Greek, Greek, and Greek - Any Questions?

An interesting phenomona has been noticed by one of the Grecian Inquirer staff. News reporters are hopelessly out of date.

Why? We have first names. And we use them, too.

"It's time to stop global warming," Gore says. Miller and Smith agree, "We want the whales to know that we appreciate their significance in our lives."

Or:

Greek is determined, "It doesn't matter who says what -we are going to take over the world." Greek agrees. "That's right - we will, absolutely, no doubt about it. It's actually pretty cool to think about, ya' know what I mean?" he says with a confidential grin. However, Greek doesn't share Greek's and Greek's enthusiasm. "I'm not so sure," she says, "I'm kind of busy with other stuff."

I wonder why news reporters aren't getting it down? That's the way that people spoke and wrote one hundred years ago.

When reading Pride and Prejudice, we pause and ponder why any parent would name their child 'Wickham.' "Whatever could they have been thinking?" we muse. "No wonder he turned out like he did without a delightful name like Darcy to go by."

So in this the 21st century, filled with brand-spanking-new technology, let us reject the archaic form of refering to one another. We shall insist on the use of first names in news reports!

Notes from a Camper

Yesterday I watched a little boy and a little girl, perhaps nine or so, on scooters. It took me a minute to realize that they weren't related. 

They rode up the hill until each was out of breath - the exact same moment - and then pushed their scooters to the summit.

From the top, the ride was long and steep. The boy deferred and watched eagerly as the girl flew down at such a speed that I jumped up from the picnic table where I was dicing carrots.

She screamed, half in thrill and half terror.

"It's too fast!"

The boy's voice, certain of her capability, was unwavering.

"Just stop!"

The road turned. I couldn't bear to look and waited for the sound of impact. She was hurtling towards a tree.

Silence, then a nervous giggle. Somehow she had diverted her course to the grass and rolled off easily. The boy was proud.

Thirty seconds later, he too had bolted past and they were on the way up as if nothing had happened. He asked her if she liked it here and wanted to stay. She said she didn't like being sweaty, and, laughing, rattled off a whole list of things she missed from home. They were still pushing scooters, but he was watching her with cocked head and contented half-smile. 

Somehow our eyes met, and I read the satisfaction on his face. If he were ten years older I would have gotten the "I got her" wink, but he was too innocent. I have hardly seen two people more at ease with each other in all my life.

This morning I saw him pushing his bicycle up the hill. He was alone, huffing and puffing with shoulders bent and eyes on the pavement, like any ordinary boy. I wondered where the girl was.

 - a camper

Thoughts from the Sideline

fall 2007

It's the first game of the season, the first game my three little brothers have ever played. Never in my life have I watched a football game, but sisterly affection mandates attendance at this one.

Now if only I understood football!

I get baseball. No sweat (unless you happen to be playing). 3 strikes and you’re out. 4 balls and you walk. 3 bases to home. Peanuts and popcorn and Take Me Out to the Ballgame. Cardinal red and Albert Pujols and Busch Stadium. Simple.

But football baffles me. Why do these little boys need faux muscles? Whose idea was that? Why is the ball shaped so funny, and why is it swathed in pigskin? Why do young American males find the process of ramming others so lucrative?

I still remember my first encounter with football. We were living in Europe at the time, and Dad decided to turn on the American football game while Mom finished the preparations for Thanksgiving dinner. I was three years old.

I entered the den and found Dad relaxing in his big blue chair as a huge pile of perspiring men rolled over each other on the grass. I was decidedly disturbed. The man at the bottom of the heap was the recipient of my deepest consolations, and I wondered why his wife let him do that.

*****

Here, the setting looks a lot like “Facing the Giants.” Only the boys are younger and I’m relatively certain that nothing too miraculous will occur tonight.

Yet somehow I can’t manage to keep my eyes on the game for five seconds straight. It’s merely one endless swarm of little boys, running in all directions.

But there are so many interesting things happening around me! On my left, a young father is dumping formula powder into a baby bottle held by his wife (wow, how does their poor child manage to drink the stuff?). The woman on my right has a beautiful wedding ring. The girl beside me is trying way too hard to be cool. Behind me, a mother is whining, “Shannon, who do love more? Daddy or me?” And there are people here with names like BJ and CJ and Buddy…

Suddenly everyone is screaming and yelling. I look up just in time to see my little brother sprint easily across a white line, football in hand. The other players follow at a distance.

Behind me, Dad rejoices. “He scored his first touchdown!”

Hmm. I’m guessing that’s a good thing.

I turn my attention back to the crowd. A few feet away, several parents are trying to remember what the team’s name is. The lady with the ring is getting a shoulder massage from her husband. Behind me, a group of school-aged boys are tossing dust in the air. I watch a toddler pour coffee over the front of her blouse; she cocks her head, looks at me, and snickers with joy as it dribbles toward her stomach. I giggle with delight at the antics of a darling four year old boy.

Abigail nudges me.

“Isn’t he cute?!”

He pulls a worm out of the grass and dangles it in front of his nose. It wiggles itself into curls, and he throws back his head and laughs heartily.

What amazing dimples!

Abigail and I agree that we want to go over and hug him. I bite the end of my pen and wish I could take him home.

Suddenly there is another yell, and I glance up quickly. One of my brothers has fallen. From nowhere, bodies begin to accumulate on top of him. I pull in my breath and gasp.

“HEY! THAT’S MY BROTHER!!”

How dare they?

Oh, good. They’re finally getting off.

The boys line up in two rows and face each other. Wow, that looks intimidating. A man shouts and each side charges like crazed buffalo. Bodies clash.

That must be an odd feeling.

“GO SARAH!” the coach hollers. I stiffen. There’s a little girl out there with all those boy monsters? Poor thing.

