Wordless Wednesday

Snow days

If a picture is worth a thousand words, I might have to type out a few thousand words to make up for the lack of pictures of snow and other lovely things.


A couple weeks ago, it was park weather and you could almost believe spring would come again.

Then it turned ridiculously cold over the weekend, so cold that church was cancelled.  As in, double-digits below zero with the wind chill factored in.  As in, obscene-for-this-latitude cold.

Then it snowed on Presidents' Day, just after I got home from another morning spent at Lowe's, where I bought major appliances (exciting!) and doorknobs (less exciting) and door stoppers (least exciting).

  

My field trip on Tuesday morning I had planned for our homeschool group was postponed due to the weather.

Guess where I spent Friday?

That's right!  Lowe's again, this time buying chair rail and wainscoting.  That probably ranks somewhere between appliances and doorknobs for sheer thrill.

I had to do it Friday, because yesterday we got another 9-10 inches (ish) of snow and whiteout conditions.  But no fear!  I spent all day watching the snow and spending more money on Lowes.com.  Lighting fixtures and more doorknobs and bathroom mirrors, oh my!

Only this morning did we realize the snow was a) deeper than we thought, and b) stickier than we thought and by 10:00 we further realized that we weren't going to be dug out in time to make it to church.

Around 11:30 the shovel broke.

By that time we had stripped all winter gear off since the sun was so warm, so we gave up shoveling and instead draped old blankets over snowbanks and laid back to soak up the sun.

They're calling for snow again next Saturday.  

Now I know why I keep seeing geese flying south.  Apparently they talked to the groundhog.  Way to procrastinate til February, winter.

So, no, I don't have delightful pictures of my children frolicking in the snow, or the cute snowmen they built that melted by noon, or the beautiful scenery.  

All I have are boring pictures of bathrooms nearing completion

and finished siding on the garage

and moderately cute pictures of us hunkering down and doing school.

Long division may be hazardous to your health

...at least if you're trying to stir-fry dinner at the same time.


Especially using bacon grease, which, FYI, gets extremely hot.


And then when your fourth-grader asks you to talk him through his long division, and you turn away to do so, and then you turn back and foolishly drop a bunch of meat into the pan without thinking, bacon grease makes neat little splatter-mark burns on your arm.


I took a picture to demonstrate, but then I decided a) friends don't post gross pictures of their wounds, and, anyway, b) it didn't look as bad in the picture as it felt in real life, so it wouldn't evoke an appropriate amount of pity.


What may evoke pity is pointing out that I took Ada to her 11:15 appointment at the dreary eye clinic last week, and we waited 87 minutes before seeing the (resident) doctor.  That's 87 minutes of looking at orange linoleum and scraggly potted plants, playing tic-tac-toe, and watching generations of patients get called before us.


At 12:42 we were called in, having missed the time any normal person would eat lunch, and got to see the resident for a whopping 11 minutes.


Even though I specifically asked last time if I should make the appointment time closer to 1:00, when the real more experienced doctor arrives, I was told that Noooooo, we only need to see the resident.


It took him 11 minutes to decide we needed to see the real doctor.


(Actually, I suspect he intended to have us see the real doctor all along, which is why our appointment time was ignored.)


Although it was now 12:53, I informed him that we would be leaving to eat lunch and we would come back when we were done.


We didn't hurry.


Back in the clinic, we waited another 15 minutes, after which we spent 15 more minutes with the experienced doctor, who determined right away that Ada's lump has disappeared and no formal treatment is necessary.


I was profoundly grateful that I was with Ada and not Lizzy, or--heaven forbid--Caleb.

Ada and I had a nice time at the Mellow Mushroom and indulged in gigantic chocolate cookies for dessert.

I figured we earned it.  In fact, I'm pretty sure the clinic should pay us instead of the other way around.

