It is no secret that I am a firm believer in the importance of efficiency. I am a great advocate of the notion that a straight line is the shortest distance between two points, and my life tends to reflect that philosophy. I try to streamline my habits, and those of the general household, for a maximum of usefulness and a minimum of waste.
Of late, I have begun to observe this passionate efficiency teetering on the brink of barbarism. ('Why bother getting out another clean bowl? Jane won't mind eating her breakfast out of my bowl, and that will waste fewer molecules of granola.' 'Oh, here's another clean corner of the tissue. Good thing I didn't throw it away last nose wipe!')
In the Little House books, we read about a time when people were concerned more with survival than with frills. They raised their own food, they made their own furniture, they invented their own fun. Yet, in the midst of all the (what we would consider) privations and hardships, they prized beauty. In the winter Ma went to the extra trouble of grating, boiling, and squeezing out carrot pulp to colour the butter, because the butter was paler then and not so pretty, and 'Ma liked all the things on her table to be pretty.' In a time when Monday was wash day and just doing the laundry took a whole day, Ma still made the time to brighten her home with an extra touch.
While living without an operable dishwasher for several weeks has indeed brought home to me the monstrous reality of what a bother an extra dish or two in the sink can be, I must remember that this time is only an exception to the rule, and that usually, my mechanised servants are at my beck and call to smoothly whisk away the occasional extra inconvenience that civilised living imposes on us.
Recently I read a description of setting a pretty breakfast table, involving glass jars, plated butter, and milk from a glass pitcher. While the pictures looked lovely and I admired the creativity it took to transform an otherwise humdrum affair into a special treat, my immediate reaction was: 1) extra dishes to wash out; 2) wasted molecules of milk from pouring into additional containers. What a short-sighted response. If our ultimate goal were to muddle along through life conserving as much energy, money, and molecules as possible, we wouldn't be nearly so happy at the end of it with all the extra time and money we managed to save.
It is partly a horror of falling into the dark ages (where, arguably, trenchers were a very efficient way of not having dirty dishes to wash at the end of the meal), and partly a reading of blogs and books that show a true appreciation for beauty, that has motivated me to strive for excellence in our home, and place beauty and graciousness on a par with efficiency for the time being.
There has to be a balance, of course. I'm no Martha Stewart, and I simply can't justify spending three hours on a finishing touch when there's dinner to be gotten. On the other hand, how much more water would it waste over the course of a year to wash out an extra dish or two a day? Could it even be measured, like the long-term effects of habitually turning off light bulbs? And even if it could, and I figured out that one extra serving dish a day ended up costing, say, $3 a year extra, wouldn't it be worth it for the pleasure it would bring us every day?
That's my new perspective, and also my new project for this fall: I'm going to explore the appropriate balance between efficiency and beauty, and incorporate a hearty dose of graciousness into our lives. Maybe as soon as we get the dishwasher replaced.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Laziness and labour-saving devices
There's a telling contrast between worldviews in Farmer Boy and Little House in the Big Woods. Laura's Pa jubilantly recounts to Ma the efficiency of the new threshing machine, which he took the initiative to hire out and bring to the farms in the area: 'It threshed as much wheat in a morning as Henry and I could have threshed in a week, and the straw's cleaner and the wheat better than we could have done using winnows.' Pa is all for progress and efficiency.
Almanzo's Father, on the other hand, disdains those modern farmers who employ new-fangled contraptions: 'All it saves is time, son, and what are you going to do with time on those long, winter evenings? Sit by the fire and twiddle your thumbs?'
In the spirit of scientific research, I think I have determined exactly the right formula to measure whether an invention is an efficient, time-saving device, or a silly, lazy shortcut: whether or not I would do it.
For instance, I use microwaves, washing machines, and dishwashers. Those are clearly marvels of modern invention, and well worth the investment. Doing all the tasks manually that these machines accomplish for me would require far more time, effort, and materials than I am willing to put forth, and besides, these machines use far less energy than it would take to do it the long way. It's definitely a cost-effective solution.
On the other hand, there are things like pre-cooked bacon, no-rub contact solution, and detergent balls.
I have the unique opportunity to review such an impractical and wasteful system as the contact solution because it came free in last month's Walgreen's rebate. And, while it worked nicely and saved maybe a few seconds of my life every night, I must reiterate again and again that the only reason it worked for me was because it was free. Otherwise, I would never have tried it.
The premise is that instead of pouring contact solution into your palm and rubbing the lenses for five seconds, you pop the lenses into the special upright case, fill the bottle to the fill line, and soak the lenses overnight, where an intense solution that includes hydrogen peroxide cleans the lenses for you. If your time is so valuable that you can't spare five seconds to clean your lenses like the rest of us peasants do, then this product might be for you. On the other hand, you spend about that long fitting the lenses into the special case, filling the bottle, and screwing it together, so I guess this really only works for those people that, for some reason, really hate washing their contacts. But you still have to stick your finger in your eye.
The 4-oz bottle lasted me less than a week, so for $6.99/bottle, that comes to over a dollar a day, just to get out of washing your contact lenses. This strikes me as a very expensive way to get out of doing work.
Then there are the laundry balls, which I haven't actually tried yet, but which I can't help feeling must fall far short of their touted ability to help you keep up with the wash. I can't speak for the majority of the desperate housewives out there, but as for me and my house, the thing that prevents us from keeping up with the laundry better comes in the putting-away department, not in the loading-the-washing-machine stage. How many times have you found yourself thinking, 'I really must run a load of laundry today!' and then followed up that thought with, 'Oh, but that would entail measuring and pouring a capful of detergent! Oh me, the very thought is exhausting! Perhaps I can put it off for another day'? No, nor I. How lazy would you have to be to be daunted by the prospect of measuring and pouring laundry detergent??
Almanzo's Father, on the other hand, disdains those modern farmers who employ new-fangled contraptions: 'All it saves is time, son, and what are you going to do with time on those long, winter evenings? Sit by the fire and twiddle your thumbs?'
In the spirit of scientific research, I think I have determined exactly the right formula to measure whether an invention is an efficient, time-saving device, or a silly, lazy shortcut: whether or not I would do it.
For instance, I use microwaves, washing machines, and dishwashers. Those are clearly marvels of modern invention, and well worth the investment. Doing all the tasks manually that these machines accomplish for me would require far more time, effort, and materials than I am willing to put forth, and besides, these machines use far less energy than it would take to do it the long way. It's definitely a cost-effective solution.