A woman nearby asks me what my brother’s jersey number is. Ouch. I should probably know that.

Somebody says something about ‘half-time.’ That’s an interesting concept. My valiant little brother runs over to say hello. I watch him lick his lips and swipe the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. Wow, that’s totally endearing.

One of the boys on the team is having trouble getting his helmet off. His head looks a little too large to fit through. Yikes!

A young father hands his son a Gatorade. The child’s mother, confined to a wheelchair, gives her boy a kiss and sends him back to war. Awww. That’s charm, I tell you.

Looks like ‘half-time’ is over. The little warriors face each other and make ominous grunting noises. My brothers’ team slaps their legs in perfect harmony. Intimidation at its finest.

Distracted, I turn my attention back to the crowd. A toothless old man and a toddler are laughing together. Wow. Where’s my camera when I need it?

Finally another shout. The game seems to be over. My brother high-fives his teammates and gallantly makes his way back to us. What a perfect little man. I love that messy hair, and the way he itches the back of his head is simply marvelous.

And oh, the sheepish grin! Heartwarming.

Half an hour later, we all pile into the suburban for the long drive home. I grab a book and settle back to relax.

A sudden curiousity grips me. I straighten up and twist around to better view the three sweaty boys in the back row.

“Skip, who won that game?”

I Am a Cowboy Hat

by Stephen

I was made at a company in Fort Worth, Texas. I sat there for 2 weeks. Then finally I was shipped to ________ with 50 other red hats, 50 other white hats, and 49 black hats. I was the 50th black hat. All together there was 150 hats! Then I got put on the shelf at Walmart. I only sat there for 12 hours! Lots of boys tried me on but got different hats. Finally Stephen came and tried me on. He liked me, so he bought me. Now I live happily ever after on Stephen's head.

THE END.

Waterproofing Water

One day, as we eat our lunch, David pipes up with a thoroughly and uniquely absorbing question.

"Daddy, is water waterproof?"

As the rest of us ponder the depth of the subject, Dad suspiciously glances over at this young philosopher. "What kind of question is that?" he laughs.

Now David, ever seeking answers to his probing questions points out that that isn't any sort of an answer and reiterates his question.

"Well, I guess I'd say 'No'," Dad muses, "because if you pour water on water it will be wet."

Satisfied, David begins somewhere else. "If you pour water into a lake, does that water sit on the top of the lake or sink down to the bottom?"

"You sure ask interesting questions David!" Dad chuckles.

Andrew now decides to enlighten us all with his knowledge.

"Easy - the second law of thermodynamics."

The rest of us smile and nod our heads, perfectly clueless as to what that law states, but content to trust big brother and act knowingly as if we do - all the while guessing at whether Andrew knows anymore than the rest of us.

"That doesn't answer my question!" David complains pointedly.

"It diffuses. But not if it's ice, of course."

"Then what does it do if it's ice?"

"It sinks."

"But why?"

"Because of density."

David ponders this answer for awhile, then turns from big brother's highly scientific answers to something a bit more, shall we say, unique.

"Daddy, if you put water in a dryer, will the water become dry?"

"No, it won't." Dad answers, as we all laugh at the idea. Dry water... now that's something else. We have dry ice - what's to stop someone from inventing dry water?

"Well then the dryer isn't doing it's job - it'd be broken!"

"No David, a dryer is supposed to dry clothes, not water." explains Dad.

"Oh. Can it dry hair?" David tries.

"What?"

"Can a dryer dry hair?"

"Well, I'm not exactly sure what you mean David, I suppose so." Dad answers after some thought on the matter.

"What if the hair is on a animal - like a cat or dog and you put the cat in the dryer with wet hair - will the dryer dry the cat's hair?"

"David, you are so funny!" we all laugh at his candid-ness.

"But would it?"

"Well, I'll tell you what would happen - you'd end up with a dead cat!" and we all laugh once again as Dad imparts this piece of wisdom to the baby of the family.

David then decides to ask the infamous 'killer question'.

"How do you know Daddy?"

"Well David," Dad states with a smile, "believe it or not, there are some people who think like you do and they've tried that."

Whoa! We look at each other with looks of mixed impressiveness and horror on our faces. No kidding. Dads sure are cool!

"In fact," Dad goes on "some people have even tried putting their animals, like kittens or hampsters, in the microwave." Dad looks around the table at our amazed faces.

"And what happened?" Stephen ventures, after a breathless pause.

"Well they exploded."

We all burst into fits laughter, as Andrew comments on the effectiveness of the idea.

Mom, on the other hand, is horrified. "Andrew! That's animal abuse!"

"No mom, it's just animal population control...." Andrew replies, "...so NUKE THE KITTIES!"

Advice on Finding a Wife

Mother to her five-year-old son: "When you are looking for a wife, get one who is big enough to hold your kids down and spank them when they are bad, little enough for you to carry across the threshold when you marry her, and mean enough to stand up to your mama."

Overheard at the Capitol, Episode 2

“The less the Senate gets done, the better for the taxpayers.”

“The Senator from Cass has hurt my feelings.”

“Anything to stop Hillary – except assassination. But if somebody else wants to do it…”

# 1: “What are you doing?”
# 2: “I’m preparing to fight evil!”
#1: *laughs* “I can’t think of a better man to do it. You’ve got to know evil to fight it, right?”
# 2: “Right. I like to say that when you stare into the abyss, it stares back. I’ve become corrupt.”

“They are bright, scholarly, intelligent, educated fascists.”

“You seem calmer today.”
“No, I’m just on stronger medications.”

“These are our enemies saying this about us.”
“Then it must be true!”

“I’m a terrible liar.”

“What do they teach in political science? How do they stretch it out over four years? I could teach that in a week!”

“He’s so excited that the train is moving, he doesn’t care if he’s in the caboose.”

