September 2023 This and That

Want a good chuckle? Stayed tuned to the end of this post for my "September Silly."

Sean loves football. Me, not so much. Ever since Trevor's leg injury at the outset of his 8th grade season, my heart shudders with fear for safety in this violent sport. Still, it is fun to watch them win! Here are photos of Sean (#55) exuberantly rejoicing in touchdowns by his team:

Protecting the quarterback and ball from the opponent:

They were thrilled to win against long-time rival, Danville, the first shut-out (21-0) against this team in twenty years. Here they are with the coveted winning helmet trophy:

Sean is to the left of the bear (hard to make out his 55).

Here's a better shot of the twenty-year rivalry helmet trophy:

And a shot of Sean with some football buddies:

As more and more people move onto property near us, our once isolated and private area is changed. We've lived here, on my husband's family land, for 17 years. For the first whole decade, I hated living here. In the past, I've considered myself a city girl. I loved walking the streets of Chicago, popping into all the antiquarian bookshops. I loved having access to culture, variety, and people. This rural town did not welcome or embrace me. I was stuck at home with two infants and no connections to support or assist.

Indeed, I ached to move back to Illinois, where I was fully plugged in, had an identity tied to education, and access to the city of Chicago without being right in the city. Yet, in the past 17 years, I've morphed into a different person. I would no longer consider myself a city girl. If and when we move from this location (possible as soon as our youngest graduates from high school), I'm more likely to desire another isolated location. The pandemic didn't help things. Moreover, the future looks threatening.

Of course, Facebook is onto my idle dreams of new housing. My feed is flooded with videos of tiny homes (while I fantasize about living tiny, I'm all too aware that my hoarding tendencies make such dreams futile). I also receive alerts about adorable, old houses. Now that we've faced multiple problems in this old house (air-conditioning/heating system had to be completely replaced in June at great personal cost and well pump replaced in mid-September), I'm trying to swipe past those old house advertisement.

This one, however, caught my eye and I'm smitten. It says it has been well-maintained. The external and internal photos are appealing. But, the real draw? This house is only an hour and a half away from my favorite cousin, Karin. I'm pretty sure my husband won't go for it. It is in Pennsylvania and he has his heart set on moving to an isolated, artsy community in Southern Indiana. But, I can dream, can't I?

I love this little alcove area between the garage and house. Can't you just imagine hours of outdoor reading?

I love this roomy kitchen. Even the wood paneling on the wall appeals to me, although with the flooring seems a bit too busy.

Some setbacks to this idea: 1) We don't have that kind of money at this point. 2) We are not in the market yet. 3) Talk about isolated - this is like our current rural town on steroids - not even a Walmart nearby - wow! 4) WINTER - snow, ugh! 5) SUMMER - Did it really say window a/c? Okay, dream bubble effectively burst! Sorry, Karin.

If I could sell 5 million copies of my book (HA), we could move into this over-the-top house in nearby Carmel, Indiana:

The twenty-some photos at that link are awe-inspiring, but no, no, no - the Meadowview estate is not my dream house! Future grandkids might love the indoor wooden slide, the elaborate movie theater room, the Titanic-esque staircase in the billiards room, and the inground pool. 

I would loathe the responsibility of decorating, outfitting, and especially CLEANING 14 bathrooms (yikes) and over 20 thousand square feet of house! Nice to visit; not so nice to maintain.

Finally, I leave you with a hilarious story. John and I went out for lunch. Where he parked in the lot, we were surrounded by various work trucks. After exiting the restaurant, we approached our car. John noticed something odd dangling from below the car, near the back tire. We both squatted down to inspect this damage we had never noticed before on my car. Suddenly, the passenger window rolled down and the driver in the front seat looked at us dubiously. Doh! It wasn't our car! Our black car was parked just beyond her black car (almost identical, but for the unrecognized damage - ha!). Thankfully, she was good-natured about it. I couldn't stop laughing about it for the rest of the day. When I texted my friend, Beth, about it, she said, "Double win! A good hearted laugh and the good news that the repair belongs to someone else. 😂" She also sent this hilarious gif that captured my response:

Kitty Forman Debra Jo Rupp GIFfrom Kitty Forman GIFs

Book Review: The Tale of Despereaux

Kate DiCamillo is one of my favorite children's authors. Her books hold timeless truth and suck the imagination into alternate realities with compelling characters and plots. I will never forget the experience of listening to Ms. Sharon McKee read this book aloud to her third-grade class in DeKalb all those years ago. The eagerness of the students for each read-aloud session was palpable. That is the sign of a truly outstanding book (and also of a truly great narrator, Ms. McKee).