On the other hand, there are things like pre-cooked bacon, no-rub contact solution, and detergent balls.
I have the unique opportunity to review such an impractical and wasteful system as the contact solution because it came free in last month's Walgreen's rebate. And, while it worked nicely and saved maybe a few seconds of my life every night, I must reiterate again and again that the only reason it worked for me was because it was free. Otherwise, I would never have tried it.
The premise is that instead of pouring contact solution into your palm and rubbing the lenses for five seconds, you pop the lenses into the special upright case, fill the bottle to the fill line, and soak the lenses overnight, where an intense solution that includes hydrogen peroxide cleans the lenses for you. If your time is so valuable that you can't spare five seconds to clean your lenses like the rest of us peasants do, then this product might be for you. On the other hand, you spend about that long fitting the lenses into the special case, filling the bottle, and screwing it together, so I guess this really only works for those people that, for some reason, really hate washing their contacts. But you still have to stick your finger in your eye.
The 4-oz bottle lasted me less than a week, so for $6.99/bottle, that comes to over a dollar a day, just to get out of washing your contact lenses. This strikes me as a very expensive way to get out of doing work.
Then there are the laundry balls, which I haven't actually tried yet, but which I can't help feeling must fall far short of their touted ability to help you keep up with the wash. I can't speak for the majority of the desperate housewives out there, but as for me and my house, the thing that prevents us from keeping up with the laundry better comes in the putting-away department, not in the loading-the-washing-machine stage. How many times have you found yourself thinking, 'I really must run a load of laundry today!' and then followed up that thought with, 'Oh, but that would entail measuring and pouring a capful of detergent! Oh me, the very thought is exhausting! Perhaps I can put it off for another day'? No, nor I. How lazy would you have to be to be daunted by the prospect of measuring and pouring laundry detergent??
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Modesty and strange men
A long time ago, when I was thickly steeped in Institute teaching, I heard the testimony of one prominent lady, in which she shared how she had arrived at her conviction regarding pants.
Apparently her husband wanted her to wear only skirts, but she resisted as much as she could, wearing skirts when out and about but wearing pants at home because she thought they were so much more comfortable, practical, etc.
One day she was wearing jeans and had to run a quick errand. Rather than bother changing, she decided to run out just this once. While at the dry cleaner, she noticed a man staring at her such that it made her feel uncomfortable. Then he asked her, 'Are those new blue jeans?'
'No,' she answered, feeling embarrassed. 'They're just some old ones I was wearing.'
This strange man then remarked, 'I wish my jeans looked as good after a few wearings and washings!'
This conversation made her feel so uncomfortable that she instantly repented of wearing pants and decided to completely obey her husband in the area of modesty henceforth. Now, at the time I heard this testimony, I accepted it as proof positive that Pants Were Evil, but it has now been many years since I dismissed that little story as mere propaganda. Surely such a conversation must be contrived for the sole purpose of brainwashing gullible young girls into impressionable tastes in clothing. After all, no one could be that lame.
Well. Fast-forward a few years, by which time I have gradually formed some new opinions about clothing, among which the daring notion that knees may not necessarily be immodest, backed up by my husband's approval, of course.
We were looking over some pictures last week, and I was internally whining at how good I looked five months out from Jane v. how I look now seven months out from Ella. The looking good was probably due in part to the pretty little skirt* I was wearing in the picture, not actually too short to wear, but just a tad too close to the line to remain in general circulation. I decided to pull it out of the closet and give it another try.
And then, of course, I had to run out for gas. And this is where history gets ironic.
I was standing at the pump, filling the tank of Michael's truck, because he had just told me it was empty and if I was going out at all could I please take the truck and fill it before the next time he needed to drive it, when the guy standing at the next pump over asked me, 'Is that your truck?'
What a stupid question. With the price of gas what it is, is it likely I'd be filling up anyone else's tank? Of course not. This guy was seriously weird and needed to be repelled with utmost magnitude. I replied, 'No, it's my husband's truck.'
But that didn't stop him. He went into some rigamarole about a friend of his who had the identical truck to mine, but got into an accident with it and was so rattled that he decided to get the same kind of truck as this guy (the one who was telling me all this) because it is so much bigger and safer. During which this guy was pointing out the bigness of his personal truck so that I could admire its largeness and consequent safety.
Yes, well, I'd personally rather take my chances with the road hazards and settle for the better gas mileage, but that's neither here nor there. I don't go about accosting strange people at gas stations and chiding them for their gas consumption and safety choices, either as an environmental/public service crusade OR as a social outlet.
So I came home and told Michael about it, who did not tell me that the skirt was inappropriate for public viewing, but laughed and told me that the guy's attempt at witty conversation was no more clumsy than might be expected. In fact, guys can apparently be incredibly lame when attempting to strike up conversation with an object of passing fancy.
I guess New-Blue-Jean-Dry-Cleaner Weirdo wasn't necessarily a fabrication after all.
*
Apparently her husband wanted her to wear only skirts, but she resisted as much as she could, wearing skirts when out and about but wearing pants at home because she thought they were so much more comfortable, practical, etc.
One day she was wearing jeans and had to run a quick errand. Rather than bother changing, she decided to run out just this once. While at the dry cleaner, she noticed a man staring at her such that it made her feel uncomfortable. Then he asked her, 'Are those new blue jeans?'
'No,' she answered, feeling embarrassed. 'They're just some old ones I was wearing.'
This strange man then remarked, 'I wish my jeans looked as good after a few wearings and washings!'
This conversation made her feel so uncomfortable that she instantly repented of wearing pants and decided to completely obey her husband in the area of modesty henceforth. Now, at the time I heard this testimony, I accepted it as proof positive that Pants Were Evil, but it has now been many years since I dismissed that little story as mere propaganda. Surely such a conversation must be contrived for the sole purpose of brainwashing gullible young girls into impressionable tastes in clothing. After all, no one could be that lame.
Well. Fast-forward a few years, by which time I have gradually formed some new opinions about clothing, among which the daring notion that knees may not necessarily be immodest, backed up by my husband's approval, of course.
We were looking over some pictures last week, and I was internally whining at how good I looked five months out from Jane v. how I look now seven months out from Ella. The looking good was probably due in part to the pretty little skirt* I was wearing in the picture, not actually too short to wear, but just a tad too close to the line to remain in general circulation. I decided to pull it out of the closet and give it another try.
And then, of course, I had to run out for gas. And this is where history gets ironic.