“We have the best government money can buy.”

“He knows so much about so many things that he thinks he knows about everything.”

“Why would you want to support me? I don’t deserve your help.”

“I don’t care.”

“If they saw us in the street, I really think they would run us over.”
“So what should we do?”
“Stay away from the street.”

“That spineless wimp of a man! Where’s his backbone?”
“I think it’s in ______’s pocket.”

"Ohh, that was so eloquent! I wish the media was here so you could have said that on the radio.”
“Well, call ‘em up! I can say it again.”

“You know everyone is scared of you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I say something that wasn’t already known?”

“He...has teddy bear eyes - you know, the kind you glue in. When you look at him, it’s like looking into a shark’s eyes. They’re dead underneath.”

“It’s frustrating how we work and work on an issue, and then you come and it all falls apart.”

“I used to be against ______, but then the opposition hired a cute girl to lobby for them.”

“Oh, ok. Then I won’t worry about it anymore. Now, what else do I have to worry about?”

“The Senator from the 14^th is shooting daggers at me. Am I walking into a cow pie here?”

“I...believe that he is principled and works incredibly hard on all the issues I disagree with.”

“We have to tell them we have a plan. Even if we don’t.”

“If you write it that way, people will start thinking it and feeling it, and next thing you know it will be true.”

“If we have some way to check the task off, alot of women will do it just so they can check it off.”

“After we attended that meeting in Chicago, I was so glad I was from Missouri.”

“His smile is too big anyway.”

“But Senator ______ is an airhead! You mean he actually told you that?”

“Nobody gets elected unless they have a secret.”

“They keep beating me over the head with a pillow. It’s usually a soft one.”

“I’m lyin’ to you.”

My Crickaphobia

Sometimes life feels like a pink electric eel with a top hat flopping around in an underwater fish tank eating pumpkin pie. It's during times like that when you feel both depressed and exuberant at the same time. Like when you think of me having the personality of a squid that looks like a zebra. Another time when you feel both happy and depressed at the same time is when you have an over-rated fear of geeky-looking elephants. I think it's what a sophisticated, educated, civilized person would call goolarectyphobia.

You see, I am one of those strange people who have over-rated fears. Not necessarily of geeky-looking elephants, but of green penguins who do acrobatics and ballet on a stage in Brunei, also called gioreetopheeptiroaniaphobia.

I also have an over-rated fear of monsters - jumping monsters. Ugly, scratchy, disgusting, jumping, monsters! I hate them passionately. Lots of people have a phobia of monsters. But these scary monsters live in our cellar.

Yes, that's what I said - we have monsters in our cellar.

I know you don't believe me.

It hurts.

I'm a VICTIM!!!!!!

Anyway, yes. We have monsters (otherwise known as crickets) in our cellar. BIG crickets! And I am afraid of them. They JUMP!

Whenever I need rice, or honey, or pasta, or wheat, I ask David to get it for me because as long as those crickets are down there I refuse to go into the cellar.

"Abigail, can you go get me some wheat for me?"

"Sure, Mom."

I grab the Tupperware container and head down the stairs. Suddenly, my crickaphobia comes over me and I dash back upstairs. "Mom, um, I'm really sorry but I can't get the wheat for you."

"Whyever not?”

“Because there are crickets down there; I’m afraid of crickets!”

“Come on, Abigail; it can’t be that bad. Just try it, this once, for me.”

“Oh, whatever, I’ll try it.” Very unsure about the future, I hesitantly travel down the stairs once more, take a deep breath...and open the door.

I glance around, the walls seem clear….oh, there are two in that corner…nope, there’s one on the ceiling …. and one in the pipe….

I sigh. I’ve got to do this! “For mom and for country!” I yell, as I brandish my Tupperware container and boldly step into the room.

But just before my feet hit the cold gravel I jump back.

That was close!

On the floor is a new kind of monster – a creepy snake-like thing.

This is too much. “Sorry, Mom,” I say, once safely up the stairs. “No go. There was a snake down there!”

“Come on! Don’t be such a wimp. That’s my pet lizard – he’s cute!” she gushes fondly.

“Mom? You have a pet snake!?!”

“It’s a lizard, Abigail! Here, watch me!” and with this, Mom goes to face the monsters.

Safe upstairs, I shake my head in incredulity. This is a new side of my mother; a pet lizard!?

Five minutes later, I am stirring the sauce on the stove and experiencing great remorse on behalf of my mother’s distressing situation (which she unknowingly placed herself in, despite my wise suggestions to the contrary).

Suddenly, I hear a blood-chilling scream from the cellar. Then a door slams shut and I hear feet rushing expeditiously up the stairs from the cellar. Mom runs madly into the kitchen. I turn to look at her with wide eyes.

“Mom?”

Her hair is disheveled, some grain has spilled on the floor in her mad rush, and her eyes look ghostly in their extreme terror.

“Mom?” I repeat, “what happened down there? You okay?”

Dazedly she sets the grain on the counter, “Abigail, it was horrible down there. But I fought them off!” Her voice is quaky and hoarse; a hint of a tear glistens in her eyes.

“Mom?”

“Oh, Abigail!” she begins to shriek crazily, “First there was that…that...SNAKE! And it attacked me!” Mom frantically demonstrates her wrestling match with the snake. “And then they jumped on me! – MONSTERS!!! CRICKETS!!!

“HA YA! WHOOSH! AHHHHH! KAPOOSH! HA!”

I stare at my screaming mother, who is dancing wildly around the kitchen and attempting to karate the air. “HA YA!” She yells once more and attempts a kung-foo move. She violently chops the air with her flattened hands, and desperately uses martial arts as her last defense.

“Abigail, they were all around me! I couldn’t get them off! HELP!!!!”

“Mom?” I stare unbelievably at her – where did she learn martial arts?