Forget the Galapagos, look at my laundry

How unfortunate that Darwin had to travel all the way to the Galapagos Islands to formulate his theory on the origin of new species, when he could have simply done my laundry.

Introducing Sockimus Solitarios

Though the extinction of single socks has been noted by many observers, this never-before-seen sock appeared in our laundry yesterday.  No one in our household, nor any of our friends, will claim it.


Clearly, the lint in our lint trap has spontaneously evolved in such a way so as to give rise to this sophisticated life form.  Primitive lint, after all, gets thrown away, but a sock like this is naturally selected to live on, at least for a while.


In fact, if it manages to reproduce itself, it has even more chance of long life, passing on its hereditary stripeyness to ever-higher apparel.

On an immature note...

The only thing more fun than tile shopping is toilet shopping.


When else do you spend a whole afternoon pondering whether this is necessary?

If my toddler dumps something akin to a bucket of golf balls in the toilet, do we want it to be able to flush away with a single touch?  I suppose it depends on how valuable the golf balls are.


On the other hand, if something akin to a bucket of golf balls is coming out of my body, I'm pretty sure I should be in the hospital, not sitting on my toilet at home (although I guess not having to plunge before I call 911 would be a plus).


Although far more complicated, and less ergonomic, than eastern-style squatty potties, American toilets can't be as hard to shop for as Japanese toilets.  Are you aware of what they can do?

(photo courtesy of Shaw and Tash in Japan)

The question is, is there anything they can't do?


I particularly love the blue diagram of a butt.  Thankfully you can adjust the water pressure.


The fake but apparently melodious "flushing sound" is meant solely to disguise any indiscreet noises.


And who has never felt the need for not just a pleasant spritz, but "powerful deodorizer"?


Sadly, Home Depot does not stock such wonders in my part of the world.  I'll have to flush my golf balls without benefit of a heated seat or high-pressure bidet.

Soul food

Last week I was looking at a huge list of items I needed to get for the house (tile, vanities, trim, hardware...) and preparing for this week of administering standardized testing to my kids.  I was overwhelmed, which made me anxious, which made me feel guilty because I'm not supposed to be anxious.

So I'm lying awake at night wondering how I'm going to do all this, avoiding praying about it, because what a petty thing to be worried about, right?  Jesus admonishes us not to worry about even the food we'll eat, and I'm worrying about accent tile for my very first-world house.

Enter Sunday, and the gathering of local saints into a service of worship.  How sweet is the grace of God to give us this day among all others, to gather with His people and sing together to remind each other of His good works.

Are your garments spotless?

Are they white as snow?

Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?

Answer:  Yes.  My garments are like snow, not because I trust God naturally with every uncertainty--but because of the blood of the Lamb.

Come ye weary, heavy laden,

Bruised and broken by the fall.

If you tarry til you're better,

You will never come at all.

Not the righteous, not the righteous,

Sinners Jesus came to call.

Let not conscience make you linger,

Nor of fitness fondly dream...

Lo! The Incarnate God, ascended;

Pleads the merit of His blood.

I am weary.  Weary of my indwelling sin that's all too ready to smother me with worry.  Weary of admitting the same guilt to God over and over.  But shall I wait until I succeed in banishing my sin before I come to my Savior?  Jesus came for sinners--me!--not the righteous.  The merit of His blood is enough to cover all my sin.

And Thy love, so pure, so changeless, 

Satisfies my heart;

Satisfies my deepest longings,

Meets, supplies its every need

With such an offer--to satisfy all my longings--why would I hold back from praying about all that is on my heart?

Dear dying Lamb, Thy precious blood

Shall never lose its pow'r

No, never.  Not when I sin in the same way again.  Not when I forget His assurance of pardon.  Not when I weary myself with my own weaknesses.  His precious blood shall never lose its power to free me and make my heart rejoice.  Not even if by Sunday I've forgotten it again.


Because, Lord willing, this Sunday I'll come again to worship; to sing and remember all over again how glorious His grace really is.