The Tale of Despereaux tells of a small mouse, an abused servant girl, some rats, and a princess. It communicates the light available for our dark world through story. It emphasizes the tremendous power of love. In a kingdom saddened by the death of a queen, Despereaux is born to fulfill a purpose he cannot imagine. Even though all the mice are against him, love drives him to right a wrong. Every child needs to hear this story as a reminder you can overcome darkness with light, and hatred with love. 

Of course, in seeking an accompanying photo from Amazon, I discovered many negative reviews (in most, the readers didn't finish the story). They argue the tale is "incredibly dark," and "promotes evil and torture," "makes light of child abuse and death." I would argue that children are going to encounter darkness in this world where sin is rampant. Yes, they might even encounter death (indeed, one boy in that class mentioned above had already lost his 2-year-old sister). Some may know what it is like to be abused or to be dismissed because they do not fit the mold. If you stop there, of course it is incredibly depressing and demoralizing. But redemption shines throughout the tale. We live in a dark world, yet the light can penetrate the darkness if you bother to light a candle. (Sin exists to reveal our need of a Savior.) Kate DiCamillo's message is clear. Story holds healing power, but only if you see it through to the end. One abandoning reader remarked, "at what cost for the journey?" Journeys that cost are often the most worthwhile. If you've never read this book, please do so now and let me know if, after fully reading it, you regret that decision.

Book Review: Freezing and Thawing

Last year, one of my favorite Christmas gifts from my husband was my blogging friend Maria Novajosky's new book, An Ocean, an Airplane, and Two Countries Full of Kisses. This year, my husband snagged the newest book from my writer friend Kyle L. White (from my old writer's group in Illinois), Freezing and Thawing: New and Revised Stories from the Midwest. Not only that, he bought my favorite print from his on-line store. I propped it up in my bookish desk alongside another gem he found - a small motivational decoration that reads "Write Your Own Story."

Freezing and Thawing - What an adventure! Old familiar paths (circus museum, my favorite) branch off into invigorating new terrain (an essay comparing writing to hunting). As always, before you realize it, casual observation slips into deeper territory. From the comedy of an in-house haircut (thank you, pandemic) illustrating our need to care for one another, to removal of a fish hook prompting reflections on God's touch in our wounds. White's words trigger contemplation and conviction. They induce self-assessment. They remind of God's grace. What rises to the surface is the most important question of all: Am I living and loving as I should?

A Bit Down Despite the Anticipation of Good Things

I am looking forward to leaving for Central Bible & Leadership Institute this weekend. I am! But, I'm feeling a bit down about it as well. We had planned to drop Sean off at his grandma's house and then Trevor and I would drive on to DeKalb for a brief visit with our good friends, the Olsen family, before heading to the camp on Saturday morning. Now, plans have changed and I'm feeling depressed about the whole thing.

Grandma called on Sunday night to say that she didn't think she could keep Sean after all. Her knee (which is in sore need of a further replacement surgery) has been excruciatingly painful of late. She came over to see her Indiana doctor concerning it, but he couldn't get her in for surgery until September. I feel bad for her that she is in pain and I fully understand her backing out, but I am reeling with sadness over the loss of my vision of what this CBLI would have been like. Since it was supposed to only be Trevor and me, I was going to be able to leave him for his free time and have the entire afternoons to myself (allowing me to be in the brass band for the first time and allowing me to read and write to my heart's content every afternoon). Yes, my feelings are based in complete selfishness.