“Didn’t you hear me down there?” They, they, they were attacking me! But I fought them off – and here I stand. Safe at last!” I watch as mom ends her dramatic soliloquy in an equally dramatic and sweeping bow.

I guess she expects me to clap?

But no. I raise my eyebrows as she bursts into torrents of hysterical laughter.

"Ha! I got you!”

“Mom?”

Beans 'n Rice

Mom: "Beans and rice are poor people's food."
Andrew: "No, nowadays they can afford a little cheese."

Jacob: "If you don't wear shoes, your feet will grow bigger."

Sarah: "Some people overestimate their own significance."

Jacob: "Can I make the red stuff tonight? I'm a professional red-stuff-maker."

Abigail: "Maybe we shouldn't live, because we might die."

Jacob: "Look at what a big dork I am!"

Andrew: "We can't be Greeks. All the Greeks died off and became extinct thousands of years ago.'
Dad: "Haven't you ever heard of Greece?"
Andrew: "That's in Rome."

Bible teacher, discussing the statue in Nebuchadnezzar's vision: "Ten toes! It's simply amazing!"
David: "I have ten toes. Is that amazing?"

Sarah, singing: "…it's not that I'm sentimental..."
Andrew: "Except you are."

Sarah: "I'm afraid of being rude."

Abigail: "They might have…well, cogwheels turning in their minds."
Sarah: "Cogwheels are good."
Abigail: "But I mean bad cogwheels."

Abigail: "Is he married?
Sarah: "Yes, of course. Didn't you see that little girl crawling around?"
Abigail: "He's married to a little girl?!"
Sarah: "No! That was his daughter."

Andrew, listening to the Fiddler soundtrack: "If I lived in Anatevka, I would boycott the matchmaker."

Abigail: "Guys who aren't funny are boring."

Dad to Sarah: "What were you doing out in the snow so late?
Sarah: "It was a celebration of randomness!"
Dad: "What does that mean?"
Abigail: "It means she was acting juvenile."

Stephen to Sarah: "This is my trustful coat. It has never beguiled me."

Sarah: "Why do men always gain weight after they get married?"
Andrew: "Because they don't have to get a girl anymore."

David: "Sarah is so good at manners that she's better than manners and she makes us do things that are higher than manners."

Andrew to Sarah: "Don't wax loquacious."

Sarah: "Dominant women always marry quiet men."

David: "I wish I could always stay this age. When you grow up, the things that are fun get boreder and boreder and you have to do business and things like that."

Sarah: "I don't know what the world is coming to, but I don't like it."

Stephen: "Daddy, do you want to play darts with me tonight?"
Dad: "Not really."
Stephen: "Don't worry. I'll try not to beat you this time."

Of Goggles and Veggies

Sources deep inside the Greek dynasty have recently relayed information regarding a groundbreaking concept pioneered by the young Stephen. Reportedly, the young man in question has discovered that the act of cutting steamed potatoes becomes significantly easier when the cutter is equipped with high-powered swimming goggles.

The idea apparently originated after an encounter with an unruly set of onions left the aforementioned gentleman in tears, despite his valiant attempts at restraint. Necessity being the mother of invention, his penetrating mind soon found a solution. The best, however, was yet to be. Further experiments revealed that the success of swimming goggles extended far beyond the emotional world of onions, and the rest was history. Family members testify that Stephen utilizes swimming goggles during the entire duration of his daily kitchen duty.

The previously unreleased photo below demonstrates the only known food item that is not particularly improved by the use of swimming goggles. Readers are asked to note Stephen's outstretched tongue, the distinguishing characteristic of a Greek in deep concentration.

Paradise Lost

As a new rebelutionary, I had been trying to put the principle Do Hard Things into daily practice. Soon, however, I got a taste of a REALLY HARD thing; no, not merely a taste: rather my whole head was violently and forcibly plunged in. Not quite what I was expecting. Here's the story, drenched with humorous sarcasm and bitterness:

One very late Saturday morning, I was reclining on my bed waiting till somebody got the bright idea of making breakfast, which usually happens on Sabbath mornings. I had picked up Louisa May Alcott's LITTLE WOMEN and was reading quite comfortably. My happiness on finding the word 'ubiquotous' in my readings was violently cut short by the ominous sound of Sarah's footsteps ascending the staircase.

Had I known what was at stake at this moment, and had I known what was best for my ultimate health and happiness, I would immediately have sprung from under the covers and hurled myself upon the hard carpet of my bedroom floor. Then I would have squeezed myself into the six inch black hole between my bed and the aformentioned floor, in which all kinds of mystical creatures and horrible monsters dwell. I should have hidden there till my ominous morning messenger had departed, and then rolled out from my hiding place covered in cobwebs, spiders, mystical creatures, and dust balls, to happily continue my musings. Or, if my whole self repulsed at the thought of going in to that deep dark dungeon of mine, I ought to at least have pulled frantically for the covers, choked, screamed, yelled, and attempted all kinds of frightening utterances - anything to not let Sarah have her way. Or, if nothing else, I should have pulled the covers over my head and pretended to be fast asleep.

At 10:45 in the morning? Yeah right.

But, as I was foolish enough to believe that Sarah was the bringer of glad tidings, I refrained from doing the above mentioned things.

Big mistake.

In barged Sarah, dressed for physical exertion. "Abigail, I'm going on a bike ride, I'm leaving in two minutes, and you're coming with me!"

"Oh. Well, it's so nice of you to include me, Sarah. I appreciate that very much. You really have no idea what that means to me, but I'm afraid I must decline ...."

"No. You're coming with me."

BANG!

My diplomatic words were cut short by the sound of my door slamming, causing the glass to rattle in the window. I crawled out of bed, stared in utter disaster at my dishevelled apearence in the mirror, and listened in despair to the diabolical sound of Sarah's sneakers squeaking down the stairs.