I was standing at the pump, filling the tank of Michael's truck, because he had just told me it was empty and if I was going out at all could I please take the truck and fill it before the next time he needed to drive it, when the guy standing at the next pump over asked me, 'Is that your truck?'
What a stupid question. With the price of gas what it is, is it likely I'd be filling up anyone else's tank? Of course not. This guy was seriously weird and needed to be repelled with utmost magnitude. I replied, 'No, it's my husband's truck.'
But that didn't stop him. He went into some rigamarole about a friend of his who had the identical truck to mine, but got into an accident with it and was so rattled that he decided to get the same kind of truck as this guy (the one who was telling me all this) because it is so much bigger and safer. During which this guy was pointing out the bigness of his personal truck so that I could admire its largeness and consequent safety.
Yes, well, I'd personally rather take my chances with the road hazards and settle for the better gas mileage, but that's neither here nor there. I don't go about accosting strange people at gas stations and chiding them for their gas consumption and safety choices, either as an environmental/public service crusade OR as a social outlet.
So I came home and told Michael about it, who did not tell me that the skirt was inappropriate for public viewing, but laughed and told me that the guy's attempt at witty conversation was no more clumsy than might be expected. In fact, guys can apparently be incredibly lame when attempting to strike up conversation with an object of passing fancy.
I guess New-Blue-Jean-Dry-Cleaner Weirdo wasn't necessarily a fabrication after all.
*
Saturday, September 08, 2007
Solved mysteries
- Finally I discovered where socks and other small oddments disappear to in the wash. This had puzzled me for some time, as I knew I wasn't leaving them in the washer or the dryer, and I knew they did not drop down behind. When I pulled a sheet out of the closet recently, a sock shook out of the corner. Aha! Of course, while fitted sheets remain the prime abductors of small odds and ends, they are by no means the only offenders. I remember now that once, as we were walking through an airport, Michael pulled off his sweater and a small unmentionable fell to the floor. How it hitchhiked all the way to the airport without his knowledge I will never know. But at least now I know to shake out every item thoroughly before putting it away.
- I also figured out why cars tend to creep forward when stopped at a light, a phenomenon which has highly annoyed me for some time. Either they creep up behind me, making me nervous of a collision, or they creep away in front of me, leaving an ever-widening gap that makes it look as if I stopped too short and potentially irritating the cars behind me. I couldn't figure out why people would do this, as they aren't liable to cross the light any sooner and it simply wastes gas to gun the engine. But my brush with the rental car after our last accident cleared this one up for me. This car was an automatic, and I found that when you lift your foot ever so lightly off the brake, the car creeps forward because the engine idles with a slight forward motion. Of course you don't switch an automatic to neutral when you're stopped at a light. So that's why it keeps happening: almost everybody else out there is driving an automatic now.
- I also figured out why cars tend to creep forward when stopped at a light, a phenomenon which has highly annoyed me for some time. Either they creep up behind me, making me nervous of a collision, or they creep away in front of me, leaving an ever-widening gap that makes it look as if I stopped too short and potentially irritating the cars behind me. I couldn't figure out why people would do this, as they aren't liable to cross the light any sooner and it simply wastes gas to gun the engine. But my brush with the rental car after our last accident cleared this one up for me. This car was an automatic, and I found that when you lift your foot ever so lightly off the brake, the car creeps forward because the engine idles with a slight forward motion. Of course you don't switch an automatic to neutral when you're stopped at a light. So that's why it keeps happening: almost everybody else out there is driving an automatic now.
There and back again
We have returned from yet another whirlwind weekend trip, and we're glad to have no more travel plans until Christmas. It was great fun to see family and friends again, and the driving went pretty well, considering, but it's no picnic to be cooped up in a car for 10 hours straight. The girls were absolute troopers and bore their constraints bravely. But we're glad to be home.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Large bills, please; I'm a man of few words
(That's a line from an O. Henry story that has always caught my fancy.)
- We are now two payment cycles into the mystery shopping adventure, and I'm happy to report that the business is legit.
- The perfect house, in my opinion, would have two and a half baths: a full bath for the master bedroom, a full bath for the use of the family and overnight guests, and a powder room for the use of those just passing through. I like our home, and I'm not complaining a bit, but it would be nice if the bathroom we have to proffer our guests didn't also have to house the children's towels, toothbrushes, and potty chairs.
- While we're building castles in the air, the perfect house would also have a demand (as opposed to tank) hot water heater, a water filter/purifier for the whole house, hardwood flooring, an industrial sink in the laundry room, a pellet stove, an immense pantry, and a dishwasher that doesn't leak.
- I'm very much annoyed at the unavailability of cloth training pants for toddlers. I've scoured the stores, including those claiming to specialise in baby products, and there are none to be found. Are people today so incredibly lazy that there simply is no market for non-disposables?? I won't pay the ridiculous price for pull-ups, and I'm convinced that wet cloth gives an extra boost of motivation which moisture-wicking paper diapers simply cannot provide.
- We are now two payment cycles into the mystery shopping adventure, and I'm happy to report that the business is legit.
- The perfect house, in my opinion, would have two and a half baths: a full bath for the master bedroom, a full bath for the use of the family and overnight guests, and a powder room for the use of those just passing through. I like our home, and I'm not complaining a bit, but it would be nice if the bathroom we have to proffer our guests didn't also have to house the children's towels, toothbrushes, and potty chairs.
- While we're building castles in the air, the perfect house would also have a demand (as opposed to tank) hot water heater, a water filter/purifier for the whole house, hardwood flooring, an industrial sink in the laundry room, a pellet stove, an immense pantry, and a dishwasher that doesn't leak.
- I'm very much annoyed at the unavailability of cloth training pants for toddlers. I've scoured the stores, including those claiming to specialise in baby products, and there are none to be found. Are people today so incredibly lazy that there simply is no market for non-disposables?? I won't pay the ridiculous price for pull-ups, and I'm convinced that wet cloth gives an extra boost of motivation which moisture-wicking paper diapers simply cannot provide.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Stuff, again
I've decided that I have too much stuff, and I'm on a rampage to clear it out. It's always such a horrible dilemma between not wanting to hoard and not wanting to fall afoul of an unexpected famine. But I've determined that I must get rid of stuff, once and for all, and simply bear the consequences of discovering, two months later, that the thing I threw out fits this thing which now I have to throw out and buy a new one of.