Thankfully, the camp is willing to allow Sean to join us after all. They couldn't alter the housing arrangements, so he will be sleeping on the floor in a sleeping bag (I think he thinks he's going to climb in the twin bed with me). Plus, we weren't given the housing assignment we requested (things were very tight this year and there must be a huge number coming), so we are in a small private room with shared bath facilities. This means that the boys will have to go down the hall and use the men's room by themselves for their showers and other bathroom needs. I'm a bit worried that Sean, at seven, will not be able to fully handle that.

Still, I'm relieved that the boys have taken the changes so well. I was worried Sean would be upset about going and, equally worried, that Trevor would be very upset because it was no longer his private little experience with Mom. They both seem to have adjusted to the idea. It is only me dragging my heels and feeling discouraged. They are excited because the annual field trip for the Jr. CBLI track is going to be to a trampoline park this year (yikes - now I'm worried about injury).

My sadness is also streaming up from another place within. One of my friends in The Salvation Army, Steve, just lost his battle with cancer and has gone to be with the Lord. If you could see all the messages, condolences and remembrances, photos and stories, being posted on the Facebook feed, you would know just how vast an impact he made during his forty-some years on this earth. He was a humble man and always there with a good word. He poured his life into drawing people closer to the Lord. He ministered in Haiti, where he married a Haitian woman and went on to have one son, who is now about six years old (how I pray for his wife and son as they go on without him). I was able to hear him preach during the CMI alumni event five years ago and I remember his message stirring my soul. We are all (those of us in the Central Territory of The Salvation Army, who knew him) reeling with the loss of this fine, effective young man. God used his life in a mighty way, but for reasons unknown to us decided to call him home.

When I was in college, his parents blessed me immensely by taking me into their home every Sunday. I would catch a ride to the corps with a professor from Wheaton College and then go home with the Diaz family for lunch and to spend an afternoon studying. They then gave me dinner and returned me to the corps for the evening meeting, where I caught a ride with the same professor back to campus again. His parents were such godly, generous people. I smile when I think about the fact that Steve is being reunited with his parents (who have both already passed away) and being embraced by the arms of God. So, here again, even though there is good (what could be better than grasping eternity with the Saviour) it is mingled with sadness for the loss we feel here on earth.

Seeing all the accolades and expressions of grief has also caused me to take a step back and look at my own life. It causes one to ask whether the life you are living is making as big an impact as this other life has. How would I be remembered when I pass on? So, there is a sense of frustration that my life has such little impact in the face of things. Here I sit at my little kitchen table with a keyboard and very little else to show for my time (apart from the raising of some feisty boys). I don't know how to remedy that, only that I wish my life counted for even half as much as Steve's. I suppose the thing is to give it back to the Lord and ask Him to make of my life what he wishes. After all, He is the one who has led me into this isolated existence here in Indiana, and He is the only one who could take whatever I have to offer and turn it into anything of value. As I've said before, my job is just to show up.

I'm pretty sure my blog will fall into dead air for the next week or so while I'm gone. I haven't been reading as much lately and I don't know what kind of reception for wifi I will have when I am at camp. If my only reception is during meetings and classes, then that really doesn't help at all. Know that I intend to resume regular posting once I return in early August. I pray that it will be a spiritually enriching experience for both myself and my boys. I pray that all the glitches will work themselves out smoothly and that my own emotions will allow for enjoyment. We are blessed to have this opportunity, no matter what form it comes in.

Weekend in DeKalb

Since I'm going to be fairly busy writing a novel during the month of November (NANOWRIMO), I thought I would save some family updates for later. A few weekends back, the little boys and I drove all the way up to a friend's house in Wisconsin to pick up a picture, then drove down to DeKalb for a day.

Trevor's favorite part of our time in DeKalb would have to be the time we spent at the skate park. He is sincerely wishing that criminal activity hadn't closed the one closest to us (a half hour away - but that seems close when you live in the country). Here are some shots of the boys at the skate park:








It cracked me up when, in the middle of skating, Trevor decided he had to stop for a moment to get his black book and draw something cool in it. So Trevor!

