32 weeks and 2 days!

Hurrah for viability!

Thank you, Jesus!


If I were...

Emily tagged me, so here goes....

If I could be a gardener...

...I would have lots of fruit trees. And I would have a big herb garden, so I could cook with fresh herbs all the time. And I'd plant so many flowers that there would be plenty left over to make the garden pretty even after I'd filled every corner of the house with cut flowers and given lots to my friends. I recently sat on someone's porch swing who had lots of big, fragrant mint plants by the porch... it was sublime. I would definitely plant tomatoes, but I'm not so sure about carrots. Carrots just sound like a lot of work---and the freshness of carrots just isn't nearly as exciting.

If I could be a chef...

...then I guess my husband would just have to be a gardener. Actually, we'd both be gardeners and chefs together. Cooking together is so much fun. Besides, I'd need somebody to keep me from getting too adventurous. (That cucumber smoothie surely would have been spectacular if I'd just put in a little less salt...)

If I could be a musician...

...I would be every bit as adventurous as if I were a chef! I would write lots of avant-garde music that pushed the envelope. But don't worry. It would still be pretty and joyous and hopeful and poignant and innocent. It would also be heartbreaking and tragic and bittersweet.... but things can only be really heartbreaking and tragic against the backdrop of our glorious hope. Basically I would write music for the 21st century that was firmly rooted in a Christian aesthetic.

If I could be an athlete...

...I wouldn't be constantly bumping into things, for one thing, and my apartment would be a lot cleaner. My sport would never be more than a hobby, but I think that the discipline would stand me in good stead in all areas of my life, making me a better citizen of the physical universe.

If I could be an architect...

...I would first have invested heavily in South American hardwood, because I despise both carpeting and the destruction of rainforests. By investing in South American tree farms, I would be providing good employment for local laborers and gorgeous floors for my homes... all in an environmentally friendly sort of way.

Okay... now I think I shall tag Sharon, and Becka, and Snugbug Snell.

Here are the "questions." Answer five of them, and tag three more friends. =) If I could be a scientist...If I could be a farmer...If I could be a musician...If I could be a doctor...If I could be a painter...If I could be a gardener...If I could be a missionary...If I could be a chef...If I could be an architect...If I could be a linguist...If I could be a psychologist...If I could be a librarian...If I could be an athlete...If I could be a lawyer...If I could be an inn-keeper...If I could be a professor...If I could be a writer...If I could be a llama-rider...If I could be a bonnie pirate...If I could be an astronaut...If I could be a world famous blogger...If I could be a justice on any one court in the world...If I could be married to any current famous political figure...


Centrifugal Force

Wheels are always good for spinning, and the stroller, lying folded up on its side, has been a source of great fun for some time. But the wuggies have found a new game, now, that is positively thrilling. They place a small object on the wheel, maybe a baby wipe, or one of their Little People, and spin the wheel. The object, of course, goes flying off, sending the boys into paroxysms of laughter.

I must say, the physical universe is a very exciting place!


Attack of the Rabid Giraffe

It's lots of fun to splish and splash in the bathtub, but getting lathered up is, for some reason, a bit intimidating. So a few weeks ago, I had a brilliant idea. They love the Baby Einstein giraffe puppet that Aunt Karen got them last Christmas, and the label does say it's a "bath puppet".... Perhaps being lathered up by a friendly giraffe would be so much fun they would forget to be intimidated.

Alas, it did not occur to mommy that perhaps the giraffe might not seem quite so friendly if he was foaming at the mouth.

We still play with the giraffe at bathtime. But he is strictly for rinsing, now.



This morning I was a bit taken aback by the shocking subject line of a bit of spam. No, it wasn't that kind of shocking subject line... quite repeatable...

"Elena, electric chair at little or no cost!"


Took me a second to figure out that they were selling motorized wheelchairs.



Yesterday was a very wet day. This was most decisively confirmed around 10:30 pm, when I spilled a bottle of cold water all over my peacefully sleeping son. But really, it all started when Natebug spilled a big glass of instant breakfast all over himself and the clean laundry.

