They've Decorated the Courtyard

The kids call it a Winter Wonderland.

I call it...something else. It is indeed something else.

Well, If You Insist...

...I'll do my best to comply.

Show of Hands, Please

I ate leftover pumpkin pie for breakfast this morning.
Anyone else?

Grandma B's Fabulous Handmade Apron, circa late 1950's (?)
(I wore it all yesterday; if a girl can't wear it while preparing Thanksgiving Dinner, when can she wear it?)

"What are you doing, blogging on Thanksgiving?"

I'm drinking maple walnut coffee
and
listening to Sara Groves, "Tell Me What You Know"
and
celebrating that this morning person can invest her a.m. energy in something
relaxing
and
fun
and
a little bit lazy
this Thanksgiving Day.

Also, I'm gearing up for the final preparation of a Thanksgiving meal for 8. (We can easily make it 9 or 10 if you're looking for a place to land this day. Com'on over.)

But the real question is: Have you read this blog?
The beauty of the story and the work that is being done...and the way it's told...sometimes leaves me breathless.
(Thanks, KJ, for directing me there)

We went to the Macy's Balloon Inflation Event

Kermit was there

So was a shady-looking Ronald Mc Donald
(Notice the minuscular size of the people standing near his hand
compared to the enormity of this scary balloon.)

And Shrek. But he was closer to life-sized and not as full of hot air

Hello Kitty must have been misbehaving; she was tied down tight

We'll watch the parade from home tomorrow morning and call it good.

Have a great Thanksgiving!

Do Thigs

The kids have a rough time of it in the mornings.
I mean, I have absurdly high expectations.
Eat their breakfast...brush their teeth...the kind of things any kid couldn't possibly accomplish in one morning.

And most mornings, our interactions go like this:
"Jonathan, turn off the tv and eat your breakfast."
"But, Mamaaaa....!"
"Chloe, stop messing around and get dressed."
"Ok, but Jonathan's not getting dressed, either."
"Jonathan, get dressed."
"But, Mamaaaa...!"

Not exactly the warm fuzzy way to start your day.

So Chloe, my rule-abiding, list-loving, "I'll meet your expectations and raise them one" oldest child, has created some checklists for our morning routines.

Chloe's Do Thigs Chart.

Wake up at 6:30: check
Brus teeth: check
Get drest: check
Do hair: check
Pack bag: check

Jonathan's Do Things Chart

Wake uq at 5:30: check (that's a self-prescribed awakening time, by the way, and not mother-approved)
Brush teeth: apparently didn't happen today
Get drest: check

Why doesn't Jonathan have to do his hair or pack his bag? I'm not going to delve into that mystery. I'm just glad he gets drest.

Speaking of getting dressed, why is it that my dry cleaner uses bags circa: 1967?
Cuddly and soft as a kitten...now, that's soft!

Jesus and Emily Dickenson

Tell all the Truth but tell it slant--
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth's superb surprise

As Lightning to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind--
    Emily Dickinson

"That same day Jesus went out of the house and sat by the lake.
Such large crowds gathered around him that he got into a boat
and sat in it, while all the people stood on the shore.
Then he told them many things in parables..."
The Bible, Matthew 13:1-3

When I was younger, parables annoyed me. They seemed roundabout,
circumspect...inefficient.
I wanted straight up, unadulterated, tell-it-like-it-is truth.

Parables still irritate me sometimes.


But I'm also old enough to know that oftentimes,


I need the truth, but I need it slant.


(Thank God that He knows us better than we know ourselves.)

Fresh Direct

Fresh Direct: Deliverer of Groceries and Robot Costume-making Supplies


Costume Design by Chloe
Modeled by Jonathan

FAQ's

My blogging has not been comprehensive lately. I know this because many of you have been emailing me with "How are you? Tell me about..." kinds of questions. It occurred to me that others may be wondering the same things. Hence,

Grace in the City Frequently Asked Questions

1. How are things going with the church?
I've been hesitant to write about City Fellowship Church. I feel slightly protective of it, like it's a fragile newborn. But, friends, the church is going very well. God is bringing together a community of about 15 people each Sunday evening. We're alternating between times of worship and small group gatherings. And while we continue to work very hard to build this church, I feel awestruck as I look around the room on Sunday evenings. It is clear to me that God is at work, that this group will be built by Him and not our efforts alone. That knowledge is a gift to two type-A people such as Steve and me. And it's something we have to gently remind each other daily.