This is hitting me hardest in the food department. I've gotten rather attached to my stockpile of food, and my pantry has slowly been outgrowing its space until I've concluded that I'm not going to do any more shopping, except for absolutely unbeatable and irresistible bargains. Still, where would I put said bargains? The pantry shelves are stocked high and bowing under the weight, and the freezer has undergone yet another compacting re-arrangement. I even threw out the popsicles (cheap sugar water; easily replaced) to make room for the latest conquest.
The problem is that I have gotten burned from not having enough on hand. I hate the inconvenience and expense of a last-minute necessity (gas wasted running out to the store; recipe interrupted and probably ruined; item not on sale and definitely cheaper at Aldi), so it provides tremendous peace of mind to survey my well-stocked pantry shelves and note that I'm in no danger of running out.
But I need no such peace of mind in the shampoo department, when I'm not likely to use up the sixteen bottles which accumulated on my watch, or the make-up department, where the various cosmetics will probably expire long before I even finish the one stick of mascara that I actually paid money for.
Never mind if it was free. I'm not going to waste any more money paying sales tax on unnecessary stuff. As for the current situation, if I can use it, I will use it, and if I can't, I will give it away. That was, I think, my original intention anyway, only I seem to have gotten sidetracked in my mission to deliver the goods to the poor. Missionary Care Center, here I come. Meanwhile I've had very creamy hands and feet this week.
This is hitting me hardest in the food department. I've gotten rather attached to my stockpile of food, and my pantry has slowly been outgrowing its space until I've concluded that I'm not going to do any more shopping, except for absolutely unbeatable and irresistible bargains. Still, where would I put said bargains? The pantry shelves are stocked high and bowing under the weight, and the freezer has undergone yet another compacting re-arrangement. I even threw out the popsicles (cheap sugar water; easily replaced) to make room for the latest conquest.
The problem is that I have gotten burned from not having enough on hand. I hate the inconvenience and expense of a last-minute necessity (gas wasted running out to the store; recipe interrupted and probably ruined; item not on sale and definitely cheaper at Aldi), so it provides tremendous peace of mind to survey my well-stocked pantry shelves and note that I'm in no danger of running out.
But I need no such peace of mind in the shampoo department, when I'm not likely to use up the sixteen bottles which accumulated on my watch, or the make-up department, where the various cosmetics will probably expire long before I even finish the one stick of mascara that I actually paid money for.
Never mind if it was free. I'm not going to waste any more money paying sales tax on unnecessary stuff. As for the current situation, if I can use it, I will use it, and if I can't, I will give it away. That was, I think, my original intention anyway, only I seem to have gotten sidetracked in my mission to deliver the goods to the poor. Missionary Care Center, here I come. Meanwhile I've had very creamy hands and feet this week.
Economies of scale
As I was trying to put a specific label on my attitude toward our level of comfort with our current standard of living, it occurred to me that 'frugal' falls far short of encompassing our lifestyle decisions. So often we think of frugal in terms of less, smaller, simpler, but that concept only works as a means of comparison. Here's a rather haphazardly scientific and quasi-mathematical way of looking at it:
People manage to make do with very little, and they even manage to be happy about it. We as humans are incredibly adaptable, and we can quickly accustom ourselves to new habits and tastes. A study in something-or-other I read recently tracked a massive increase in what people considered a necessity vs. a luxury item now as opposed to three years ago. In other words, as such trinkets as ipods and mp3 players become increasingly common, more and more people will come to assume that yesteryear’s cutting-edge gadgets are indispensable. Even so have the VCR and microwave crept into pretty much every home, when I personally can remember a time when they were an expensive novelty.
So if it's just a matter of learning to like our circumstances, then it makes sense to choose a lifestyle way down on the cost-of-living meter, and then make it our business to enjoy it.
Sound a bit Pollyanna-ish and trite? Look at it this way. Perhaps you are comfortably happy with your life right now. Contentment is great. But isn't there anything you might possibly find it in your heart to desire, anything at all? Maybe a trip to England? There probably is. There always will be. That's just human nature. We will always want more than we have, and no matter how much we have, we will go on wanting just a bit more. So we might as well start small, because we can always go up from there.
Say your standard of living is exactly average, whatever that means. You take your microwave and your dishwasher and your Starbucks coffee for granted. You spend $800 on Christmas presents (that actually was the national average last year), and presumably rake in about the same. Whenever reality falls short of your expectations - you have to cut back expenses one month, or something - you feel deflated. Whenever you have a bonus month, you get to splurge, and you feel thrilled.
The higher up on the scale of living you are, the more it takes to thrill you, and consequently the fewer the possibilities are of finding something truly out of the ordinary. After all, eating out every day means that eating out is an everyday occurrence, so there is no thrill value there.
Living with delayed gratification and self-denial doesn't mean that I never get what I want. No, in my case, it usually means that I very much want and appreciate what I do get. I find that the potential for happiness is so much greater when my 'thrill threshold' is set low. Gotta love those cheap thrills!
People manage to make do with very little, and they even manage to be happy about it. We as humans are incredibly adaptable, and we can quickly accustom ourselves to new habits and tastes. A study in something-or-other I read recently tracked a massive increase in what people considered a necessity vs. a luxury item now as opposed to three years ago. In other words, as such trinkets as ipods and mp3 players become increasingly common, more and more people will come to assume that yesteryear’s cutting-edge gadgets are indispensable. Even so have the VCR and microwave crept into pretty much every home, when I personally can remember a time when they were an expensive novelty.
So if it's just a matter of learning to like our circumstances, then it makes sense to choose a lifestyle way down on the cost-of-living meter, and then make it our business to enjoy it.
Sound a bit Pollyanna-ish and trite? Look at it this way. Perhaps you are comfortably happy with your life right now. Contentment is great. But isn't there anything you might possibly find it in your heart to desire, anything at all? Maybe a trip to England? There probably is. There always will be. That's just human nature. We will always want more than we have, and no matter how much we have, we will go on wanting just a bit more. So we might as well start small, because we can always go up from there.
Say your standard of living is exactly average, whatever that means. You take your microwave and your dishwasher and your Starbucks coffee for granted. You spend $800 on Christmas presents (that actually was the national average last year), and presumably rake in about the same. Whenever reality falls short of your expectations - you have to cut back expenses one month, or something - you feel deflated. Whenever you have a bonus month, you get to splurge, and you feel thrilled.
The higher up on the scale of living you are, the more it takes to thrill you, and consequently the fewer the possibilities are of finding something truly out of the ordinary. After all, eating out every day means that eating out is an everyday occurrence, so there is no thrill value there.