Now, for those of my readers who are deprived of the blessing of an older sister, I pause to describe a certain simple concept that younger sisters face on a day-by-day basis.

Big Sister: "Do all my chores for me."
Little Sister: Has no choice but to do it.

Big Sister: "Clean my side of the room too."
Little Sister: Has no choice but to do it.

Big Sister: "Pay my college tuition for me."
Little Sister: Has no choice but to do it.

I'm sure you get the picture. Big sisters don't speak in multiple choice commands.

Anyhow, back to the story. I changed quickly, slipping on a light jacket. Then I rushed downstairs in a futile attempt to persuade Sarah to seek a second opinion (that opinion being my own, naturally) on this rash comand of hers. But, being the hard-hearted, stiff-necked, loveable big sister that she is, Sarah stood her ground and refused to be swayed in any way.

I pulled out my old bike, the one that fitted my 7 year old brother perfectly, (why, oh, why didn't I get a newer one?) and pulled out after Sarah. Just when we were passing out of sight of the warm house, I suddenly came to grips with the desperate situation with which I was faced. It was nearly 11:00 AM and I hadn't had any food or drink since the night before. My bike was too small, my shoes were too small, and here I was, pedaling after Sarah. I was about to go on a long bike ride through dense woods, down steep cliffs, through creeks and sandbars, splashing through mud puddles, up big hills, and past who-knew-whats lurking from the forest. This wasn't any nice little bike ride on flat pavement. Dear readers, this was riding through ten miles of Ozark backroads that no car can go through, or has been through for a couple of years at least.

So, as I was saying, suddenly I came to grips with the horrendous scene I was faced with.
I paniced. Who wouldn't?!

"Sarah! Wait up!"

"Not a chance! Don't be such a slowpoke!"

"Sarah, why are we going on this bike ride? This is bizarre!"

"Well, I had this dream. About five miles down this trail, there is supposed to be a beautiful tropical paradise with big orange flowers, soft grass, monkeys, and waterfalls. I'm going to see if I can find it!"

"WHAT!?!? Sarah! Are you kidding?! That's, that's, that's..... pathetic! INSANE! Come on! Wake up to reality, for crying out loud!"

"Don't worry sis. It'll be there."

I felt like screaming. Actually, I felt like turning around, but I didn't dare.

I pedalled after Sarah, remonstrating with myself for allowing her to bring me along on this foolish goose chase. But I kept on. I couldn't turn back now, could I? I skidded down the hills - cliffs I should say - and tried to keep from flipping over head first down the ridge.

I grumbled, complained, and tried to think of something that would drive Sarah to be sensible. Big sisters sure are frustrating sometimes. Or is that an understatement?

Finally I resolved to be optimistic in spite of my trials. I imagined riding back to the house while crowds cheered wildly, impressed with my courage and determination. I smiled. This was encouraging! I began humming "Hail the Conquring Hero Comes" to the tune of "Deck the Halls".

Hail the conquring hero comes
Falalalala, lalalala
Hail the conquring hero comes
Falalalala, lalalala

Suddenly something popped....in my head, and my imagination bubble was blown to bits. That'll never happen. It's just a long dreary hard 10 mile long bike ride. If circumstances are pessimistic, don't pretend they are delightful, Abigail.

I felt like screaming once again. This couldn't be happening. Two miles later I spoke up once more. "Sarah, um... I'll get wet when I cross the river."

"No, you won't. It's easy! Go like this." She demonstrated.

"But my bike is alot smaller than yours."

She laughed bad-naturedly. "Hurry up!"

I sighed and went - and ended up getting halfway across when my bike stopped. I pushed my bike the rest of the way across the creek, soaking my shoes.

My now wet shoes sunk into the sand on the other side and became coated with sand - as did my bike tires. My bike being hard to steer, I began to believe that it would fall apart any second.

I imagined myself staring at small pieces of rubber, bolts, steel pipes, iron coated wires, copper thingies, and whatever it is that bikes are made out of. I imagined calling out to Sarah that my bike was broken, but she wouldn't hear me because of her earphones. She would just disappear around the corner in that brand-new bike of hers that she guards so jealously. Being miles from home, with the broken bits and pieces of what used to be a bike surrounding me, I would sink down in the sand. Then I would sit down and cry because my horrible sister had dragged me out of my comfort zone and pitylessly left me here, starving and destitute. I ...

"Abigail, hurry up!"

I looked up, glanced at my bike, and realized that I was having a day-mare. Sweet relief!
"Sarah! Don't leave me behind! Please! Help!" I frantically hurried to catch up, begging her to turn around.

She didn't listen. Her eyes were glazed over. She was paying more attention to her cassette tape than me.

Sarah face was all smiles. We were rounding the bend where her tropical paradise was supposed to be. She eagerly peered through the trees, expecting any moment to burst in on that lovely land. I shook my head remorsefully. Too bad it wouldn't come true. A tropical paradise sounded incredibly inviting at that moment. We rounded the bend. It wasn't there.

Shocking, I know. Who would have expected that? Her paradise was lost. But then, it had never existed in the first place.

Sarah stared around bewilderedly, her dreams shattered to shards all around her; but stubbornly she refused to accept it. "Maybe we should go a little bit farther. It's gotta be here somewhere!"

"Sarah, it's not here. I could have told you that before we started on this pathetic goose chase! And as for looking for it more, NO WAY! I am doing no such idiotic thing!"

Disappointed and hungry, we turned around and started the long journey home. Eager to return, I mustered up my last iota of remaining strength and passed Sarah. I started pedaling fast, attempting to dodge through the mud puddles that lay in my path.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!"