2. What's the church's worship style?
One of the core values of the church is "Experiencing Worship: Our worship is an experience of dialogue with the living God perceived through vibrant and creative liturgy, preaching to the mind and heart, and sacramental communion with God through Jesus Christ." Just exactly how that hits the ground is something that we are developing in community with the others in our group. Currently, our worship is a liturgy of three movements: 1. Orientation (to worship and to God) 2. Disorientation (expressing how sin disrupts our focus on God) and 3. Re-orientation (assurance of God's faithfulness and grace). The elements of these movements shift weekly, but in general, we sing a combination of hymns and praise songs, have a strong focus on scripture, and include as many people as possible in the various roles of the service. It's been a blessing to me, and I 'm excited to see how it evolves over the next year. There is much room for creativity within those three movements.

3. But how do you fit everyone in your apartment?
Let me show you why we chose this apartment over the others at which we looked:

When it's time for worship, we can move the couch against the wall, pull out every possible seating surface that we can find, and worship in the round. That works for now, but if more people join us, we'll have to head to Ikea for some folding chairs and modify that arrangement. We've got room for 25-30 all in. The table where Steve was sitting is where we always set out food. You saw the computer, too, so now you can picture me whilst I'm blogging.

3b. Wow, that's some stark white apartment. Why are the walls of your apartment so barren?
Because most of the walls are made of concrete, and I can't figure out how to hang things on them without a jackhammer. (Although the concrete wall is another reason why we chose this apt; it provides excellent soundproofing for worship).

4. What does your day to day schedule look like?
I get up at 5:30, which is Jonathan's favorite time to wake up. Chloe arises around 6:00, and we get ready for school. The kids ride with me to school. I buy a cup of coffee from a woman named Sarah at the cafe near school. Sarah is sweet and beautiful and knows how I take my coffee. She always asks after the kids. The kiddos hang out in my office for the 30 minutes or so before school starts, and then I send them on their way. Steve picks up the kids when school gets out, and I work for a couple more hours. I get home between 5 and 6, and then we usually have a church-type activity in the evening. We try to host many of them in our apartment, so as to cut back on babysitting.

5. Do you cook for all those people that come to your apartment?
Sometimes, sometimes not. I try to keep from being too uptight about it, but I'm not always successful.

6. What's the funniest thing your kids have said recently?
This one is from Chloe just this morning, while listening to "I Will Survive," by Gloria Gayner and twirling around the room: "I wonder how I got to be so good at disco dancing, when I've never taken a single lesson?"

Grace in the City Not so Frequently Asked Questions
(ie: Never Asked, but I Still Want to Tell You)

1. What did you do last night?
Steve and I and the kids went to a local restaurant, where Jonathan was regaling us with knock knock jokes like this:
"Knock Knock."
"Who's there."
"Hawaii"
"Hawaii, who?"
"Hawaii Beach! Get it? BEACH?"
To which Chloe would inevitably reply with a deadpan "No."

The atmosphere around our table suddenly grew brighter, and Steve looked up to see if a lamp had magically appeared. But no, it was, in fact, only the ignited bread basket paper on our table. The corner of the paper had dipped into the little votive candle and started on fire. The waiter quickly appeared and tried to turn the basket over and smother the fire. That wasn't quick enough for me, so I took my glass of water and doused the thing. Voila: Soggy Toast, house special.

2. Have you recently read any books which give good insight into the postmodern view of religion and spirituality?
As a matter of fact, I have. Life of Pi, by Yann Martel, and Eat, Pray, Love, by Elizabeth Gilbert are both well written and entertaining reads that would spark great conversation about truth and God.

