Carla: How do you always know what I’m going to say? Am I predictable?
Scott: No, you’re my wife. You’re only predictable to me. To everyone else, you’re a complete mystery.

Watching my son turn the corner into the living room on his running bike while I’m listening to the final strains of An American in Paris.

I’ll take Gershwin tunes in my head all day any day.

Scott: Wow, so we’ve started our seventh year married.
Carla: Uh oh. We’re gonna get the seven-year itch!
Scott: Not me. I’m not itchy.
Carla: Ya, I’m starting to kinda get attracted to you, actually.

I’m orderin’ whatever the heck I want next time I go to a bar, and it’s probably going to be water because they don’t serve milk or juice there.

— Scott to Carla, arms akimbo and very serious, after getting home from a mini bar tour (and one lager) with new friends 🍺

“Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might” (Ecclesiastes 9:10).

The sun woke up over Mount Nittany.

— Sullivan on a morning walk to the park

as reported by Carla:

We just got back from our summer ultimate league finals and picnic. While enjoying our hoagies amongst our fellow ultimate lovers, I notice Sully is yelling something at the top of his lungs…on loop. I ask him if he wants a bite of sandwich (hoping to stuff his mouth) and he comes up to me, hands me a crumpled piece of grass and walks away saying casually, “There’s a four-leaf clover, Mama.” I look at the piece of grass, and sure enough, it was a clover. I look further and one, two, three, four. It was a four-leafed clover. Suspecting someone may have given it to him, I ask as he’s walking back down the hill, “Where did you get this?” He replies unexcitedly pointing around at the ground, “ummm…. riiiiight…. there” and walks away munching his sandwich.

After sharing his discovery with Scott and our nearest conversation partners, one of them realizes that what Sully was chanting earlier was, “Found it, found it, found it.” Ah, the faith of a child.

Oh, and who told him about four-leaf clovers?

as recorded by Carla:

Scott put on one of our favorite classical pieces, The Lark Ascending, this evening. I introduced Éa to it by telling her, “This is The Lark Ascending by, um…Van Williams I think?”

Then, without a hesitation, I asked Sully, who was diligently working on a puzzle on the floor, “Sully, who wrote this piece? It’s The Lark Ascending by ____…”?

He took a moment, still concentrating on his oversized puzzle, and then replied in his classic matter-of-fact manner, “Hmmm…Boathoven.”

He was wrong, but it was cute as heck… 🎵

[I] want to watch the clouds fly to their beds!

— Sullivan, in smiling protest to heading inside for bed

Dave: I didn’t realize buffalo was a verb.
Carla: Yeah, it means to bully.
Dave: Yes, I gathered that from the context.

“Why Money Makes You Unhappy” from Wired Science. The deceitfulness of richness (Mark 4:19), anyone?

Nothing facilitates happiness like a full night’s sleep.

If your car is making a loud, unusual noise, don’t ignore it (unless you like riding in tow trucks).

Stuck in my head: Today, “Roses” by Outkast. Two days ago, riff from “Airbag” by Radiohead. Day in between: Bob the Builder theme song.

I have to say, the fireflies at Spring Creek Park give 4th Fest some stiff competition.

“He who hurries his footsteps errs” (Proverbs 19:2).

I’ve read way too many really good children’s books to Sullivan recently to be able to make an individual post for each one. So, here’s a little list:

• Verdi by Janell Cannon
• Harold and the Purple Crayon by Crockett Johnson
• The Little Red Lighthouse and the Great Gray Bridge by Hildegarde Swift
• Who Will I Be, Lord? by Vaunda Micheaux Nelson
• The Treasure by Uri Shulevitz

“A purpose of human life…is to love whoever is around to be loved” (Kurt Vonnegut, The Sirens of Titan).

Listening to Bach’s first cello suite while reading The Lorax to my son is a strangely fitting combo.

Just taught my son to play bocce. And I think he really gets it!

Homeownership is a major time commitment.

Do we clamp the umbilical cord too soon? University of South Florida researchers say yes.

“Devotions aren’t magic” (Jon Bloom).