I can call you Betty and Betty when you call me, you can call me Al

At our house evolution is alive and well in the form of the names we call each other. If my poor kids ever have to fill out a background check and list all the names they've been known by, they'll need an extra sheet.

Corie quickly became Corie Bug because she was such a cute little bug of a baby. But "Bug" lasted as she grew, and was cemented when she got a VW Bug in high school. So even to this day, Jim refers to her as Bug, or The Bug -- "Who was on the phone? The Bug?"

Dave began as David, which isn't at all unusual, and is sometimes Davey. Still fairly normal. But after a short stint as Bear, Bearky, Rarekin Bearkin, and Beark, he ventured into a rhyming name groove with Dave the Snave, Snavey Davey, Snavely, and just plain Snave.

In the case of Dan, my middle child, it started when we inflicted upon him the curse of going by his middle name. I use my middle name, and so do my brother, my sister, and my dad. So you think I'd have known better. We began innocently enough, when James Daniel became Danny and then Dan. Soon it was Dan the Man, which Jim shortened to DTM. DTM is such a mouthful, though, so before long that had been shortened to just DT, which seemed to stick. Around the house it was all right, and didn't sound too bizarre when I'd shout at football games, "GO DT!!!" Until someone would ask what his middle name was. "Oh, it's Daniel." "????....So what's the T for?" "Ummm......'the' ........"

Garrison, my fourth, has a name that doesn't lend itself well to being shortened, so when he was little and cute, we started calling him Gair Bear, which morphed into Gairby or Gairbin, which soon became Gairbs. Lately, in an attempt to call him something more grown-up (really, what almost-16-year-old boy wants his mom to call him Gairbs??) we've been referring to him as GR, and his nieces and nephew call him G, short for Uncle G.

But I think Susannah has endured the most inexplicable array of monikers. Of course the normal shortenings of Susie, Sue, and Suse all occurred and are used with frequency. But then she started being Pooz and Poozer, and The Pooz. Dan called her Junior for a spell. Jim started calling her Buggy - a throwback to his days with our first daughter -- and that soon became Bucky. That was when Garrison jumped in and made it BuckWheat. Sometimes she's RuckBuck and occasionally RuckBack, but most recently it's been WheatPack. She accepts all of these with grace, and only ever bristles if Garrison tries to call her Susan.

So now you know. I've heard that your name is crucial to your self-esteem. If my children suffer from identity issues, who could blame them?

if you can't take the cold, stay out of the kitchen

I wish I were as thin and young as I used to be back when I used to think I was fat and old.

sigh.

We're waging window wars here at my house. I'm the kind of fresh air freak who gets all claustrophobic if there's even a threat of stuffiness in a room. As soon as the temperature outside crests the 65 degree mark, I'm opening the windows. Sometimes even before, if a flash hits, which has been happening more frequently these past few months.

And I absolutely have to have the window open at night, no matter what. Especially because my hubby is like a radiator -- nice to cozy up to on a chilly winter night, when my feet are cold, but not so much during those times I have to throw off the down comforter and turn the pillow over to the cool side.

So how is it that during the day he follows me around shutting windows, complaining about being cold? Is it some kind of cruel joke that his aging thermostat and mine are in conflict?
Just one more case of the Divine Matchmaker having a cosmic laugh at pairing two polar opposites? Maybe that's it -- either iron will sharpen iron, we'll learn to submit to one another out of reverence for Christ, or I'll have to move to a tent in the back yard.

I'd like a chopped liver sandwich please

There have been a lot of things I've done wrong as a mom, but one thing I'm particularly proud of is my diligence in recording the funny, cute, or especially dear things my kids have said.

I only wish I had started a notebook for Jim. He has on more than one occasion referred to my capris as "koom quats" -- which I can only assume is a derivation of culottes (remember those?) that took a tragic turn into the produce category.

He was telling me the other day about something he'd heard on the radio. It seems some lady was grieving not being able to have more children, even though she already had two or three. He thought that must be hurtful for her other children, to feel they were somehow not enough. He said if his mom had ever done that to him and his sisters, he would think, "what are we, sliced bread?!"

it's so easy being green

When it's this kind of weather, when the temperature is in the low 80s and there isn't a cloud in the sky and a sweet breeze is blowing, I get all like, "Man, I have GOT to hang something on the line."

I've even been known to get clean clothes out of drawers and wash them, just so I can hang them up to dry.

Not really.

But there is something just so deeply soul-satisfying about hanging Downy-scented laundry in the sun, seeing it swaying gently in the breeze. And I love the way the things smell when I bring them in.

I would prefer drying clothes this way even if it wasn't the most energy-efficient, ecologically-responsible method. So knowing that I'm doing my part makes it all the better.

And really, could Al Gore hope for more than that? (Do you think he has a clothesline in his back yard?)

helloooo?

Is anyone there? I am timidly dipping my big toe in the water here in bloggyland again after lo these many moons. I suppose it shouldn't make any difference if no one was reading, but I'm the kind of girl who needs the tiniest bit of encouragement in situations like this.