I slammed on the brakes, mud splattering all over me. Sarah, riding right behind me, slammed on her brakes. But not fast enough. She skidded into me, sending me and my bike into an uncomfortable tangle right smack in the middle of the biggest mud puddle in the whole road.

"You ok?" she asked non-chalantly.

"I'm 10 miles from home, starving, tired, lying in a mud puddle .... yeah Sarah, I'm doing incredible!" I thought sarcastically, but instead I rubbed my neck and looked around for the culprit. There! I saw a big thorn branch swinging out over the road. I groaned, and kept on rubbing my neck in an attempt to lessen the searing pain. Slowly, I crawled out of the mud.

"Well, it did make a pretty cool cracking noise," I mumbled dryly in an poor attempt to be optimistic.

Sarah chuckled bad-naturedly and rode carefully on the other side of the trail, reminding me of the pharisee. Then she started back down the trail while I disentangled myself from the bike, still rubbing my neck. "Thanks for the help." I muttered.

Poor mud-caked little me.

Riding on, I felt like a fruit that had just been dipped in a big fondue pot full of rich brown chocolate.

Chocolate! YUM!

But as usual, there were a couple problems with my theory.

#1.) Mud is not a good substitute for chocolate.
#2.) Was I going to be eaten?

OH! So hungry!

I alternated between rubbing the stinging pain in my neck where the thorns had ripped, rubbing my sore back, rubbing my red ears which were stinging from the cold, and steering my bike. Exhausted, I kept on pushing my bike down the old trail, tired and weary.

Sarah, apparently trying to prove herself to be a nice big sister, let me borrow her tape recorder and headphones to warm my numb ears. She was listening to the Psalms. I pressed PLAY.

"I said "You are gods, And all of you are sons of the Most High. Nevertheless you will die like men, and fall like any one of the princes.""

"Um, Sarah, you can take it back now."

Not feeling particularly encouraged, I pedaled on.

After a long and tiring ride back across the creek and up several steep cliffs, we finally reached sight of the house. Never had that sight been more welcome to me, but I was too exhausted for romantic exclamations and pasionate cries.

I skidded to a stop in front of the house, dragged myself up the porch stairs and fell onto the couch, weary and forlorn.

There was my wonderful family, with their hands at their hips and their faces anything but pleasant. A chorus of "WHY are you late for breakfast young lady?!?! ..."IT'S NOON!"... We waited for you for TWO HOURS so we could have breakfast!!!" ... "WHERE did you all go?!?!?!" ... "Don't you EVER do anything like this again!" ... (etc, etc, etc.) met my ears.

I was too exhausted to even hear them and mumbled an 'Oh, sorry.' I crawled weakly back into bed completely exhausted and barely conscious, trying not to faint before reaching safety. I barely heard Sarah cheerfully exclaim downstairs "Oh, but we had a wonderful bike ride!"

Winter Dawn (a narrative)

A few nights ago, I was disturbed about a certain matter and stayed up late, thinking. When my thoughts grew too full to organize mentally, I began to journal. But when I began to nod off not long before 2 AM, I decided to sleep there on the couch, knowing that I would certainly not be able to get up at a decent hour if I slept in my own bed.

Hours before, I had invited Stephen and David to accompany me on my 6 o’clock walk. Now, remembering the promise dimly, I hoped vaguely that they would oversleep.

I was disappointed. It seemed only a few minutes later that I became sensible of a human presence in the kitchen. The moon’s glow still cast shadows among the trees outside: I informed myself curtly that the morning was still a long way off and dug my face deeper into the couch cushion.

Perhaps thirty seconds later, a small hand was placed on the armrest. David’s voice, infinitely softer than I would ever have expected even at this time of day, whispered, “Sarah, is that you?”

I wondered why he hadn’t turned the light on, and how he knew he would find me here.

“Yes, Skip. What’s the matter?”

“It’s 5:55, and Stephen and I are up.”

The aforementioned brother padded down the stairs, switched on the faraway fluorescent light (such consideration!), and joined David. “What is it?”

“It’s Sarah.”

“Oh. Aren’t you getting up, Sarah?”

Disappointing them was unthinkable. Stephen whisked my blanket off, and I surprised myself by getting up pleasantly. After a drink and whispered instructions, I gathered my things and slipped downstairs.

25 minutes later, we were ready. We let ourselves out into the crisp pre-dawn darkness. The moon had slipped behind a cloud, and the world waited silent and unassuming.

Our conversation was muffled as we started down the driveway. The topic was something along the lines of Narnia and Peter’s wolf-killing technique and was demonstrated by the sticks the boys carried. I switched on my Bible tape.

By the time we reached the bottom of the hill, it was considerably easier to see the path. I stopped the boys and informed them of the day-old tradition Jacob and I had established: a race to the creek. Stephen and David concurred enthusiastically.

It was difficult to see the trail while moving at such a fast pace, and the brisk wind I created seemed to numb my cheeks and push them into my face. I managed to win easily, however.

There’s an unspoken hierarchy in the interactions of little boys: the need for a ‘leader’, even a verbally undefined one, is felt acutely. When we reached the power lines, Stephen and David drew back. I led the climb, dodging between stubby undergrowths and among trees and stumps in the semi-darkness.

By the time we were half-way up, the boys were oriented and Stephen had slipped into the leadership position. We crossed over onto the ridge and continued our eastward ascent, this time by a more meadowy route.

I stopped the boys for a moment in the name of another day-old tradition: a glance behind us at a scene that lent itself wholeheartedly to the imagination. The moon, pasty and luminescent, hung quietly in a frozen gray-blue sky. It was just beginning its morning descent: in this case, preparing to sink into an icy gray stack of forgotten timber. Sheathed with still-murky conifers and momentarily stagnant in the womb of dawn, the scene was charged with a healing kind of loneliness. There was no better therapy anywhere in the world.