3. Is this the longest Grace in the City blog post ever?
Probably. Have a beautiful Sunday!

Friday Morning on the Way to School

Chloe and Jonathan come with me to the school each morning. It's a 10 minute walk to the subway and another 25 minute subway ride to the school. In general, I enjoy this time (I'll let you know if that's still the case when the temps drop below freezing. Doubtful.). The city is still sleepy when we leave, the air feels fresh, and the sun is rising. Clusters of NYPD cops stand on the corners, window washers are getting a head start on their never-ending task, and the coffee and donut carts are pumping out lovely aromas into the air.
I snapped some pics last Friday.

Taxis line up outside The World Financial Center, which is across from our apt. complex

We cross the Westside Hwy each morning on a footbridge. This is looking north. The World Financial Center is on the left, the WTC site is to the right.

Looking south down the Westside Hwy. Battery Park City is one of the last places in Manhattan with room to build. The condos that are being built will sell for millions of dollars each.

Rector Street Station. Our stop.

Chloe and Jonathan are often the only children in our subway car. We make the most of our time by reading books together, talking about the day to come, and reviewing spelling words or something similar. We're starting to recognize regulars who ride the same time as we do each day.

I Just Noticed Something in the Elevator

Our apartment building has 32 floors.
But no, it doesn't.
There's no 13th floor.

It's too unlucky, I guess. And there are plenty of buildings in the city with a similar setup.

But are the people on the 14th floor fooled for even one second? Do they really think there's some phantom 13th floor below them and they're really sitting safe on the more fortunate 14th floor?

Our building was built in the early 80's, btw. This is not some throwback to more superstitious times.

Hallo on this Halloween

A lot of people in this city take their Halloweens seriously.
Today in Starbucks, I saw a man dressed as a Ghostbuster, and it wasn't even noon.
On the subway on the way home from work, I sat next to a stuffed banana. A black ninja was down the aisle, and the "Where's Waldo" guy was leaning against the door. A woman with a crazy short skirt and black fishnet stockings was across the way, but I couldn't tell if that was a costume or just an everyday wardrobe choice.
____________________________________
Steve, Purple Princess, and Buzz are out making the candy-gathering rounds tonight, while I hover by the door waiting for the doorbell and the trailing chorus of "Trick or Treeeeeat!"

It's not a bad job, the Candy Hander-outer. I enjoy all the costumes and Thank You's and the general jovial atmosphere.

But I fear I am discriminatory in my implementation of candy hand-outing.
Yes, I am. Please don't call the ACLU.

When I open the door to behold a little child, perhaps 10 years old or younger, I happily ask them what their costume is, comment on the cute/scary/creative nature of their costume, and hand over the goods. On occasion, there are the really little ones, the ones who are still learning the Trick or Treating ropes, who will stand brazenly with their bags gaping open even after I've deposited the candy. When this happens, I'll smile and throw in another piece for good measure. Happy to do it. Really.

In contrast, when I open the door to a motley crowd of teenagers with half-hearted costumes, I am the Not So Nice Begrudging Candy Hander-Outer. This is especially true when, before I even open the door, I can hear from their "Trick or Treat" that voices have changed and facial hair is forthcoming. Humph! I think. Bah humbug! (which is absolutely appropriate for my attitude and should not be reserved for Christmastime only ).

Tonight, as I was dropping some licorice into a kid's bag, he stopped me and said, "Not that kind! Can I have something else?"
"What!?" I exclaimed, and paused mid-drop.
"Yeah, um...(pause that was a nanosecond too long)... I'm allergic. Can I have something else?"
Right.
I'm a nurse; I can respect a person's food-allergy, but that didn't sit well.

I Know What Chloe Wants for Christmas

How 'bout two front teeth?

Our 'hood

Battery Park City was featured in the New York Times this weekend.
You can read about it here.

I'm a Model, You Know What I Mean

Scott DeVore rocks his camera.

But there is only so much a person can do when working with raw material such as this:

It's Been Too Long

Since my last bulleted list.

And it's also been over a year since the move from Michigan to Manhattan.

