is the truth of the matter and I am sure that we will all find a way to survive. So instead of trying for the ideal of once a week I will content myself with shooting for once a month. Which is really probably just setting myself up. What I should do is make no promises and then just let what happens happen, and then anything I wrote would be a positive. But apparently goals and such are “en vogue” now and striving builds character and who knows what else….so let us say tentatively, for now, at least until it becomes inconvenient, or I forget, that I will post something once a month.
The Actual Post
First, lets give a shout out to the Dirt Diva (so dubbed by me and Hillary) Adrienne! If you are looking to grow a garden or anything that has to do with dirt or plants check out her Blog: Playing in Dirt it is fantastic and vibrant...opposed to grey and semi-satirical like this one....
Well the last couple of weeks have just flown by. Here it is already the end of February and time to do home teaching again… (and yes that is how I mark my months…home teaching…it is just so consistent much more reliable than counting days or weeks…I mean some months have 30 days some 31 others 28 or 29 even the amount of weeks in a month fluctuate month to month - but home teaching always remains reliable, constant, never changes, month after month it is always there waiting for you).
Yep, time just seems to fly by these days. Anyway, here are a couple of little anecdotes from our lives over the last few weeks.
Anecdote First
This took place about two weeks ago. I was sitting in the front room reading the Autobiography of Mark Twain as I frequently do these days (great book, very long…) when it occurred to me that I could no longer hear Claire playing in her room. Right now, anyone of you that currently have or have had little kids already knows this is trouble. Silence, when raising small children, although extremely rare and to be cherished, is almost always an indication that someone is doing something they are not supposed to be doing…either that or they are asleep or if you have multiple children, someone or someones is/are unconscious and the victor(s) is enjoying their spoils. Of course rendering your siblings unconscious is typically classed in the “not supposed to be doing category”...unless you prescribe to the "Tiger Mom" method, in which case you should berate the victor(s) for their sloppy technique; berated the unconscious for being unconscious; then berate all of them together for wasting their time hitting each other instead of practicing for their concert at Carnegie Hall or studying for their entrance exams to Yale.
However, since Claire is going to be going to Harvard I knew that I should stop reading immediately and go see what mischief she was up to. But alas, I was lured into the blissfulness of the silence and remained a moment longer than was prudent perusing the pages of my book. Thus, by the time I actually went to investigate what damage had been done, Claire had successfully climbed the bathroom counter, got the nail polish and other makeup out of the bathroom cabinet and applied it “artistically” to her face. And hands. And feet. And clothes. And mirror. And sink counter top. And just about everything within a 1.5 ft radius (which coincidently is about the same length as her arm span…). I have included a picture below that only captures a part of the true artistic beauty she employed.
Anecdote Second
Last week we went to see the Duke campus. It is impressive to say the least. There are many very architecturally beautiful buildings to see. Specifically, however, I wanted to visit the Duke Chapel and that was my primary objective in going. After arriving on campus and then driving around for about an hour looking for somewhere to park (there was a Duke basketball game that day as well) I finally just parked in a “no parking towing strictly enforced” area close to the Chapel figuring we would only be 15-20 minutes. However, when we returned to our vehicle it was still there with no ticket. Haha, you only thought you knew where this story was going. There is a twist; the story isn’t about the parking.
But we did park in a “no parking towing strictly enforced” area got out and started toward the chapel. As we walked I fairly quickly noticed that people kept looking at us, and me in particular, in a strange and in some cases almost hostile manner. At first I thought “sheesh apparently they take their no parking zones pretty serious here…” finally, when it was apparent that there was no way the group of rowdy guys carrying the 56pk of beer who just stared at me like they wanted to harm me could have seen where I parked I realized I was wearing my UNC Tar Heels cap. Suddenly, things were a lot clearer. I quickly removed the hat and stuck it in my coat pocket. The hate stares stopped, but I still got some weird looks from people due to my marvelously disheveled hat hair.
The Chapel was great, very interesting and very beautiful…well if you are in to that sort of thing anyway. They have“real” catacombs in the basement and still bury people in the floor (of course you have to be famous and influential to make it into the Duke Chapel floor though…and a Duke graduate…I probably should have said a Duke graduate first and then the other stuff…) There are pictures of the organ pipes from the Chapel below.
Anecdote Third
This one relates to Anecdote First in that it deals with Claire and makeup, specifically nail polish, which I understand from the ladies in Play group is not strictly considered a “makeup” article but rather an accessorizing or ornamental article…makeups being restricted solely to items applied to the facial area…But, anyway, the story begins with a trip to the temple.
Hillary and I had just dropped Claire off at some friends and were on our way to attend a session at the temple when it occurred to me that I had forgot to wear my white socks. I typically just put my white socks on when getting dressed for the temple rather than changing them when I get to the temple but this time I had forgot to put them on. Not really a big problem at this point since I keep a spare pair of white socks in my temple bag specifically for times like this. As we drive though I begin to think that not only have I used my backup socks I didn’t replace them…still not a big concern I’ll just get some at the temple from the clothes counter.
So we arrive. I ask about clothes, they don’t have clothes at this temple. Which upon reflection I already should have known since it is one of the smaller style temples, but I had failed to think about. At this point I just think “oh well, I guess I just won’t wear socks. Not a big deal it’s not like forgetting pants or a shirt.” So I get in my stall and proceed to change my clothes. This is when the story gets interesting. As I take my socks off I realize that I have purple toenails. I had let Claire paint them a few days earlier. I let her do this from time to time because she enjoys it so much and it keeps her busy while I can just sit on the couch and read. She also wants to paint my fingernails…but that isn’t happening. The line has to be drawn somewhere.
So there I am in the temple with these purple toenails staring up at me and it occurs to me that at one point I am going to have to remove my slippers during the ceremony and most likely there will be an elderly Brethren sitting next to me when I do so. Panic sets in. I immediately have a flash image in my mind in which I can see this brother leaning over as he sees my toenails and muttering something like “are you sure you are supposed to be here son?” “Maybe you should go talk to your bishop about a few things…” And then me trying to stammer something about my daughter and such all while he looks at me with one of those sympathetic elderly Brethren smiles on his lips that says all to clearly “you poor lost confused little boy, what has happened to the world…don’t people still teach their kids how to be MEN”
Then the flash is over. Oh well I think, nothing for it now, It’s a two-hour round trip drive and I’m not going to not go in to the session now. So I go.
When I enter the room I head for the back hoping that the room ill fill up from the front and maybe just maybe no one will sit on my row. Hillary is already sitting down in the room so as I pass her I lean over and whisper “I have no socks. And purple toenails.” She chuckles. I go and take my seat on the back row in the farthest corner.
Then as I am sitting there with panic stirring in my stomach that someone will sit by me and discover my secret, from her seat 4 rows up and on the other side of the room Hillary lets out an audible laugh. Obviously, she has just had the same flash image about the Elderly Brethren sitting by me that I had earlier. I smile. And swallow a small burst of laughter in a forced yawn. Hillary, leaks another small laugh and this time as I watch the other people in the room turn to look at her it is too much and I puncture the silence with my own choked laughter.
Then the moment is over. We both regain our composure the rest of the people file in. No one sits in my row. I am safe.
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