Living with delayed gratification and self-denial doesn't mean that I never get what I want. No, in my case, it usually means that I very much want and appreciate what I do get. I find that the potential for happiness is so much greater when my 'thrill threshold' is set low. Gotta love those cheap thrills!
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Overheard last night
As I was pouring out my woes to Michael:
Me: So I'm just feeling very overwhelmed by all the looming responsibilities.
Michael: I'm sorry, Love. What can I do to encourage you?
Me: Well, you can always say encouraging things.
Michael: Oh, babe, you are so pretty!
*******************************************
Regarding a new recipe for coffee cake, which didn't turn out as sweet as hoped but which I am trying to get eaten for breakfasts as it is very nutritious:
Me: I saw that you ate some more coffee cake this morning. Thank you!
Michael: Did you eat some too? How did you serve it up?
Me: Well, I just had it plain, but I think if you warmed it up and spread butter on it, it would be very palatable.
Michael: How do you like it?
Me: It depends on your perspective. As coffee cake, it's not that great, but as a zucchini muffin, it's quite good.
Me: So I'm just feeling very overwhelmed by all the looming responsibilities.
Michael: I'm sorry, Love. What can I do to encourage you?
Me: Well, you can always say encouraging things.
Michael: Oh, babe, you are so pretty!
*******************************************
Regarding a new recipe for coffee cake, which didn't turn out as sweet as hoped but which I am trying to get eaten for breakfasts as it is very nutritious:
Me: I saw that you ate some more coffee cake this morning. Thank you!
Michael: Did you eat some too? How did you serve it up?
Me: Well, I just had it plain, but I think if you warmed it up and spread butter on it, it would be very palatable.
Michael: How do you like it?
Me: It depends on your perspective. As coffee cake, it's not that great, but as a zucchini muffin, it's quite good.
Monday, August 13, 2007
On the warpath again
One might think that Horizon milk is so expensive by virtue of its quality. After all, organic always costs more, doesn’t it? If it’s important to you to pay for organic and brand names, then you might swing for the high price tag without a second thought. Personally, I’m not into organic milk (indeed, I’m very rapidly getting away from drinking milk at all), so I would never have given the Horizon shelf a second thought had it not been for a little experience recently.
As I was cruising the dairy aisle early on a Monday morning, I spotted several gallons of Horizon milk that expired that day, and asked for the dairy manager so I could request a discount.
I always ask for a discount if I spot expiring milk, and I almost always get it. Even if it’s already been marked down (usually stores mark down about two or three days out from the expiration date), I will ask the dairy manager if he will mark it down further, since it has to be thrown out otherwise. (Once I snapped up twenty pints of heavy whipping cream for fifteen cents each. We reveled in ice cream for weeks.)
However, when I proffered my request, the dairy manager explained that he couldn’t mark down the Horizon milk at all, because the manufacturer gave him 100% credit on unsold product.
This isn’t an unusual arrangement for specialty manufacturers, although usually the credit is in the 25%-50% range. Manufacturers offer these credits to encourage stores to stock more of their product, thereby assuring the store manager that the product is backed in case sales don’t match expectations. Because of this, I usually have better success getting store brands marked down, as they’re just glad to sell it for something. If the store is going to get a 50% credit from the manufacturer for all unsold product, however, then he’s not going to sell it for any less than that.
So now I know that Horizon guarantees its product 100% to this retailer. That’s lovely for the store manager, who doesn’t have to assume any risk in stocking a surplus of milk, but it suggests that Horizon is building this money-back guarantee into the price of its milk. Why would Horizon offer such a generous buy-back percentage and why would it be so eager to get stores to stock more than the store manager would otherwise feel confident of selling? More shelf space, more product visibility, greater edge over the competition.
In other words, if I buy Horizon products, I’m buying a product with an added mark-up that subsidises a marketing ploy.
This isn’t like, say, Eddie Bauer, which offers a lifetime warranty on all their clothing. That’s my kind of money-back guarantee, because it goes directly to me, the consumer, and it simply guarantees the quality of their product. Horizon isn’t guaranteeing the quality of their milk. Any self-respecting manufacturer would give you your money back if the product turned up rotten. What Horizon is guaranteeing is the popularity of their product, according to their calculations and expectations. And I’m just not willing to subsidise that.
As I was cruising the dairy aisle early on a Monday morning, I spotted several gallons of Horizon milk that expired that day, and asked for the dairy manager so I could request a discount.
I always ask for a discount if I spot expiring milk, and I almost always get it. Even if it’s already been marked down (usually stores mark down about two or three days out from the expiration date), I will ask the dairy manager if he will mark it down further, since it has to be thrown out otherwise. (Once I snapped up twenty pints of heavy whipping cream for fifteen cents each. We reveled in ice cream for weeks.)
However, when I proffered my request, the dairy manager explained that he couldn’t mark down the Horizon milk at all, because the manufacturer gave him 100% credit on unsold product.
This isn’t an unusual arrangement for specialty manufacturers, although usually the credit is in the 25%-50% range. Manufacturers offer these credits to encourage stores to stock more of their product, thereby assuring the store manager that the product is backed in case sales don’t match expectations. Because of this, I usually have better success getting store brands marked down, as they’re just glad to sell it for something. If the store is going to get a 50% credit from the manufacturer for all unsold product, however, then he’s not going to sell it for any less than that.
So now I know that Horizon guarantees its product 100% to this retailer. That’s lovely for the store manager, who doesn’t have to assume any risk in stocking a surplus of milk, but it suggests that Horizon is building this money-back guarantee into the price of its milk. Why would Horizon offer such a generous buy-back percentage and why would it be so eager to get stores to stock more than the store manager would otherwise feel confident of selling? More shelf space, more product visibility, greater edge over the competition.
In other words, if I buy Horizon products, I’m buying a product with an added mark-up that subsidises a marketing ploy.
This isn’t like, say, Eddie Bauer, which offers a lifetime warranty on all their clothing. That’s my kind of money-back guarantee, because it goes directly to me, the consumer, and it simply guarantees the quality of their product. Horizon isn’t guaranteeing the quality of their milk. Any self-respecting manufacturer would give you your money back if the product turned up rotten. What Horizon is guaranteeing is the popularity of their product, according to their calculations and expectations. And I’m just not willing to subsidise that.