Hence

How I've Changed Since Moving to Manhattan
(Shallow Edition)

• My purse is bigger. I now have a serious amount of junk that accompanies me everywhere. Antibacterial wipes. A paperback. My ipod. A small collection of toys, including but not limited to: silly putty, legos, a matchbox car, and crayons. (For the kids, not me. Really.)
• I own a more expansive selection of outerwear and accessories. Rain boots, hats, down coats of three different weights. Absolutely necessary when a person spends as much time as I do walking from subway stop to subway stop.
• I cook less with cream of mushroom soup and more with olive oil. Though a can of C of M still comes in handy in a pinch. And, to be truthful, I cook less in general.
  
• I now can simultaneously watch the sidewalk for hazardous materials (read: dog poop, vomit, and Wet Patches of Unknown Origin) and also look ahead to avoid colliding with other pedestrians . It's a skill that can only be learned from experience. Ask Michelle.
• I eat more Indian food. Also Vietnamese food. Also gelato. And pastries, and cheesecake, Brooklyn-style pizza, gyros... (sigh. It's all so tasty.)
• I'm more assertive. It's a good, self-protective skill to have here, really, or you might not ever get your turn in line or your opportunity to board the bus. Not to be confused with Aggressive or Absolutely Annoying.
  
• My sense of smell has become less discriminating. Also a self-protective adaptation. I'm looking forward to the less humid weather of fall, when the smells of the city aren't trapped so close to ground level.
• I've developed a sort of guidance system via hand-holding with my kids. They know now that if we're walking down the street holding hands, and I move my hand to the right or the left, that they need to follow. It's somewhat like a horse with a bit, I imagine. But it works well.

I know I've changed in more ways than that, and the ways affect my character, my faith, my attitude. But that's another post for another day.

Pigtails, Four Days and Counting

On Tuesday, Chloe asked to have her hair done "different."

This, coming from a child who used to spaz if I approached her with anything resembling a ribbon or barrette (remember that, Mom?).

After a few tries, we settled on pig tails. (Her hair has finally regrown enough since the drastic repairs following The Self-Induced Cut incident.)

That afternoon at parent teacher conferences, her teacher mentioned to me that one of the little boys in her class had told Chloe that her pigtails made her the most beautiful girl in the school. When I arrived home that evening, I asked Chloe if anyone had commented on her pigtails. She told me that one little boy thought she looked pretty and another one told her she "looked like she was in high school!"

It's not hard to guess how Little Miss wanted her styled the next day. And the next.

Those first graders sure know how to compliment their ladies, don't they?

You Tell Me

Good Morning, Blogsville. A few questions for you on this lovely fall day.
________________________________________________
After it rains here, or sometimes just because it's NYC, giant water cockroaches will scurry across the sidewalk. They're at least an inch long and quite bulky, so they can't move as fast as their little German cockroach cousins. I've seen many a person lift up their foot and squash the roach dead, taking out all their cockroach resentment on one (ugly, deserving, just plain gross) hapless bug. Steve once witnessed a little boy of about two, begging his nanny not to kill the nice little bug. The nanny barely paused before she lifted her boot-shod foot and brought it down again with a crunch. When people do that, I feel as if they're doing the city a favor, stopping one roach from reproducing into how many thousands more.
But.
My friend Anne Marie, a long time New Yorker and over all city-savvy kind of lady, once told me that if you happen to step on a pregnant roach, a roach with eggs, the eggs can get stuck to the bottom of your shoe. A few steps later, you enter your apartment with an egg laden shoe, ushering all kinds of mayhem into your very home. Blech. I shudder when I think about the possibility.
Can this be true? Anyone an entomologist by hobby or by trade?
_____________________________________________________
On a totally unrelated note,
Some acquaintances of mine recently attended a different church. This church, brand-spanking new and eager to welcome people into their community, does something that gives me pause.
They give a Starbucks gift card, valued at $5, to first time visitors. Attached to the card is a handwritten note of welcome from the pastor.
And I wonder...
What do you think about that? Would it make you want to come back to the church? And if so, would you come back hoping to see what Week #2's gift would be?

Next Time Around, God, Please Keep This in Mind

Jonathan's prayer at dinner last night:

Dear God. Thank you for everything. Thank you for the world. Thank you for the galaxy, and thank you for dinosaurs. But the one thing I don't like is the T-Rex. Amen.