This meant Bathtime. Bathtime can be quite an... um... adventure with two toddlers, if you know what I mean. One time a few weeks ago, I got the boys all ready to hop in, and as we waited for the tub to fill, naked little Isaiah peed all over the floor, slipped in the resulting puddle, and hit his head. Like I said, it can be an adventure.

But this time I was smart. I filled the tub before undressing the boys. I tidied up the bathroom, cleaned out the tub, adjusted the water temperature, and left to get the boys ready while the tub filled. Like any good, conscientious mother, I of course carefully shut the bathroom door behind me lest a small person sneak in for an unsupervised dip.

Things took a bit longer than I expected --with toddlers they generally do!-- and by the time I went to see if the tub was full...

...let's just say that it was.

The boys had lots of fun wading, while the rubber ducky floated merrily on the floor. One cup at a time, I scooped the water off the floor into the toiled, and the wuggies gleefully joined in, sprinkling tiny fistfulls of water.

And that big pile of dirty laundry in the hallway got a good pre-soak.


Things I learned yesterday

1. Fountains are lots of fun to splash in.

2. So are toilets.

3. Diapers can absorb an astonishing quantity of water.

4. So can little sneakers and corderoy pants.

5. This last can be a bit disturbing to anyone who is unaware of 1.

6. Automatic doors are extremely bizarre, and just a little bit scary.

7. So are swinging gates.

8. On most elevators, there is only one button within wuggy-reach... the alarm button, of course.

9. Likewise, on most bulletin boards, there is only one announcement within reach. The one that will start the largest chain reaction when tugged upon.

10. Dancing on manhole covers is great fun.

12. Trees look like flowers when viewed from below.


Let there be light!

The electrician cometh! After months of extension cords, our working outlet count is finally up from 2 to 7. Let us rejoice and be glad!

Moving from the ridiculous to the sublime, I've been musing about Biblical poetry in general, and Genesis 1 in particular. The other day I read the creation account in the New Living Translation, and was horrified to discover that the refrain "and there was evening, and there was morning, the first day" was replaced with "this all happened the first day." Certainly that's an accurate distillation of the bottom line, clearly and directly expressing the total factual content implied in the phrase. At cost, of course, of the rhythm and poetry.

Until I deeply explored the first few chapters of Genesis, the factual status of the account was deeply important to me. My faith cannot rest on a Book that is demonstrably false at the outset. If the first chapters fall, the rest of Scripture falls with it. "Liberals" may interperet it as mere poetry, but surely that's just an euphamism for nonsense... I saw theistic evolution as something along the same lines as a metaphorical interperetation of the resurrection.

But... then I actually experienced the poetry. Regardless of factual status, to call the Genesis account primarily poetic is most certainly not a euphamism. The deeper I delved into its richness, the less I was concerned with its literal accuracy. Genesis may or may not shed significant light on natural history, but in any case, that makes up a small portion of the meaning packed into those lines. The question of how God actually went about creating life began to seem a relatively trivial distraction from the more significant insights into the relationships between God, man, time, and nature.

It's so easy for people like me to busily distract ourselves with analyzing factual questions as a sort of protection against the life-shaping power of poetry. Ironic that this would be my tendency as a musician... perhaps it is because I'm particularly vulnerable... Discussions of what happened on what day, how long the days were, and how to account for the geologic record are relatively safe. Stimulating and pious, they don't require much change. At the end of the day, the Christian life remains the same no matter how God chose to create the universe. The poetry, on the other hand, is anything but safe. It penetrates deep into the human soul, demands that we conform to its rhythms and cadences... 'tis most uncomfortable to our fallen selves.

And we, too, who are His spiritual creation, remain formless and void until we hear His Word speak to our hearts "Let there be light!"

And there was evening, and there was morning, the first day.


The handwriting is on the wall...

...and the table

...and the chairs