Scott: Sullivan, I’ve been meaning to talk with you about your reading habits.
Sullivan: You’ll never stop me.
Éa: [making small talk] What’s your Stilson?
Lindsay: Pelz. [the correct answer]
Carla: [playfully flicks dishwater at Scott]
Scott: What did I do to deserve that?
Carla: You married me.
Hey, it was definitely hard, but I really enjoyed spending time with you this evening.
— Scott, to Carla
Éa [from the other end of the house]: Mama! Watch this!
Carla: Honey, I’m cooking!
Éa: Mama watch this!
Carla: I can’t! I’m cooking right now!
Éa: Mama! Watch this! I can jump from the TOP!
Carla [walking quickly to the other end of the house]: Okay! You’ve got my interest!
Carla: It’s 7:57.
Scott: What!? Already?
Carla: I know. Like, what the fUuuuuuUuuck? [moment of silence] Sometimes I say that just to assert my adulthood.
Daddy, no you don’t go to work! Éa and I go to work! [pause] Oh. Well, I guess if Éa and I were the one who went to work, we’d be poor.
— Sullivan, in a gradually self-aware attempt to keep Scott from going to work that day
The front cover of a birthday card Sullivan drew for Cassie’s birthday. Featuring a black-capped chickadee drawn from a photo.
Yeah, but I got two in a row.
— Sullivan, after losing at tic-tac-toe to Grandpa
Carla: Wow, it looks like it was cold last night.
Sullivan: Well, I was as warm as a bear slumbering in the basement.
If I were married to myself, I’d be divorced.
— Carla
Carla: I’ve gotta get in shape for the wedding.
Scott: Whoa. Weird. Normal woman-talk just came out of my wife’s mouth.
New guidelines for goal-choosing:
- Choose just one unquantized goal to be active at a time.
- Alternate between creative goals and receptive goals.
Having just finished my presentation to College Township about backyard hens, I now move on to reading How We Love.
It occurs to me for perhaps the first time ever that going for emotional connection is a worthy goal in life. Like, that should be the primary thing I’m trying to do with the people closest to me.
5th birthday verses
My son, youre five,
And I’m so glad youre alive.
It’s worth a lot of mirth,
The day you came to Earth.
So Mom baked a shark-tastic cake
And planned a party for your sake
With piñata, food and skating today
and friends who gather round to say:
We love you very much, my boy.
MAY ALL YOUR DAYS BE FULL OF JOY!
Having just listened to “Shepherd” by Anaïs Mitchell, I wonder: When did we come to the conclusion that sad endings are more artistic?
My decisions on what (single) project to undertake next should always come down to where my proclivities, desires, joys, happiness, what enjoy doing and can get happily lost in doing meets up with the supreme joy of others and the pleasure of God.
One thing bringing Moshulu (the cat) into our family and shifting gears into backyard hens work have done is make me realize that I don’t respond favorably to change of my home life. Eventually, I can end up finding great value in those changes, but initially, my soul is usually against.
I’m all done with having to ask the children to do something twice because they’re defiant or unresponsive.
I concluded last night that it’s my email inbox is a culprit in making my leisure disappear. In light of that, I hereby resolve to:
- Spend no more than twenty minutes every other day zapping emails.
- Default to using the phone instead of email to communication.
Once it got to more abstract levels, I got interested.
— Scott, causing laughter in Carla for reasons that shall remain unmentioned
I finished listening through the Medieval portion of (one version of) the classical repertoire this afternoon. Main takeaway (drumroll, please): Eight hundred years ago is a long time ago.
For what it’s worth, though, students of Italian will probably enjoy Johannes Ciconia, and students of German will almost certainly enjoy the music of warrior-poet Oswald von Wolkenstein.
Here’s a link to a Spotify playlist of my favorite tracks: Faves: Medieval.
Give to those who ask of you doesn’t apply merely to money. It also applies to time, and it’s a fine guiding principle to those who ask to hang out with me.
That’s the first time I’ve gone without a meal in years. First of all, thank you, God, for Your plentiful provision. Second, whew, I’m a little light-headed.
How do you decide between living an ordinary life extraordinarily (i.e., what I’m attempting with my status quo) and making extraordinary choices that lead to living in extraordinary circumstances (e.g., moving to Fishtown). The latter calls, but very indistinctly.