After our time at the skate park, we stopped in to visit with our old friends, Andy and Renee, and their five children. The boys had a wonderful time playing with the kids and I enjoyed some quiet conversation with grown-ups.

Friday night, we drove out to Waterman, IL, to ride Pete's Train. This was a tradition I used to keep with my oldest son for years, back when we lived in DeKalb. Back then, the train was free. This time, we were charged a $7.00 per person fee for the pumpkin train (including picking a SMALL pumpkin from a patch mid-way through the ride) and a walk through a small, boring haunted house. It seemed like there were less lights than there used to be. Plus, it was definitely not worth $7.00 ($3, maybe, but $7??).

Here you can see that Trevor was none too excited to start with:




Plus, he felt compelled to do the thinker pose for the final picture!

On Saturday, we rounded out our visit with a trip to the free STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering and Math) conference at the DeKalb Convocation Center. The advertisements had shown one of those large balls filled with electricity, where the slightest touch causes your hair to stand on end. I had lured them into this activity with promises of seeing this hands-on display. Sadly, we never found such a booth or exhibit. Rats!

Still, the boys enjoyed the various booths:

Robots lifting inflated tubes to place on a pole.

Sean dressed in the full regalia of a scientist in the Antartic.

By the time we were finishing walking around and seeing tons of cool things (balls that balance in mid-air, foil boats which hold numerous pennies, optical illusions, light-up sticks, etc.) the boys were exhausted and ready to head home.

Book Review: Wisconsin River of Grace

"Ghosts and kielbasa. Blow guns and flying whitetails. Abraham Lincoln and the Wisconsin-Illinois Truce of '07. Aldo Leopold's warning. Icelandic immigrants who wave. These are just a few of the mysteries of Wisconsin River of Grace, a book that explores the irresistible pull of God's Country.

"Kyle White's essays are full of humor and reflection, delving into that sense of place for which we all long. Pining for Wisconsin, White resides in northern Illinois with his wife and children."

I decided to begin my review with the brief blurb found on the back of Kyle's book, because I have a faint suspicion that I will not stick with description of the book. To me, this book is so much more than just what fills its pages. I loved every minute of the "read." Then again, I will admit that I am slightly biased.

When I lived in DeKalb, Illinois, I took the correspondence course on writing for children which is offered by the Institute of Children's Literature. For my tenth and final assignment, I decided to select the novel option. I had a sound idea. I had interesting characters. I had intrigue. I had plot development. Still ... I got stuck. Month followed month and I failed to turn in my assignment. I began to moan about this fact to other members of my church, members who were clearly interested in writing just like me. My complaints morphed into a small writer's group.

We met once a month with the hope of spurring one another on. Did I ever finish the novel assignment? Well, no, not really. I did turn in the first three chapters and my instructor did say that she really wished she could use the idea (because it was a good one - indeed, one I should be spending time on these days, since that book is actually set right here where we live). However, I did come to relish the grand opportunities I had for spurring on other writers. Many of the members of our motley crew writer's group, went on to achieve success and publication. I still sit in the wings cheering them on.

But, I continue to cheer because I know how often words written by someone else will bless and move me right down to my soul. That is how I feel about Kyle's writing. Back when our group met, he would bring his poetry. We always knew what to expect ... some clever image drawn, some laughter and amused chortling, followed by a slight pause as the understanding of a deeper image, a more significant parallel suddenly made its way into our consciousness. Kyle has a true gift for drawing his reader in with frivolity and humor, which gives way to deeper insight and meaningful wisdom.

For example, one of my favorite pieces has to be the one about the circus museum in Baraboo, Wisconsin. Kyle begins a light-hearted vignette of a family trip to visit the circus museum. After describing all the amazing things one can see at this circus museum though, he begins to point out the error in logic for a circus museum. The circus was something that went on the road, taking these amazing spectacles out to the people, not expecting the people to come to the museum to find the greatest show on earth. As he drives this home, you begin to see that he is no longer talking about the greatest show on earth, but has shifted to key insights about the greatest news on earth ... the gospel.

