Last night we had a fun couple over for a visit. Andy knows this couple from the office, but it was my first time to spend more than 30 seconds with them. They carried on conversation with our boys. We ate chicken and sausage gumbo and cake from Nothing Bundt Cakes. And had a hilarious time playing games.
Over dinner the husband asked me, “What’s in the roux? How do you make it?”
I kind of shrugged and humbly replied, “Oh, it’s just a mix...”
But I should have just told him… “I stew the bones of road-kill raccoons and squirrels, like I did livin’ in the bayou. Swamp rats are better, but I can’t get those here.”
Just kidding.
I never lived in the bayou.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Is there some joke I am missing here?
Yep. That's really what it says.
Someone doesn't know M from N, and they're VERY confident that they DO,
-OR-
they think they're being clever.
Either way, I find it hilarious and had to take a picture. Because that's what I do. I wonder what that customer thought as I pulled into the parking lot, took the picture, and drove away while laughing hysterically.
I'm such a jerk.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Chess Club, First Attempt
My sweet Jackson has inherited quite a few of my qualities. I’m sorry to report that some of these are not the greatest. Crazy hair, exceedingly fair skin, and orthodontic needs come to mind. As well as a slightly ridiculous amount of caution.
You see, I prefer the known and reasonably predictable. I don’t particularly enjoy trying new things. I wish I did, but that’s not who I am. I have to force it. And sadly, Jackson is the same way. Only most of the time, he is not willing to force his own exploration of the new. Usually, it’s forced upon him. Sorry kid. You’re just like your mother.
Today we went to our local library to check out the chess club for the first time. When I first posed the idea to the children, both were interested. But by the time we arrived at the library, Jackson didn’t even want to come into the room. Since that wasn’t an option, he stood sulking behind the observation chairs. Parker sat next to me, anxiously awaiting his introductory chess lesson. I pointed out the pieces, told their names, and the way that each one moves. Which is the extent of my chess knowledge.
Soon, a library lady came over to get Parker and another boy, and sat with them at the nearest table. Leaving one empty seat next to Parker.
Jackson sat down next to me and asked, eager to leave the room, “Can I go look at books?”
“Sure. You can check out the Series of Unfortunate Events, book 2.” By the way, we read the entire first volume today, and are all excited about getting on to the next one. I’m pretty sure we’ll be done with it tomorrow, and back at the library looking for the third installment on Thursday.
Anyway.
Jackson protested that he wouldn’t know where to look for it, even though he knows perfectly well how to find things with our library’s computerized catalogue. Seeing an opportunity, I said, “Okay, you stay here while I go look. Or… you could sit at the table with Parker. Just so he doesn’t worry when I leave.” A pretty transparent suggestion, considering that Parker isn’t much for worry.
I left the chess room, found our next literary adventure, and checked it out. When I returned, I found that Jackson had actually taken the bait! For over an hour I watched him and Parker soaking up new knowledge, engaged and excited, triumphantly expanding their horizons by embracing something new.
You see, I prefer the known and reasonably predictable. I don’t particularly enjoy trying new things. I wish I did, but that’s not who I am. I have to force it. And sadly, Jackson is the same way. Only most of the time, he is not willing to force his own exploration of the new. Usually, it’s forced upon him. Sorry kid. You’re just like your mother.
Today we went to our local library to check out the chess club for the first time. When I first posed the idea to the children, both were interested. But by the time we arrived at the library, Jackson didn’t even want to come into the room. Since that wasn’t an option, he stood sulking behind the observation chairs. Parker sat next to me, anxiously awaiting his introductory chess lesson. I pointed out the pieces, told their names, and the way that each one moves. Which is the extent of my chess knowledge.
Soon, a library lady came over to get Parker and another boy, and sat with them at the nearest table. Leaving one empty seat next to Parker.
Jackson sat down next to me and asked, eager to leave the room, “Can I go look at books?”
“Sure. You can check out the Series of Unfortunate Events, book 2.” By the way, we read the entire first volume today, and are all excited about getting on to the next one. I’m pretty sure we’ll be done with it tomorrow, and back at the library looking for the third installment on Thursday.
Anyway.
Jackson protested that he wouldn’t know where to look for it, even though he knows perfectly well how to find things with our library’s computerized catalogue. Seeing an opportunity, I said, “Okay, you stay here while I go look. Or… you could sit at the table with Parker. Just so he doesn’t worry when I leave.” A pretty transparent suggestion, considering that Parker isn’t much for worry.
I left the chess room, found our next literary adventure, and checked it out. When I returned, I found that Jackson had actually taken the bait! For over an hour I watched him and Parker soaking up new knowledge, engaged and excited, triumphantly expanding their horizons by embracing something new.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Minus One, Plus One.
Lately, God has been blessing me with many opportunities. For patience with my children especially. (It would be great if God just granted us vast amounts of patience. But that would be too easy, wouldn’t it?)
Sometimes I make the most of these occasions, and sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I respond to circumstances impulsively, which is rarely the best choice. Sometimes I remember to take a breath and try my best to reflect His influence in my life.
So far today, my success rate is a wash. Before breakfast, the kids had a fight and I didn’t handle it well. Minus one. We three ate our breakfasts simultaneously, silently, and separately. Parker, who loves sign language, wordlessly but quite clearly stated, “I don’t love you.” To which I calmly replied, “Oh, that’s too bad. But I love you. Now clean up your dishes and brush your teeth.” Plus one.
At this moment, I am simply thankful that God continues to offer me opportunities. Pass or fail, He openly and expectantly invites me to face challenges again and again. He knows that sometimes I’m going to fall short, and I know that He’ll always pick me back up when I do.
Hopefully someday my scorecard will boast more wins than losses. Hopefully someday I will grow up and stop keeping score.
Sometimes I make the most of these occasions, and sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I respond to circumstances impulsively, which is rarely the best choice. Sometimes I remember to take a breath and try my best to reflect His influence in my life.
So far today, my success rate is a wash. Before breakfast, the kids had a fight and I didn’t handle it well. Minus one. We three ate our breakfasts simultaneously, silently, and separately. Parker, who loves sign language, wordlessly but quite clearly stated, “I don’t love you.” To which I calmly replied, “Oh, that’s too bad. But I love you. Now clean up your dishes and brush your teeth.” Plus one.
At this moment, I am simply thankful that God continues to offer me opportunities. Pass or fail, He openly and expectantly invites me to face challenges again and again. He knows that sometimes I’m going to fall short, and I know that He’ll always pick me back up when I do.
Hopefully someday my scorecard will boast more wins than losses. Hopefully someday I will grow up and stop keeping score.
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