Friday, August 10, 2007
Midnight chocolate buffets and silver whale tail charms
Well, the trip was a success, all told. It's been in the works since last October, when my mom first had the idea to surprise my dad with an Alaskan cruise for his birthday. The only possible hitch was the prospective baby, as many cruises won't allow any children on board younger than six months. The cruise left Seattle on July 29th, so when Ella turned up this year on January 29th, my mom knew it was a go.
It's been a long and complicated campaign of subterfuge. My dad thought they were going to Oregon to visit relatives, which they were, at first. The day after they left, we flew out and arrived that night at my aunt's house. The whole family was there when he walked in the next morning, and my, was he surprised! Then came the next surprise when we told him that the next day, we were going on a cruise. That's the background. Now for the cruise.
Well, the food was wonderful, of course. There were lots of restaurants on board, and we took turns eating at the general buffet restaurant and the nicer, sit-down places. The staff were overwhelmingly friendly, and made us feel so pleased by admiring the lovely little girls, who were absolutely adorable. Jane and Ella had a fabulous time with family, of course. We brought the backpack and the snugli, and carted them around with us on all of our hikes.
The ship docked at three places in Alaska, not counting the day we spent cruising around in Glacier Bay and not actually making landfall: Juneau, Skagway, and Ketchikan. Skagway is now officially the farthest north I've been. On each stop we wandered away from the pre-arranged (and overpriced) tours and all the tourist traps, and found our own adventures on mountain trails.
Most of the pictures on our camera were taken by Michael, which means that they will consist mainly of scenery. That's nice, but I tend to like scenery a bit better if there's someone I recognise standing out in front. (My idea of taking vacation pictures is along the lines of, 'Oooh, what a pretty pile of rocks! Here, take a picture of me standing in front of it!' Very few pictures from our England trip have any clear shot at the countryside. Castle? There's me in front of it. Stonehenge? There we are in the foreground. White Cliffs of Dover? That's me, there in the front. English rental car? Me, leaning against the hood.) So most of the best human interest pictures will have to wait until I can get my family's copies.
The highlight on the food front came on the next-t0-last night, when there was a chocolate buffet at midnight. (Whatever.) The spread was amazing. There were chocolate miniatures of everything, not to mention the actual food, which included an incredible array of black forest cake, chocolate pecan cake, chocolate decadence, chocolate-covered strawberries, pastries, cheesecakes, mocha tortes, and the like. I felt like the Cabbie: 'If I'd'a known this was coming, I'd'a lived a better life!'
At every stop, there were various trinkets advertised aboard ship, proffered by the local shops in an effort to get the tourists ashore and in the store. We planned our routes, carefully allocated our one-per-stateroom coupons, handed out the general coupons down to the littlest brother, and raced around the town to collect our freebies. It felt like scavenger hunting, thrift shopping, and Christmas all at once. The highlights were the cultured pearl earrings and stud. The lowest score was the colour-changing-in-the-sun ring. But it was all great fun.
The return journey was eventful and long, and it's taken us pretty much all week to recover from it. In fact I'm going off to take another nap now.
It's been a long and complicated campaign of subterfuge. My dad thought they were going to Oregon to visit relatives, which they were, at first. The day after they left, we flew out and arrived that night at my aunt's house. The whole family was there when he walked in the next morning, and my, was he surprised! Then came the next surprise when we told him that the next day, we were going on a cruise. That's the background. Now for the cruise.
Well, the food was wonderful, of course. There were lots of restaurants on board, and we took turns eating at the general buffet restaurant and the nicer, sit-down places. The staff were overwhelmingly friendly, and made us feel so pleased by admiring the lovely little girls, who were absolutely adorable. Jane and Ella had a fabulous time with family, of course. We brought the backpack and the snugli, and carted them around with us on all of our hikes.
The ship docked at three places in Alaska, not counting the day we spent cruising around in Glacier Bay and not actually making landfall: Juneau, Skagway, and Ketchikan. Skagway is now officially the farthest north I've been. On each stop we wandered away from the pre-arranged (and overpriced) tours and all the tourist traps, and found our own adventures on mountain trails.
Most of the pictures on our camera were taken by Michael, which means that they will consist mainly of scenery. That's nice, but I tend to like scenery a bit better if there's someone I recognise standing out in front. (My idea of taking vacation pictures is along the lines of, 'Oooh, what a pretty pile of rocks! Here, take a picture of me standing in front of it!' Very few pictures from our England trip have any clear shot at the countryside. Castle? There's me in front of it. Stonehenge? There we are in the foreground. White Cliffs of Dover? That's me, there in the front. English rental car? Me, leaning against the hood.) So most of the best human interest pictures will have to wait until I can get my family's copies.
The highlight on the food front came on the next-t0-last night, when there was a chocolate buffet at midnight. (Whatever.) The spread was amazing. There were chocolate miniatures of everything, not to mention the actual food, which included an incredible array of black forest cake, chocolate pecan cake, chocolate decadence, chocolate-covered strawberries, pastries, cheesecakes, mocha tortes, and the like. I felt like the Cabbie: 'If I'd'a known this was coming, I'd'a lived a better life!'
At every stop, there were various trinkets advertised aboard ship, proffered by the local shops in an effort to get the tourists ashore and in the store. We planned our routes, carefully allocated our one-per-stateroom coupons, handed out the general coupons down to the littlest brother, and raced around the town to collect our freebies. It felt like scavenger hunting, thrift shopping, and Christmas all at once. The highlights were the cultured pearl earrings and stud. The lowest score was the colour-changing-in-the-sun ring. But it was all great fun.
The return journey was eventful and long, and it's taken us pretty much all week to recover from it. In fact I'm going off to take another nap now.
Monday, August 06, 2007
Back, again
We have returned from our inspection of the continent at large, and are happy to report that Alaska is very pretty, very breezy, very steep, and very, very many hours away.
If you happened to be watching the local news in Lincoln, Nebraska, yesterday, you may have noticed that a Boeing 767, en route from Seattle to Atlanta, was suddenly diverted there for an emergency landing when one of its engines gave out, which is apparently big news for the small town airport of Lincoln, whose terminal snack bar is woefully unprepared to sustain 250+ people for the 12 hours it takes for the airline to come up with a plan to rescue them. We were part of this exciting caper, and so had a good chance to lose all the vacation weight in one fell swoop by pretty much eating nothing all day Sunday. Our flight got in at last at 5 this morning, and we staggered off to bed with the sunrise, having but two goals for the day: sleep and laundry. We'll post pictures whenever we unpack the camera.