Other essays in the book, carry equivalent depths of meaning as he discusses death, the way a place can shape and mold us, the writer's goal of capturing words, the significance of relationship and the importance of the seasons (love his letter of recommendation, titled "To Whom it May Concern," on behalf of autumn for the position left vacant by summer). It is packed full of fun, insightful vignettes. A perfect choice for a few minutes snatched here and there. And if you also pine for Wisconsin, well you'll get the feeling you are glancing through someone else's scrapbook of their experiences with that state.

As for me, I was born in the state of misery ... I mean, Missouri. I'm not sure it would be safe or wise to attempt to pattern my writing after Kyle's. I'm also not sure I'd be able to plumb depths of wisdom from my experiences there. Most of my memories are from time spent in Bourbon, Missouri. We didn't drink there (alas, Kyle, I don't think I will ever come to drinking beer ... although I might come to drinking coffee late, as you did). We attended a Salvation Army camp there every summer. Although, I might be able to dredge up a fair amount of nostalgia for Webster Groves (a wonderful place to live - and when I looked it up, it appears their slogan is something like "a great place to live, work and play!" Although, then I looked up West Plains, MO, my birth town, and their slogan is "a great place to live, learn, work and play," so maybe more is going on there, although I don't remember quite as much, especially since we moved when I was 3 weeks old - hee-hee).

Kyle's book can be purchased through Cornerstone Press. To view a sampling of the essays in the book, you can visit Kyle's blog here.

The Weekend Was a Bright Beautiful Blur

It seems, these days, that each and every one of my 24 hours is spoken for. My mind is preoccupied with a few gifts that still need purchasing, cookies I hope to bake, Christmas cards or letters I would like to send out (but every photo session is determined to undermine), household management while my (neater than I) husband has a few days off of work, and constant prayers for a peaceful family gathering at my house shortly after Christmas. Thus, I find myself a week late in updating on our whirlwind trip back to DeKalb.

Last weekend, a good friend from my former writer's group, Kyle White, hosted a book signing at the Borders in DeKalb. I decided to bring the two little boys with me, so that I could provide them with memories of the many traditions I used to share with ES at Christmas time, back when we lived in DeKalb.

We had a fabulous time. Such a good time, in fact, that MS claimed on Saturday evening that it had been the "best day of his life." This was especially endearing since the majority of our activities were geared towards appealing to my train-loving YS.

We started with a free carriage ride through downtown DeKalb. This was something we had always tried to fit in when we lived in DeKalb. The last year we were there (Christmas 2005), it was bitterly cold and ES and MS and I huddled together on our supposed "final DeKalb carriage ride." This year, the temperatures were more agreeable.

Next, we waited to enter Santa's little cottage. The boys were overly excited and running up and down the ramp and trying to grab handfuls of snow less than cooperative about standing still in line, as I tried to contact a few friends to arrange visits. I'm glad that we had already visited Santa in Indiana, because a mother and grandmother in line behind us began to pressure me to give up my spot in line because they were scheduled to attend the 2 p.m. showing of the Nutcracker and had decided to quickly squeeze this little visit to Santa in.

If I had been living in DeKalb, I would have happily granted their request, but I was feeling a bit put out since I only had a few mere hours to enjoy the town I still remember fondly as home. Thus, I told them we were under time constraints as well and merely rushed the boys through their visit with Santa. Thankfully, I'm sure the people behind us still made it to the Nutcracker on time.

After Santa, we enjoyed visits, first, with my friend Laura M., and then, with Andy & Renee and their kids. The little boys had a blast. They fed goats at Laura's house and played with her dogs and toys. They also thoroughly enjoying playing with the toys and kids at Andy & Renee's, but did mourn the fact that they couldn't play in their back yard, as we had the last time we visited.

We then headed off to Waterman, Illinois, where for years ES and I attended the annual Halloween and Christmas train rides. A small train runs around the local park, which is decked out in Christmas lights. They have a building where you can warm by the fire, drink hot chocolate, munch popcorn and visit Santa. All of this is offered free of charge (donations accepted inside) and they have always been so friendly and nice (offering blankets for the train ride). I think both boys want to return next October to experience the Halloween train (which also boasts a haunted house).