In an Attempt to Influence the Poll

Michelle recently added a poll to her blog.

"Do you think you could live in New York City?"

Not only can I live here, I love living here.

I'm a bit in the minority, according to Michelle's very official and extensive poll.

If you can't stand the thought of living here, perhaps I could convince you to visit? Check out Tina's blog about the girls' time here (we had a great time) and watch this latest release from NYCVisit (I think it's well done), and then give me your answer. I'll start inflating the aerobeds.

Warm

You might call it a sleeping bag with a place for my feet to stick out.

I call it Theres-no-way-this-lower-manhattan-wind-is-going-to-bother-me.

It's made of down and reaches nigh unto my ankles.
A little poof does a body good.

Back to Blogsville

Come now, I haven't forgotten how to blog. Didn't I warn you that September's blogging would be sporadic at best? I've been busy, that's all. I'm not complaining (really, I'm not), but you should know that in addition to working full time and being Mom and Wife, I've been having church related meeting or dinners every night of the week. Which doesn't leave much time for sleep, much less blogging. (Plus The Office started, which I've been watching in the five minute spurts of free time that I have. Priorities, folks.)

I've got some substantial blogs brewing, though.

Like what I've recently learned about forgiveness.

And how City Fellowship Church had its first Fellowship Gathering at our apartment.

And then there is The Weekend that Seven West Michigan Women Took on New York City.

There's even the blog about how I lectured Chloe on the subtle pitfalls of being a know-it-all, and she answered me with, "I already knew that." (Well, that's really the whole story on that one. I'll call that good.)

You know, I've been living, and things have been happening. I just haven't blogged. I've missed it, really. Missed the writing and the processing and the sharing that goes along with blogging. I'm excited to rejoin Blogsville.

I'm back in the saddle again. Yee Haw.

Excellent

Have I mentioned that we're starting a church?

It's great.

The community that's developing is great.

And the logo is really great, wouldn't you say?

You can even check out our (temporary but still great) website here.

That Answer Was a Bit Too Honest

Last night, I held Jonathan's hand as we walked to his bedroom to begin the good-night ritual. His hand was stickier than I would have liked.

"Jonathan," I said. "Your hand is sticky! When is the last time you washed your hands really well?" (After dinner? Before dinner?)

"Ummm," Jonathan considered. "I think it was...Saturday!"

Right.

Next time, I'm not going to ask.

Tagged Twice and Tardy

Both Gina and Lorraine tagged me ages ago, and I'm just now getting around to posting in response. Here goes:

1. You have to post these rules before you give the facts.

2. You must list one fact that is somehow relevant to your life for each letter of your middle name. If you don’t have a middle name, use the middle name you would have liked to have had.

3. At the end of your blog post, you need to choose one person for each letter of your middle name to tag. Don’t forget to leave a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog for the rules.

My middle name is Marie, same as my grandmother's first name and Chloe's middle name.

M- I am married. To wonderful Steve, going on ten years. The fact that I'm not yet 32 and have been married for almost ten years begets some comments in this city. Steve and I are an oddity (those of you who know us well--please stop nodding your heads in agreement so vigorously. I'm only referring to the length of our marriage here). Example: Steve and I lead a marriage group that consists of 8 couples. Of those couples, we are the youngest, have been married the longest, and are the only ones with children.

A- I am an administrator at a great little prep school here in the city. This means that I run around like a chicken with my head cut off all day long (not my official job description).

R- I am redeemed. My belief that Jesus Christ, the Son of God, died for me and consequently conquered death for my redemption is absolutely integral to my understanding of who I am and my purpose in life.

I- I am an initiator. I like to set things in motion (like churches). Follow through, while satisfying in a way that is similar to how I feel after a particularly arduous bathroom cleaning or lawn-mowing, is a bit more difficult for me. It requires more focused self-discipline. But perhaps this is true of most everyone?

E- I am an extrovert. This comes in quite handy in both church-building and blogging.

Ok...now who to tag? I think Michelle and Michelle, Tina, Susan, and Marissa. Have fun, ladies!

Did I just buy a gallon of milk or the whole cow?

