Michigan Means Cousins and Superheroes

4th of July Potato Salad

I find it a bit irksome that, when mixing up a bit of potato salad for this afternoon, I saw a small piece of potato fly out of the bowl, and I could not for the life of me locate its final resting place.

I suspect it may be stuck to the back of my shirt.

What? I was mixing vigorously.

So please, if you happen to spy a little bit of something on my tshirt or perhaps in my hair later today, kindly pull me aside and let me know. We're all in this together.

Roadtrip Playlists

This Sunday morning, the kiddos and I are hopping in the (rental) car, rolling down the windows, turning up the tunes, and heading for the homeland. 12 blissful? hours later, we should be rolling in to Michigan for two weeks of cousins, cookouts, and chaos.

Always important in preparing for a roadtrip is creating mixtapes. Mixtapes must set the proper ambiance, and the best mixtapes will walk the fine line between soothing the savage "Are we there yet?" beast and energizing the "I've been staring at the road for far too long" doldrums. This time around, the kids each made their own mix.

Chloe's Mix
Don't Tell Me - Madonna
If I was a Rich Girl - Gwen Stefani
Let's Get it Started - Black Eyed Peas
Hey Ya - Ludacris
No Air - Jordin Sparks
Bleeding Love - Leona Lewis
Breakin' Up - Rilo Kiley
Jungle Gym - Jack Johnson
Through to Sunrise - Girlyman

Jonathan's Mix
YMCA - The Village People
Celebration - Cool and the Gang
You're the First, the Last, My Everything - Barry White
Walk the Line - Johnny Cash
I Want You Back - The Jackson 5
Upside Down - Jack Johnson
The 3 R's - Schoolhouse Rocks
Diner - Martin Sexton
Ring of Fire - Johnny Cash

Jonathan Calls Them The Eye Statues

Right. Eyes or otherwise, I'm going to go with Jonathan's title.

(Oh, it's good to be home...)

A Whole Lot More of Nothin'

Sunrise, Monday, 6:30 a.m.

















We watch the storms roll in almost every afternoon (I've come to appreciate the storms; I'm usually a crispy freckly mess by that time, anyway). The storm Monday brought a water spout with it.

A Brief Vacation Observation

"Nothing" on the agenda is so, so much better when it doesn't rain.
And with margaritas.

With rain, "nothing" becomes watching Caddyshack and Ghostbusters on VH1... which is still a break from the norm at home, where we would be watching LazyTown or Backyardigans. Without margaritas.

Nothing's Not So Bad

Today, 3:30. View from the patio.

Agenda

We leave for Florida tomorrow morning.
Here's what's on the agenda:
1.




I'm curious how long I'll be able to hold together such a strenuous and tightly-packed calendar.

Honestly, I imagine that it really will be difficult for this Type A personality.

A Necessary Deceit

I had made one of those off-hand promises. You know the ones? Where you're completely focused on a task, and your child approaches and asks something, and you nod or say, "uh-huh," which really means "hold on a sec, I'll be right with you but I've got to finish this one thing," but which your child takes as an affirmative answer and goes away happy, and you return to your task and forget the whole conversation ever happened? One of those.

(Or am I the only one who does that? Wait. Don't answer. I don't have time for parental insecurities this morning. I've got to tell you this, and then I've got to prepare brunch for 15 wonderful CFC folks.)

So allegedly, I had told Chloe that she could stay up 'til midnight on Friday. She reminded me on Friday morning just as I was leaving for work, and after a small conversation in which the words, "I said that? When?" and "Are you sure?" and "Mom, you said I could!" may have been used, I did, indeed, recall some vague whispers of the topic.

But seriously, midnight? I understand the mysterious romance and intrigue Chloe felt about that magical hour, but we all know the ramifications of a 7 and a 4 year old staying awake until midnight on a Friday -- a Saturday with extraordinarily increased levels of tears and whining and general misery. Plus I wasn't even sure I could stay up until midnight myself, which would present chaperoning issues.