A tunnel provided shelter from the winds, as well as some indoor train sights:






YS wanted to stand in line again and ride a second time, but we returned to DeKalb, as freezing rain began to come down. We enjoyed our dinner at The Junction Restaurant where the boys were able to watch a small train running along a track above us. They are not practiced or skilled at sit-down restaurant deportment, so I filled their head with the theory that the train stopped when their behavior deteriorated and started up again when they were sitting or eating nicely.


By the time we arrived at Borders, both boys were like whirling dervishes and completely out of control. I tried to talk with Kyle, but the boys were busily wrestling each other on the floor. I then attempted to calm them by shifting them into high backed bar stools near Kyle's daughter, M., who is my ES's age. I was explaining that she knew their older brother.

Soon a boy with long blondish hair came over to stand near M. MS piped up, "Hey Mommy, he looks just like B-----! (ES)" Then, he cracked us all up when he continued, saying, "He smells just like him, too!" Ah, teenage boy odor! Apparently, you can place it anywhere.

What better way to end a night, than an exciting motel experience. Every time I entered the bathroom, they commenced with jumping from bed to bed. When I finally emerged, weary and ready for sleep, they fought over whose bed I would share (ah, if I had been smart, I'd have stuck them in bed together and had a bed to myself, but I was somewhat worried YS might fall off the bed ... instead he kicked me most of the night). "The best day of their lives," indeed.

The next morning we were able to attend our old church. This was such a balm to my soul. The boys thoroughly enjoyed their classes. During the service, we ended up sitting behind a family we used to know from cub scouts and AYSO (soccer). MS managed to sit quietly until he was released for children's church. I was able to greet people without the frazzled look of a woman reigning in wild horses. Moreover, the service was such a blessing. The only part I could have done without?? That would be the time when I was in the foyer saying my farewells and realized that I had lost MS. I found him outside the front door, standing in the front driveway, throwing snowballs at cars. Yikes. Good thing we only get back every once in a while, huh?

Before we left DeKalb, we stopped to visit one more friend, Sandy. She had two dogs as well. I think my MS remembered this because he ran ahead of us to her door. When we left, she said it felt like a tornado had just blown through her house! I replied, "Welcome to my world!"

During our visit at church, I had managed to talk with Kori (who heads up the plans for the annual women's retreat). She encouraged me to come again this February, since it would be the last year that they will hold the retreat at the church (they plan to return to the outings held in retreat settings after this). As much as I enjoyed this opportunity to make memories with my boys, I'm really hoping I can attend their women's retreat in February. Perhaps it will be a beautiful weekend, without so much of the blur. Perhaps, I will return feeling rested, nourished and with memories of therapeutic laughter (like last year).

Childhood Cancer Awareness Month - Kevin Ballantine

The "c" word has been in my vocabulary since I was very young. My paternal grandfather died of cancer when I was three. In fact, cancer claimed many of the lives of his numerous siblings, as well. My maternal grandmother had breast cancer. My father has had cancer.

But, I must admit that my passions against this disease and my support of those battling cancer really increased significantly when it hit close to home for a child that I love. My niece, Amelia, is a leukemia survivor. She is also only five years old! Watching my brother and his family, learn and grow through the trial of leukemia has been inspiring.

Now, I also want to draw attention to other Childhood Cancer fighters.

Shortly before we moved from DeKalb, Illinois, to our isolated farm home outside of Indianapolis, we were looking for a baby sitter to watch our infant MS. We really hadn't left him very often. A friend at school recommended Kevin Ballantine.

I knew of his sister, Pooja. Pooja and Keerti (the Ballantine's two adopted children) used to wait for their ride at the back of the school when I had parking lot duty. Pooja always brought a little smile to my face. Thus, we ended up calling her big brother, Kevin, and having him babysit our little guy. As I ran back in the house to grab something, I knew he was going to do a great job. He had turned on some classical music to calm MS down.

Given the fact that we haven't lived in DeKalb for three years, it is somewhat amazing that I came to know any more about Kevin. But, a few weeks ago, when I began adding DeKalb friends to my Facebook, I noted someone's participation in a group for Kevin Ballantine's fight against leukemia.