I know that I've been out of touch with things lately because I've been so busy at work.
I've not been paying attention to my grocery budget; I've just been picking up things as we need them.

But yesterday I happened to look up as the gallon of milk I was buying was scanned into the cash register.

$4.99.

What?
Is that normal?
How long has it been that way?
The last time I noticed, it was 3-something/gallon.
How long have I been gone, anyway?

Trying on the Words for Size

I walked around the corner of the kids' room today to see Jonathan scuttle into his closet.
He had a pencil in his hand and guilt in his countenance.
I turned in the direction from which he had come and discovered the beginnings of a stick figure scribbled on the back of the door.

"Jonathan!" I said in my You're in Trouble Now tone.
"I'm sorry Mama! I'm so sorry!" came the voice from the closet.
"Jonathan, come out here," I said. "You knew that what you were doing was wrong, didn't you?"
"YesbutIsaidIwassorry!"
"Jonathan, if you knew what you were doing was wrong, why did you choose to do it?" I suppose I was probing his understanding of original sin, maybe just a bit. His answers told me more than I would have guessed.

"Because...um uh...I was nervous?"
"No, I don't think you were nervous."
"Because I was, um, disappointed?"
"No, not disappointed."
"Because I was just a teeny bit confused!"
"How were you confused?'

Pause. Two. Three. Four.

"Because I was confused! I thought wrong was right and right was wrong! So I was doing right!" He smiled such a confident smile then, sure that his four year old mind had just out-logicked his own mama. Surely there was no way I could find fault with him after that!

How could I not laugh?
Seriously. That boy.
He still sat in the naughty chair, tho.

(Back) To School

Jonathan's First Day of PreSchool
Chloe's First Day of First Grade

Exciting stuff.

Last night as we were polishing off another chapter of Harry Potter, Chloe told me she had butterflies in her stomach about the first day of school.
"Excited butterflies or nervous butterflies?" asked I.
"Umm..." she thought for a moment, "Like, one is nervous and five are excited."
All six butterflies accounted for.

At our First Day of School Celebratory Dinner at McDonald's (that's right, folks, gourmet livin' for us here in the city), I asked Jonathan who he played with at school today.
"Sam," he answered.
"And what did you play?"
"Um, we played Run Around."
Certainly, a worthwhile endeavor with subtle and complicated rules, the likes of which adults cannot comprehend.

Also, I managed to get all 140 students on the bus or on their merry way with no one left behind or dropped off at the wrong stop or other mishap. Phew. These last two weeks may have aged me two years.

All in all, a good first day.

For Future Reference

Benihana: Japenese Steakhouse where the meals are cooked at the table
Benny Hinn: Televangelist with a propensity for expensive white suits

(Some people in this household have a tendency to confuse the two. Not that either one comes up in conversation more than once a year, mind you.)

Jonathan Tenderheart

Steve's parents visited last weekend,
bringing us some furniture that had been in storage.
We passed the World Trade Center site a few times while they were here, coming or going from this thing or that. At one point, Steve's mother stopped to take a few photos, and Jonathan and I stopped for a difficult life lesson.

"But why are they doing so much construction here?" Jonathan asked.

I picked him up so he could better see, and I scrambled for an answer appropriate for a 4 year old. "Once, before we lived here, right here were the two tallest buildings in New York. Lots and lots of people worked here. And then, honey, a few years ago, some people who don't understand God's love did a terrible thing. They took airplanes and flew them in the buildings. The buildings started on fire and fell down, and many, many people died." I stopped there. Was that too much for him? Would he understand the gravity of the situation?

Jonathan looked at me and held my eyes for a moment, testing me to see if my words were the truth. Then he tucked his head into my neck and cried. I looked silently out at the site and allowed him to share in the grief of so many.

His tears were brief as his optimistic and hopeful spirit buoyed. Jonathan picked up his head and looked at me, inspired.

"But they're building a new one, right? And it will be strong, STRONG! "

"Yep. They'll build it so it is very safe. And we'll pray that God protects the city, too."

"They will build it out of BRICKS. Then it will be so strong."

I walked on with him then, praying that God would protect the city and my son's tender heart.