At work, I relayed the situation to my friend, Rick (who I must say is not necessarily as devious as much as he is an experienced father of two).

"Easy," said Rick. "After it gets dark, distract the kiddos with a movie or something. Then move the clocks ahead two hours."

Brilliant.
Midnight came at 10:00, and we were all safely tucked into bed.

On a Good Day, the walk from our apartment to the playground is a series of "long-cuts." Today it took 45 minutes to walk about an eighth of a mile.

(respectfully) skipping pennies on the police officer memorial pool

the maze through the hedges

Spidey scales the wall

running hands through the water is a necessity


wishing the folks on the party boat a fair journey

Checking out Pioneer's sound display dome

"take my picture up here, Mom"

New canine friends

walking the plank

Making sure the ducks haven't had babies yet

And...the destination.

Life Lessons

Chloe called to me from the bathtub tonight:

Mom, I lost the last three games of Life that I played. You know why? Cosmetic Surgery. And it's like you don't even need it!

Yep.

Summer Church

It was exotic. It was exciting. It was the old wool blanket from the trunk on dry, prickly grass with the occasional lazy, buzzing bee checking out the clover. It was the smell of hot car engines and the sound of insufficient sound systems and gospel organ.

It was summer evening outdoor church at the drive in.

My siblings and I preferred it above "regular evening church," by far. And while I now could muse for quite some time about how a drive in church is missing the point in many ways, I'll spare you that and simply say that changing church things up for the summer does have some merit.

Recognizing that Hamptons and the Jersey shore have siren calls, and you've got to get to the Stone Street Oyster Festival early or you'll miss the best of it, and the pace of the city slows just a bit, City Fellowship Church is doing something a little different for the next few months. We've moved operations back to the our apartment, and instead of a "regular" worship gathering, we're sharing brunch, we're singing together a bit, we're talking together about Galatians, we're journaling, and we're praying. It's been a real blessing to me--an uncomplicated, low-key time of renewal. And thanks to the Galatians study, we're re-considering how the gospel is enough. For everything.

The gospel is the way that anything is renewed and transformed by Christ -- whether a heart, a relationship, a church, or a community. All our problems come from a lack of orientation to the gospel. Put positively, the gospel transforms our hearts, or thinking, and our approach to absolutely everything.

You're welcome to join us, you know.

Instead of Sudoku, Try Solving This

Jonathan wrote a story this afternoon.
Can you solve the little problem he presented to me?
Read aloud and be impressed was the implied directive .

"thestoREubawtthedragianandthePRisis"

Need a hint? A picture of a castle was underneath the title.

Need the answer? I'll put it in the comments.

Sweet, with a Hint of Scary

See where Spidey's top lip is a tad faded? Jonathan fell asleep on the subway on the way home from a rockin' birthday party in Central Park. He sucks his thumb in his sleep, which wore off the little 'stache area. Steve had to hold his hand on the top of Jonathan's head to keep him upright and prevent any red paint transfer onto Steve's clothing. Sleepy, upright Spiderman, sucking his thumb. I wish the camera could have been there.

Just the Same, Only with Higher Heels

As part of our anniversary celebration yesterday, Steve and I saw the very romantic Iron Man. (Don't despair for us, friends, the real celebration comes at the tail end of June, when we're going away for a week. Just he and I, the beach, and a margarita or two.)

At the movie theater, we saw lines and lines of women, dressed in their very trendiest. Sex and the City was sold out all across town.

Steve glanced briefly down the line.
Huh. It's no different than when all the Star Wars fanatics dressed in character and lined up before the opening of Episode I.

Yep. Darth Vader with Manolo Blahniks. That's a nice visual.

He was Tall, Which was Good

I met Steve when I was 17.

He was tall, which was good, because standing next to him made my 5 feet 9 inches feel a bit more like the petite girls that I always eyed a bit enviously at my small Christian high school. He wore an old, ratty Gus Macker basketball tournament t-shirt 5 days out of 7. His hair he cut short, about a half inch long, to spite his natural curls.