The boys, failing to appreciate the significance of the scene, trotted off. I switched off my tape and waited for a few more moments to capture what I had casually labeled ‘a Kodak moment’. It seemed more like a rite of passage: the quiet transition from good thing to a better one.

In the east, the lowest sliver of the horizon had been joined by a tenacious streak of cheese-colored dawn. I ran toward it in pursuit of the boys and overtook them chumming good-naturedly on a topic of common interest.

Reaching an old logging path, we headed briskly toward the open pasture. It came upon us more than we came upon it, really: an icy grassland of static beauty, waiting calmly for the future. Not really belonging, we chatted our way into it, icons of a swifter world.

The field narrowed. I mounted a frozen heap of manure and chuckled to myself in the stillness, while the boys meandered to and fro in search of a remembered assortment of skeletal deer remains left over from last year’s hunting season.

I gave them some tips, then positioned myself in the middle of the path to concentrate on my tape. The ground was chilly. I tucked my chin into my jacket and lost myself in the soothing words of a favorite Psalm.

A sudden impulse jerked my attention to the horizon. There, in stunning splendor, stood the most magnificent sunrise I had ever seen. The lower sky was aflame in vivid pink and blonde bands, jagged stripes of lavish intensity. It was magnificent. The day had arrived, a silent testimony to the newness of grace.

I called out to the boys, and they paused in their search to admire the grandness of it all with me. Then their hunt for the stiff frames of mortality resumed in earnest.

It seemed only a second later that the splendor had evaporated in lieu of a flaming arc of sun. Stephen and David joined me on the road and set to work threading a deer skull and rib cage through a length of rope.

Stephen paused for a moment and looked me over as though seeing me for the first time. “Gosh, Sarah, you look good.” He stopped to return my shocked smile with a sheepish grin of his own. “Those colors look really nice on you, and the scenery behind you is really pretty.”

I was charmed. He does surprise me sometimes.

I stood and brushed myself off, though there was nothing but frost below. When the boys had finally arranged the burden to their satisfaction, we continued on toward home.

The cold grassland had given way to the equal serenity of a wooded slope. We continued in a brief upward climb.

Just before the path widened and meandered downhill, the boys stopped to adjust their load and discuss the wisdom of bringing the bones to the house ‘where Mommy can see them’. The original plan had been to adorn their room with the trophies, but somehow that didn’t seem quite safe anymore.

Noticing the time on my cell phone and realizing that breakfast needed to be started immediately, I suggested that we pray together and part ways for the time being. The boys agreed.

I began. Stephen followed by thanking our Father for the ‘wonder of creation’. Where did the child get his vocabulary?

David requested that God ‘please keep our bones safe.’

After a few words of instruction, I left them to discuss the propriety of the various options available for their beloved bones and took off running down the lane. The house waited below me, smoke drifting lazily over a frosty roof. Framed from my field of vision by the melting brown of old leaves, it looked about as welcoming as the hearty pancake breakfast we all sat down to an hour later.

House of Lies

Stephen, pumping his fist in the air: "I stand before a crumbling house of lies!"

Sarah: "Did he ever marry his first wife?"

Abigail: "Sarah, can I borrow ____ [a Christian music artist]?"
Sarah: "He's...not mine to give."
Abigail: "Oh! I mean, can I borrow his CD?"

Jacob: "I don't want to go to that funeral. I don't like funerals."
Dad: "Well, if you had died, wouldn't it bother you if no one came to your funeral?"
Jacob: "No."
Dad: "Oh. I guess it couldn't really bother you then, could it? But I know how you feel. I don't typically enjoy funerals either. I don't think they were meant to be enjoyed."
Jacob: "You don't typically enjoy funerals? When was the time that you did enjoy one?"
Dad: “Well…..”

Andrew to Sarah: "You know what's bad about fasting on Tuesday? That's the day that Subway's has half-price footlongs."

Jacob: "Andrew and I are really good enemies."

David: "I have a bumpy voice."

Jacob, looking at a picture of a woman in a wedding gown: "She sure would look bad if her head was shaved!"

David: "May the Lord pretend and defect you!” (as opposed to “May the Lord protect and defend you.”)

Jacob: "When I die, bury me in the compost pile. But leave my head sticking out."
Stephen: "Oh, do that for me, too! Except I want my feet sticking out."

Andrew to Mom: "Can you talk faster? Because when you have finished talking, I've forgotten my response."

Sarah to Abigail: "Would you mind if I sent this email in your name?"
Abigail: "It's not like I have any choice in the matter."

David, while coloring: "This is the most colorful rat in the world!"

Stephen: "Mommy, I think Abigail has a fever."
Mom: "Why?"
Stephen: "Because I heard that people with fevers don't communicate very well."
David (goes over and puts his hand on Abigail's forehead): "Yep, Abigail, you're a hothead!"

Mom, while looking at a picture of Bigfoot: "Aww, he just looks like he needs a friend!"

Random person to Stephen: "Is Sarah your mom?"
Stephen: "No, she would have had to be 9 when she got married!"

Stephen, describing a political meeting that he attended with Sarah: "I shook hands with all the men and hugged all the ladies and they said, "It's good to see you here, Mr. Greek."

Andrew: "200 years ago, everyone was 5 feet tall. That's because they wore hats that stunted their growth. Now, everyone is 6 feet tall."

Off the Record with Abigail

Welcome to the Abigail Exclusive! Here are some of Abigail's most recent observations.

"It would be fun to be a rabbi."

"I think my ears are too small."

to Sarah: "Can we go up to my room and chat? I really like chatting with you."

"I need to take a vow of silence."

"You know how horrible it is when you stay up really late with someone, and you tell them all these things, and then in the morning you're like, 'Why did I say that?'?"

"I've forgotten what they do at weddings."

"Quit trying to be sentimental. You're failing miserably."