He is fairly new to this game - only 190 days in (as his most recent blog post announces). He has AML and has already undergone a stem cell transplant. You can visit him at his blog at www.kballantine.wordpress.com or at his Caring Bridge page (if you become a free member of the CaringBridge community).

Even if you don't take a moment to visit and encourage Kevin, wear some gold this month. Gold is the color chosen to represent childhood cancers. Let these fighters know that they've got some backup support behind them.

Another Good Laugh

Here's a quick plug for another writer friend of mine. Kyle White was our youth pastor back in DeKalb, IL. That is, until we started up the writer's group. Shortly after that, he left his youth pastor position and began to devote more time to his writing. I have always loved his "stuff" (mostly poetry), but was thrilled when I learned of his blog.

He doesn't post to his blog as often as I would like, but I'm guessing that might be a good thing. In fact, I have often wondered about that question of publication following the act of making your writing available to the world at large at no cost to speak of. His writing is definitely worth purchase and I hope to one day buy his essays on Wisconsin (they'll sit right next to my books by Bryson, probably).

But, you can enjoy another good laugh if you visit his blog and read his three recent posts (all of 2009 - sadly). Maybe if he receives a deluge of comments, he'll post more of these entertaining blog entries. Then, again, maybe I'm just deluding myself into thinking I've sent more than two additional readers his way. Ha! Now there's another good laugh!

A Bit of This and That

Tomorrow morning, ES starts school for his 8th grade year. It seems impossible that his summer is already over. The little boys are actually jealous (which ES can't understand). YS keeps begging to go to school and meet his new teacher. I'm guessing CBLI got them in the mood. Alas, they will have to wait two more weeks.

Today, we made another trek to the park. After walking the trail (yes, MS's bike chain broke again, before we completed the walk) the little boys were eager to play at the playground.

This requires a brief side-note: When we were returning from CBLI, we decided we didn't want to travel through Chicago again. I had a book to return to a friend in DeKalb, so I decided to drive home via DeKalb (not exactly a straight line, but quite fun). Immediately, MS asked if we could go to the Hopkins Park pool. He was not quite two when we moved, but he has such fond memories of our times at that pool. We decided to drop ES off at a friend's house and spend three hours at the pool.

On the way to the pool, I called my friend, Renee Olsen, to see if she might want to meet us there. Alas, her kids were already occupied with something, but she invited us for dinner. We had such a wonderful visit with the Olsens that my little boys have been talking about it every day and asking why we can't just go back to their house to play. The Olsens have a marvelous back yard and swing set. One of their daughters taught MS to swing without any pushes from an adult. Now he is constantly begging to go to the park so he can show off this skill.

So, of course, today he ran to the swings, eager to impress. There was a girl on the swings being pushed by her grandfather. She began to talk to MS and their exchange has left me chuckling all day.

She: "My grandpa can give you a push."

He: "No thanks, I know how to get started all by myself and go really high. My friend, Karissa, showed me how. I'm really good at pumping now."

She: "What's your name?"

He answered.

She: "That's a very nice name."

He: "How old are you?"

She: "Six. How old are you?"

He: "I'm four."

She: "Oh good! I like young people."

He went on to offer her a chocolate for the person who could swing the highest. This was something he kept doing during CBLI. He would say, "First person to the door gets a chocolate." Wish he had his own chocolate to be doling out!

Still, I felt like offering him a chocolate later in the afternoon. He was stung by a bee. The first time he was stung (at CBLI) two years ago, he had an allergic reaction and ran a high fever for a few days. I have tried to impress upon him that he might have another allergic reaction if stung again. But, this can't stop a creature lover.

I immediately called the doctor's office to ask what I should look for as a sign to get help. I have been watching his lips and tongue for swelling. Thankfully, he is only complaining of pain at the sting site. No fevers. No swelling. No itching. What a relief. Now that, deserves a chocolate! (Don't tell anyone, but I enjoyed a chocolate, too, on his behalf.)