He went to college in Glamorous and Far Away California and owned the role of Brooding English Major. He was moving to Germany for a year.

He intrigued me.

Two years later, I was in college in a cornfield in Indiana, and he was back from Germany, finishing his Brooding English Major gig. Email, in DOS format, had arrived in our computer labs. We emailed. He also started writing me letters-- the real kind, on college ruled paper with a black pen. Long letters, full of philosophy and stories and angst and humor. When he wrote, he pressed his pen so firmly into the paper that it left indentations on the next two pages, and his letters become as much about the texture as anything else. His handwriting was atrocious, almost illegible, so that I had to read and re-read to ensure that I read correctly. I can still remember opening my mailbox in the commons area, the smell of coffee and fake nacho cheese in the background, my heart beating just a bit faster as I checked to see if one of the thick envelopes was resting in the space. I loved him for those letters. I wrote back, hoping my stream of consciousness scrawlings would be enough to hold his attention.

We dated, long-distance, for almost 4 years. California/Indiana, Indiana/Michigan, Indiana/Other Parts of Indiana. We saw each other on weekends and breaks and whenever we could. I don't remember as much of college as I should; I was thinking of him and how he was where I wasn't.

He made payments on my engagement ring with the money he made from selling plasma.

We married as soon as was possible-- three weeks after I graduated college and two weeks after he completed his second year of law school. We lived in a $450/month apartment, which turned out to be 100 feet away from a railroad crossing. When the hourly trains came through, the noise and the horn were so deafening that we had to pause in our conversation and let it pass, resuming when the noise faded. I worked nights in the local hospital; he studied through law school and graduated with honors.

We moved back to Michigan, and Chloe was born not long after. I quit work to care for her; he worked all the harder to care for her.

It was not a surprise when he told me that he didn't think law was going to work for him long-term. I knew him well enough by then to know that his heart and his mind loved something different than law.

We talked and we prayed.
We talked and we prayed.

He went back to school --seminary. I went back to work. Jonathan came, and we were four. The years of seminary passed by quickly. It was a strange, limbo time in our lives. Goals and values re-examined. Faith enriched. Grace embraced. Lessons learned, over and over. Steve was a full time student, worked 20-40 hours a week, and cared for the children often. He was a rock.

The move to the city came almost two years ago. We told the kids to climb on our backs, we clasped hands, and we jumped. Wouldn't you, if you knew that was to be the next chapter in the story God (who loves you more than you can ever dream or imagine) has laid out for your life?


This day, Steve and I have been married 10 years.
I know him, I love him.
He still intrigues me.

Now That's a Good Idea

For many a year, the "west coast" of lower Manhattan was home to decrepit piers, deserted buildings, and shady characters.

The Hudson River Trust saw an opportunity to create something beautiful. 5 miles of public use space--gardens, playgrounds, fountains, and the pinnacle of all urban space: Clean and safe public restrooms. My favorites are the playgrounds and green areas that were built on the piers, extending into the Hudson River. So clever.

We visited Pier 51 today.

See the kiddos? Totally unprepared for water play, yet totally undaunted by the thought of wet jeans.

Free to a Good Home?

I oftentimes wonder at the motivations of my fellow city-dwellers.

For instance,

What compelled the person who left their dictionary on the inside railing of our elevator?

Saturday Morning Cartoons

Two with One Stone

Not long ago, Ben and Christy introduced me to Martin Sexton and his very eclectic musical stylings. It's great stuff...almost a new crush, if I'm honest, right up there with my ex-crushes, white hot chocolate, Hulu, and Sufjan Stevens.

Then I discovered that someone with super superior taste had created this Scrubs montage using a Martin Sexton song. A couple of my favorites in one 2-minute bite. Now that's some pleasant efficiency. (Bit of an abrupt ending, tho.)