If you happened to be watching the local news in Lincoln, Nebraska, yesterday, you may have noticed that a Boeing 767, en route from Seattle to Atlanta, was suddenly diverted there for an emergency landing when one of its engines gave out, which is apparently big news for the small town airport of Lincoln, whose terminal snack bar is woefully unprepared to sustain 250+ people for the 12 hours it takes for the airline to come up with a plan to rescue them. We were part of this exciting caper, and so had a good chance to lose all the vacation weight in one fell swoop by pretty much eating nothing all day Sunday. Our flight got in at last at 5 this morning, and we staggered off to bed with the sunrise, having but two goals for the day: sleep and laundry. We'll post pictures whenever we unpack the camera.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Fashion tips from the trenches
* When Baby has a cold, wear a print top as opposed to a solid. You will get sniveled upon, and the pattern will camouflage the slime better.
* And wear a ponytail if you absolutely cannot get your hair cut short. Sickness makes babies want to pull and eat hair more than usual.
* When cooking dinner, wear an apron, for goodness sake. Don't think for a minute, no matter how clever, agile, or long of arms you are, that you can manage to stir anything on the stove without getting spattered on.
* And wear a ponytail if you absolutely cannot get your hair cut short. Sickness makes babies want to pull and eat hair more than usual.
* When cooking dinner, wear an apron, for goodness sake. Don't think for a minute, no matter how clever, agile, or long of arms you are, that you can manage to stir anything on the stove without getting spattered on.
Driving up the cost
Finally we settled with the insurance company for the car, which was of course ruled a total loss. As of yesterday the wreck is out of our driveway, leaving me to ponder just what an expensive luxury owning a car is. I read once that depreciation alone is the most expensive cost to owning a car, far outstripping maintenance, insurance, and even gasoline (although maybe that was written before the latest surge in gas prices).
So I did the math. We bought that car just two years ago, at about the blue book value. We received a settlement for the car at approximately the current blue book value. Certainly we would have liked it if the settlement had been a bit on the higher end of the range, but my point is that the cost was about average each time, sans any bargains or rip-offs.
We took good care of that car, giving it all the regular check-ups and oil changes, and until the fateful crash it was never involved in any other accident. Yet the total loss in value of that car averaged over $100/month during the time that we owned it! Talk about depreciating assets! When you actually do factor in all the other costs associated with running a vehicle, then it becomes a very pricey convenience indeed.
So I did the math. We bought that car just two years ago, at about the blue book value. We received a settlement for the car at approximately the current blue book value. Certainly we would have liked it if the settlement had been a bit on the higher end of the range, but my point is that the cost was about average each time, sans any bargains or rip-offs.
We took good care of that car, giving it all the regular check-ups and oil changes, and until the fateful crash it was never involved in any other accident. Yet the total loss in value of that car averaged over $100/month during the time that we owned it! Talk about depreciating assets! When you actually do factor in all the other costs associated with running a vehicle, then it becomes a very pricey convenience indeed.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Potter, r.i.p. (or not)
At some point I've got to write up a long, philosophical bit about all the things wrong with Harry Potter (and no, it has nothing to do with the fact that the books involve magic) and why I dislike the series. But for now, with all the hoopla about the final book coming out (finally! Can we just get over the fad already??), I'll just fall back on my main gripe, which is that the books are simply too lame to justify the level of the craze.
I feel pretty much the same way I did about Michael Crichton and his smash hit with Jurassic Park: That's all?? Dinosaurs coming back to life? Come on, I could have thought of that one! Same thing with a kid who discovers that he's got magical powers. Of course kids will lap this up!
One good thing about this, though, is the number of people who tend to go gaga over the books. These fans include people whose opinion I respect, so it makes me a more sympathetic person to see otherwise sensible people find enjoyment in things that I can see right through. It makes me appreciate their good-humoured forbearance with me when I was just a little bit excessively fond of Star Wars a decade or so ago. For what do we live, but to make sport of our neighbours, and to laugh at them in our turn? =)
I feel pretty much the same way I did about Michael Crichton and his smash hit with Jurassic Park: That's all?? Dinosaurs coming back to life? Come on, I could have thought of that one! Same thing with a kid who discovers that he's got magical powers. Of course kids will lap this up!
One good thing about this, though, is the number of people who tend to go gaga over the books. These fans include people whose opinion I respect, so it makes me a more sympathetic person to see otherwise sensible people find enjoyment in things that I can see right through. It makes me appreciate their good-humoured forbearance with me when I was just a little bit excessively fond of Star Wars a decade or so ago. For what do we live, but to make sport of our neighbours, and to laugh at them in our turn? =)
Friday, July 20, 2007
On Scripture Memory
I've been wondering recently how to measure the value of scripture memory, which led me to wonder whether such an attempt at quantifying spiritual matters is even allowed. After all, we are supposed to hide God's Word in our hearts so as not to sin (is that actually a command anywhere, or is it mainly anecdotal testimonials drawn largely from Psalm 119?), which ought to be the clincher right there. But if scripture memory is an option rather than an imperative, should we or should we not seek to pursue it?
The first and obvious answer is yes, we should. I was encouraged (first by monetary bribes, then by the esprit de corps of family projects) to memorize many verses at a very young age, until eventually the discipline became internal and I chose to learn and remember the Word of God on my own. I'm very grateful for this discipline, because everything I learned before the age of, say, fifteen, I still retain most vividly and clearly. (Beyond that, the passages get a little fuzzier, but I can always brush them up rather sprucily.) I'm glad for the familiarity with scripture, I'm glad for the practice, and I'm glad to be able to quote pertinent passages at a moment's notice so that I might be 'ready always to give an answer' and 'rightly divide the word of truth' (um, yeah, I can quote the words readily enough, but I still can't usually cite them without the help of a concordance).
But I have noticed that when I read my Bible nowadays (or all during the last ten years, more or less), whenever I come to a passage or a verse that I already know, I tend to find my mind glossing over it a bit, skipping through the familiar words as if on auto-pilot while my critical thinking races on ahead. It's easier for me to be struck by something profound and new when it's a verse I don't already know by heart. (Even though I'm already familiar with a lot of the main ideas of the Bible, I never actually memorized the verse in the gospel about 'Look, Lord, here are two swords,' for instance, so it always catches me by surprise and delight.) I can absorb the gist of it, but I'm not necessarily reading with a mind open to the setting of, 'Huh, that's interesting - I wonder what he's trying to say here.'