Remember Me While I'm Gone

Crazy Hours.

That's what a school administrator works in the week leading up to the first day of school, as I'm quickly learning. And my recently educated guess is that this will continue through Septeember.

Apologies in advance for what will surely be sporadic blogging.

What Do You Get

What do you get when you combine a 6 year old girl

with

5 bucks burning a hole in her pocket

and

Chinatown?

You get this irresistible example of renaissance art gone wrong, that's what you get.















It is fantastically, compellingly ugly.

Well.

I was hesitant with good reason.

Chicken

I need to go in the kids' bedroom and see if their fish died today.

I really don't want to.

You see, last week I jumped the gun a bit and told Jonathan that his fish (named Tucan or Kipper, depending on day and mood) had died when it really hadn't. It was just asleep. At the top of the water. At an angle. (You can see how I made the mistake, right? Especially after I knocked on the tank and the fish didn't move a fin). So 5 minutes of unnecessary tears later, Chloe discovered that TucanKipper was not dead, but was in fact moving.

That was the beginning of the end, though. The fish is not well.
TucanKipper is now named Green Around the Gills in my book.

(Sigh.)
I've got to go look.

Home

Practice Makes (Not Quite) Perfect

Steve and I have been married for 9 years.

In that time, we have moved 6 times.

Could be that we're getting good at it.

We went from this (see, I wasn't exaggerating about how there was nowhere to walk in our old apt.):














To this, in less than 36 hours:


































(Look, Mom, full-sized oven and refrigerator)















*Notice that the kids have not adjusted to the extra space we have in our new digs and feel they must sit on top of the TV, as they were forced to do in our previous apartment.

I'll take some outdoor/'hood pics and post them this weekend.

Yoo Hoo, Snarky!

I'm sorry-- was someone calling my name?

'Tis sad but true. I am the Queen of Snark these past few days.

Plenty of things to blame it on...

• My office at work-- We moved on the first of August and still have no server or internet access. I'm unable to position my cabinets, etc. up against the wall because of the electrical work (that was promised to be completed by the 5th of Aug). Picture me, my desk, empty file cabinets and stacks of boxes squeezed together in a 8x8 cluster in the middle of the room. The teachers come back to work on Monday, and I am to organize orientation on the day-to-day schedule and operations of the school. Here's what I have so far. Do you think the teachers will feel welcomed and prepared for a great school year?

DAY TO DAY OPERATIONS

1. Arrive at the school.
2. Chase a mouse which has been displaced by the move.
3. Give up and go to your desk. Trip over a box and/or cord for good measure.
4. Turn on your computer in the futile hope that the connections have been re-established.
5. Search for necessary documents or supplies amidst the boxes.
6. Go back to number 2 and repeat.

• Or perhaps it's the apartment. The move is tomorrow, which means we've been packing every spare second. Our living area is now a maze of boxes with 12 inch walkways between the rooms. While the kids think it's fun in a InstaFort kind of way, telling Jonathan not to climb on the boxes every few moments increases my snark level significantly ("Jonathan, honey, don't climb on the boxes. You could get hurt or break something," has become "Jonathan! You climb on those boxes and they will fall over on top of you and SQUISH YOU FLAT! I'M NOT KIDDING! STOP. IT. NOW."). The kids are also bored silly, as we've packed away many of their toys and other forms of entertainment (And we all know: Bored=Whiny=Increased annoyance on the mother's part).

Thus, my scandalously high snark levels.

I apologize to the kids and Steve often, and I rest in the assurance that sanctification is a process that will continue until the day I die.
I also breathe easier, knowing that when I whisper, "Father, forgive me,"
God, in His mercy, will do just that.

Good-bye, Upper West Side

You welcomed us warmly while we made our home here for a season.
Thank you, UWS. We'll miss you.

Welcome to the World, Baby Boy

Kasjen Jay
Born August 6, 2007
9 healthy pounds and 3 precious ounces
22 inches long

Welcomed by Tim and (my sister) Angela and their other beautiful boys, Chandler and Camren.

We're proud to have you join the clan.

PS: It's pronounced Cash-en