It's not that I have anything to say, exactly. I just feel like maybe it's time to re-emerge from my self-imposed tunnel. I've still been writing, it's just gone underground, in journal form.


Maybe someday I'll get the motivation to recount my caregiving journey, but I don't think it will be today.


Here's a quick status report, just so you're up to speed:

• We moved my mom into an elderly ladies' home last month. She's adjusting as well as we could hope. It's really a lovely place. I'm adjusting. I think. Some days. She's close enough that we can take her to church with us and to the occasional track meet, and have her over for Easter dinner and stuff like that. Here she is with Lily and Tessa when they were here not long ago (I got to have them to myself for FIVE WHOLE DAYS).




• Dan is almost done with his freshman year at college. How did this happen? We enjoyed getting to see him almost every weekend, since he was only a bit more than an hour away. I'm not even deluding myself that he was coming home to see me. This lovely lady in pink was undoubtedly The Draw:

• Dave is teaching cardio fitness at the middle school where Susannah attends, and she actually has him for a teacher this marking period. Weird.





• Garrison is running track now. Y'all know how much I love track meets in Michigan, right? 75 degrees on Saturday, 43 degrees and rainy on Tuesday. But it's extra exciting this year because Dave is also Garrison's track coach. Some interesting family dynamics going on, as you can imagine.





• Jim and I are planning to revisit our old stomping grounds in El Paso in June. We're on the docket to speak at a military marriage seminar -- the first one since January 08 when we went to Korea. We're excited because we have friends from our Germany days who are living there now and it will be wonderful to reconnect.


• It must be the act of getting old that is prodding me to look up old acquaintances. I've even found my best friend from junior high on facebook, and several of my high school classmates, too. Ahh, technology! Either that or it's my dearth of current day friends. Hmmm. Either way, it's sort of fun.


• If you have had any contact with me at all in the past few months, you know that I'm all a-flutter over American Idol. Matt Giraud (who is now in the TOP FIVE, people!) is not only from Kalamazoo, but he goes to our church! At least he did, before he became famous and all. I'm doubtful he'll ever actually come back, to tell the truth. But he once sat right behind me, and even signed my bulletin. So don't even bother trying to call me on Tuesday or Wednesday nights. I'll be watching. I'll be voting. You should, too.

So that's the Christmas newsletter edition. We're all still here, just older and bigger.

And I think that's all for now. I have to pace myself, you know. Let me hear from you, if you're out there.

at last

Summer is here.

Not technically, I realize, which by the way has never seemed right to me. Who can wait until June 21 for summer to be "official"? The clearest definition of the beginning of summer for me is that glorious first day of summer vacation.

Dan has graduated and is actually gainfully employed already, making money for all the driving he will be doing between college and home next fall. Not to see me so much, more for his sweetie.

It's hard to believe Susannah will be at the middle school next year. Yikes.

I've been only partially successful in getting my mom to abandon her turtlenecks under sweatshirts now that the weather is hovering just below 90 degrees, and we have no air conditioning. She says she doesn't like the way her arms look. I guess vanity is more tenacious than logic. But today she has on a short-sleeved shirt, so that's good.

Garrison now has his learner's permit. Jim and I have insisted that our kids know how to drive a stick shift before they can get their license. I learned to drive in a VW Fastback, and it's been a source of smug pridefulness that I know how to operate a clutch. It's a lost art, you know.

We've been borrowing my mom's 5-speed, manual transmission Honda Civic, primarily because it gets upwards of 45 mpg. And it makes her happy that it's being used, since she obviously isn't driving anymore. So Garrison and I have spent some happy times lately stalling out at stop signs, on hills, with cars lining up in back of us. But I think he's beginning to get the hang of it.

Jim's been traveling a lot.

I gave the dog a summer hair cut.

Danny's graduation open house is Monday and my dining room has been overtaken by photos, school papers, posterboard, stickers, and football clippings. I've been trying to put together some posters and such, and I think I'm almost done. Still slightly overwhelmed at all that needs to be done to get ready for the open house, but I have lots of helpers.

My yard's a mess, but I'm a little afraid to get out there and start pulling weeds because poison ivy is supposedly at its peak this year, and I am not confident I would recognize it. All I remember from my childhood is "leaves of three, let it be."

I wish there was a market for dandelions. I could be hauling in some serious dough, because my dandelions are simply spectacular.

And I'm out of words.

household hint

When cleaning windows, Windex or a Windex-like facsimile is really the most effective product to use. Goo Gone, while exemplary for removing sticky gunk and tape residue, doesn't quite cut it for a shiny, streak-free result on the window pane.

I know this because that's precisely what my mom used today. I was occupied scraping old paint from the walls in Danny's old room, and I thought I'd give her a useful activity so she could feel helpful. I kept hearing her talk about how hard these double pane windows are to get clean, and when I
turned around, the window was smeared with Goo Gone.

It was right around then that I suddenly remembered how thirsty the flowers outside must be, and oh, could she please water them before they got too dry?