I'm not sure what the solution is. When I catch myself skimming through familiar territory, I try to slow down and ponder the significance of what I am reading. It's tricky to spot, though - when was the last time you stopped to ponder the staggering implications of John 3:16?
And I really don't think the best idea would be not to memorize scripture. I'm very excited about standing Jane in good stead as young as possible, but I don't want to think that I'm crippling her Bible studies for the rest of her life by giving her a rote acquaintance with that which is sacred and holy.
The first and obvious answer is yes, we should. I was encouraged (first by monetary bribes, then by the esprit de corps of family projects) to memorize many verses at a very young age, until eventually the discipline became internal and I chose to learn and remember the Word of God on my own. I'm very grateful for this discipline, because everything I learned before the age of, say, fifteen, I still retain most vividly and clearly. (Beyond that, the passages get a little fuzzier, but I can always brush them up rather sprucily.) I'm glad for the familiarity with scripture, I'm glad for the practice, and I'm glad to be able to quote pertinent passages at a moment's notice so that I might be 'ready always to give an answer' and 'rightly divide the word of truth' (um, yeah, I can quote the words readily enough, but I still can't usually cite them without the help of a concordance).
But I have noticed that when I read my Bible nowadays (or all during the last ten years, more or less), whenever I come to a passage or a verse that I already know, I tend to find my mind glossing over it a bit, skipping through the familiar words as if on auto-pilot while my critical thinking races on ahead. It's easier for me to be struck by something profound and new when it's a verse I don't already know by heart. (Even though I'm already familiar with a lot of the main ideas of the Bible, I never actually memorized the verse in the gospel about 'Look, Lord, here are two swords,' for instance, so it always catches me by surprise and delight.) I can absorb the gist of it, but I'm not necessarily reading with a mind open to the setting of, 'Huh, that's interesting - I wonder what he's trying to say here.'
I'm not sure what the solution is. When I catch myself skimming through familiar territory, I try to slow down and ponder the significance of what I am reading. It's tricky to spot, though - when was the last time you stopped to ponder the staggering implications of John 3:16?
And I really don't think the best idea would be not to memorize scripture. I'm very excited about standing Jane in good stead as young as possible, but I don't want to think that I'm crippling her Bible studies for the rest of her life by giving her a rote acquaintance with that which is sacred and holy.
Monday, July 16, 2007
The year is on the wane
It's hard to believe that July is more than half over already. I passed up even Friday the Thirteenth and Bastille Day with nary a post, which is a fair indication of how busy I must be. Some quick highlights of last week:
* I discovered that Wal-mart will price match local competitors' sales. Apparently they have been doing this for some time, and if the item is under $10, you don't even need to flourish the competitor's sale flier to get the price, although it is up to the manager's discretion what qualifies as local. This is a tremendous boon in the cheap food department, as Aldi, my best source of cheap staples, is an inconvenient distance off my beaten path.
* I tried my hand at homemade granola, and it turned out scrumptiously. The cold cereal dilemma was really getting to me, but I wasn't quite ready to get up at the stroke of 6 a.m. and fry eggs and toast for Michael's breakfast every morning just to keep him from eating overpriced and unwholesome cold cereal. Besides, I really really really don't want to weird him out too much with any health kicks. He's been most long-suffering with my whole wheat spaghetti and the brown-rice-flour-in-the-brownies fiasco, but still. I'm delighted that he's delighted by this new discovery. Jane and I like it, too. We eat it the European way, with yogurt (although, alas, my spoiled palate requires a liberal dose of maple syrup).
* I watched a friend's two kids on Friday, and discovered what a handful four little children can be. They are delightful children, 25 months and 12 months old, but so active, so inquisitive, so requiring of attention! Even with naps spelling my two, I did not get a single thing done. I read books, I helped share toys, I helped the guests not climb onto the hearth, but there was no getting supper ready or cleaning the house. The wonderful thing is that it made the rest of the week feel that much easier. Oh, only two to juggle? Not a problem in the least. Three children next weekend will be a positive breeze.
*We've been a little addicted to X-Files recently. A friend burned Seasons 1-3 onto disc for us and we've been watching them rather later than we ought each night. I find the endings decidedly inconclusive. We are told that the movie ties loose ends up a bit, which it jolly well better. Meanwhile I cannot be left alone in a dark house and keep expecting giant leeches to crawl out of the drains.
* Jane now knows all her letters and what sounds they make. Ella will be six months old at the end of the month. We may have occasion to be using our passports again ere long.
* I discovered that Wal-mart will price match local competitors' sales. Apparently they have been doing this for some time, and if the item is under $10, you don't even need to flourish the competitor's sale flier to get the price, although it is up to the manager's discretion what qualifies as local. This is a tremendous boon in the cheap food department, as Aldi, my best source of cheap staples, is an inconvenient distance off my beaten path.
* I tried my hand at homemade granola, and it turned out scrumptiously. The cold cereal dilemma was really getting to me, but I wasn't quite ready to get up at the stroke of 6 a.m. and fry eggs and toast for Michael's breakfast every morning just to keep him from eating overpriced and unwholesome cold cereal. Besides, I really really really don't want to weird him out too much with any health kicks. He's been most long-suffering with my whole wheat spaghetti and the brown-rice-flour-in-the-brownies fiasco, but still. I'm delighted that he's delighted by this new discovery. Jane and I like it, too. We eat it the European way, with yogurt (although, alas, my spoiled palate requires a liberal dose of maple syrup).
* I watched a friend's two kids on Friday, and discovered what a handful four little children can be. They are delightful children, 25 months and 12 months old, but so active, so inquisitive, so requiring of attention! Even with naps spelling my two, I did not get a single thing done. I read books, I helped share toys, I helped the guests not climb onto the hearth, but there was no getting supper ready or cleaning the house. The wonderful thing is that it made the rest of the week feel that much easier. Oh, only two to juggle? Not a problem in the least. Three children next weekend will be a positive breeze.
*We've been a little addicted to X-Files recently. A friend burned Seasons 1-3 onto disc for us and we've been watching them rather later than we ought each night. I find the endings decidedly inconclusive. We are told that the movie ties loose ends up a bit, which it jolly well better. Meanwhile I cannot be left alone in a dark house and keep expecting giant leeches to crawl out of the drains.
* Jane now knows all her letters and what sounds they make. Ella will be six months old at the end of the month. We may have occasion to be using our passports again ere long.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
