New guidelines for goal-choosing:
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.
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:
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.
John 4 also prompts me to ask: Are there people I keep distant from merely because they’re different from me?
You can’t, perhaps, get living water without letting Jesus dig deep into your soul.
A note on setting Buy It Now prices on eBay: Match the highest price among recently sold same items in similar condition. No need to discount.
“True prosperity comes when you make your business the prosperity of others.”
— David Snyder (his personal mission statement)
This is way better than crystal balls dropping on broadcast television.
Éa: Daddy, Daddy, I forgot something.
Scott: Oh, what?
Éa: I forget.
My daughter was over the other day when Scott pulled into your driveway with the kids. As Sullivan was getting out, she said, “Ma! That boy has no coat on!” I said, “You’re lucky he has shoes on.” Then Éa came out of the car…
— Neighbor Janet
Don’t forget to felt your scroll saw.
— Carla, pretending to be Scott prompting her to keep up with making a Christmas present
I tried Foursquare again last week. I’ve got to stop. I’m like a dog returning to its vomit.
— Scott
“I need a carrot.”
— Sullivan, reaching into the fridge to grab the bag of baby carrots after eating a sour gumball for the first time
Carla [from the other room]: OK, it’s decided.
Scott: What’s that?
Carla: I don’t know.
“When you come back to life after death, it’s sort of like God pushed you out of His tummy.”
— Sullivan, unprompted