Now if only chocolate could assuage the twinge of guilt I am feeling. Why do I feel guilty, you ask? Well, last month I wrote a post about an elderly woman who asks about my husband every time I show up at church without him. Even though I wasn't trying to be critical, I feel a horrible sense of guilt because I learned that she passed away.

I'm fairly certain there's chocolate in heaven. I mean, there has to be right? After all, it's heaven! Since she made it there before me, I hope God gives her a chocolate.

Favorite Things Thursday - McVities and Music Tin

I have always felt a very strong affection for Dr. Lyle Dorsett. He gave me a job, transcribing C.S. Lewis' personal letters, during my very first week at Wheaton College. He is a jovial and generous man. His wife, Mary, (whom you might remember as the source of another favorite of mine - my travel Bible), would often bake delicious cookies.

On one occasion, when I had stopped by the Dorsett's house for a brief visit, they didn't offer me Mary's cookies. Instead, with a conniving grin, Lyle brought down a large tin and offered me a "digestive" biscuit. I wasn't quite sure how to take this. He did seem unusually enthusiastic about the gift and I began to wonder if he was trying to trick me into eating one of their dog's biscuits. When I politely declined, he seemed affronted. He indicated that these biscuits were so good that they ration them in their home. I glanced down at the "biscuit" in my hand and it did indeed say "digestive" right across it. Would he really try to coax me into eating some health-nut concoction for improving one's digestion?

After the first bite, I began to understand the pedestal on which Lyle and Mary placed the digestive biscuit. It was a light, sweet taste. Of course, they also taught me that it is best consumed with a fine cup of British tea.

The following year when I went on the Wheaton-in-England program, I purchased many a package of McVitie's Digestives. (Thankfully, when Lyle christened me with a nickname, it was after a candy bar I loved, and not my favorite biscuit.) They always come in a long tube-like wrapper.

(Here's a little tidbit from Wikipedia, which I noticed when I went to double check the spelling on McVitie's:
"The McVitie's Chocolate Digestive was created in 1925. Over 71 million packets of McVitie's Chocolate Digestives are eaten in the United Kingdom each year, giving an average of 52 biscuits per second.[4]"
That's a whole lot of digestive biscuit consumption! Wikipedia also explains the origins of the biscuit's name.)

Once I spent more time in England, and more time in the Mitchell's home, I began to realize that British people often have special tube-shaped tins to store their biscuits in. As much as I wanted to buy one when I was over there, I suppose I was already maxed out in my luggage (which I'm sure were stuffed with six or seven packages of McVitie's Digestives and Hob-Nobs).

But, a few years ago, a dear friend from Littlejohn (the school I worked for back in DeKalb, IL), gave me a lovely tube-shaped tin for a Christmas gift. I doubt she realized how special it seemed. It was the perfect shape for storing McVitie's biscuits and it even had a musical decoration on it. This is another one of those gifts where the gift itself is very special, but the person who gave it (the music teacher, Dr. S. Jones) is equally special.


When I first moved to Indiana, I was a bit worried that I wouldn't be able to find a store which carried my beloved McVitie's (there are American grocers who carry the Carr's brand, but it is not nearly as good as McVitie's). For a while, I was purchasing the biscuits only when we made a trip into Indianapolis. However, at Christmas time, I discovered that our local Marsh store in a neighboring town also carries the McVitie's biscuits.

Now that the warmer weather is here, I will be sure to make time, several mornings a week, for a cup of Twinings Earl Grey tea and a McVitie's biscuit or two.

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Plus, I wanted to encourage others to stop by Janae's Caringbridge site to wish her a hearty congratulations. I'm sure yesterday was one of her favorites, since it was her last chemo treatment for her Wilm's tumor. She's a sweetheart and deserves lots of praise for enduring all those pokes and treatments (you can see her beads of courage on her necklace - each one stands for a treatment or poke or blood draw on her journey).


If you are in a really generous mood, you could also go to her dad's St. Baldrick's participant page and make a small pledge on his head. He will be raising money for the St. Baldrick's event being held in DeKalb, Illinois, tomorrow night!