*says something completely ridiculous and nearly scandalous*
Sarah: "Abigail!"
"Well, you said something stupid first, and I didn't want you to feel left out."

"They need to know how stupid they are."

"I'm not talking."

Unattended in Walmart

Mom handed me the shopping list.

"You can get started while I have my eye appointment. It'll take about forty-five minutes."

I looked down at David, who was to be my partner in 'crime'. "Sweet! We're gonna have fun, aren't we, buddy?"

"Are we gonna have cart races?" he asked expectantly, seeing my excitement.

"Well, I don't know about that, but we'll sure have some fun!" I promised.

As soon as Mom was out of sight, I started pushing a cart down the aisle and scanned the list. "Ok David, let's get you the slippers you wanted first thing." I stepped over to let him push the cart. "You lead the way, buddy!"

David grinned happily and pushed off. I followed him through men's clothes, then the boy's clothing department. Finally he turned back to the front of the store. He entered one of the main aisles and started going faster. I hurried to catch up, and he turned and gave me a wry smile.

"I wonder what the speed limit is."

Bursting out laughing, I asked, "David, do you know where the slippers are?"

"No, but I don't like this cart, so I'm going to get a new one."

We went back to the front of the store and found a new cart (on second thought, maybe we should have gotten one of those electric wheelchair thingies - that would have been fun!). David took the steering wheel and pushed it a couple feet. "This is too bumpy!" he said, refering to the horrible clacking sound the wheels were making.

"If you give a seven-year-old a shopping cart...." I thought. He would have exchanged it, but I didn't want to waste time.

David told me that he was going to ask someone for directions. I followed his lead. We walked up to a lady who had a badge on. "Where are your slippers?" David questioned.

She shot us a queer look.

"You know, the kind you sleep in."

I smiled and said nothing. The lady guestured for David to follow her and headed toward the back of the store. She stopped and pointed down the long hallway. "Just go to where that big 'SHOE' sign is, ok?"

David nodded and pushed the cart toward the sign. After selecting some camouflage slippers, we headed toward the food department.

"Now, buddy, we are going to take turns finding things. You go first and get some cheese, ok?"

He smiled his consent and started down an aisle.

"No David. I said cheese, not beer."

He led the way and I placed a package in the cart.

"Alrighty, the next thing is avocadoes. Follow me!"

I wound my way through the aisles while he pushed the cart behind me. After deciding that avocadoes were too expensive ($1.17 each) I chose some lettuce, gave David the cart, and read the next item: cottage cheese.

David pushed the cart back to the cheese section, but there was no cottage cheese to be seen. He wandered through some more aisles. We passed a lady shopper. Her little boy, who looked about seven, was following his mom around the store. The two boys exchanged a glance, and I saw pride written all over David's face. That "Aren't-I-cool-and-important?-and-by-the-way-that-wasn't-a-question" look.

A little later, I showed David the way to the cottage cheese (in case you were wondering, it was by the yogurt).

As we were shopping, fellow shoppers continued to give us strange looks. I could plainly tell what they were thinking. "Homeschoolers!"

Also on the list was a wedding present for some friends of ours. David and I went over to the frame and candle section. We passed some CD's and a board where you could hear sample music. I couldn't resist. I turned the music way up and selected some bagpipe music.

"Hey, David, since we're looking for a wedding present, let's get in the mood!"

I pressed "Classic Love Songs". We heard slow saxophone music that was more depressing than romantic. In disgust, I switched it off. David took over as dj while I went to look at the frames. Seeing nothing, I turned around and saw David dancing in the aisle to 'Since You Been Gone'.

Laughing, I went over to him and pointed out the "Little Children on the Move" CD. He turned it on and danced a little jig to "If You're Happy and You Know It".

David and I headed down the aisle while I looked for the next thing on our list. We paused for a Walmart worker who was lugging some bags of dog food. He bore a remarkable resemblance to Albert Einstein, only less smart.

The next thing on our list was rat traps. We had to ask somebody for help. He led the way through the toy section to a place where I never would have thought to look. All the way he was explaining to me why he knew where these traps are because he got some a few weeks earlier and on and on and on. I understood about one-fourth of what he was saying. We got to the traps, but seeing only mouse traps, I asked if they had any rat traps. His eyes got very wide. He froze up a little, but managed "Y-Y-You have RATS?"

"Yeah."

"Oh."

Seeing that they didn't have any, we turned around. I ran ahead and hid behind some Christmas trees, but I couldn't scare David, so we went to the the other side of the store (after I barely managed to get him through the toy section). A drink of water was next. I turned around from the water fountain and was horrified by what I saw.

Painted on the wall was a picture of the earth: big, blue, and green. Under the planet was a drab looking brick building with 'WalMart' painted near the top. There were two sets of doors, both very plain. One side was painted 'Entrance', and the other 'Exit'. Looking at the picture, I knew immediately what was missing. A barbed wire fence surrounding the building.

PROOF! All the theories were true! WalMart WAS going to take over the world! I pointed it out to David loudly just as a Walmart worker passed by. I knew she knew I knew the truth.

After a little more shopping, we finally got tired and decided to follow somebody around. First we tried a mom and a little boy, with little success (they looked at us a few times, but David wanted to find somebody else).

"David! Look at that guy in the black suit! We have to follow him! He's probably a spy!"

"Really?!" His eyes widened.

"Sure! Come on!"

I turned down the aisle behind him, but David darted the opposite way.

"David! What are you doing?" I hissed.

"I'm turning around. This is too scary!"

"David!!"

It was no use. I followed David around, glancing remorsely at the evil dude in the black suit.

We landed next on a mom and her daughter. When the mom went one way and the daughter went the other way, we followed the daughter and found a clue.

She waved to a boy.

Yes, that's right. She waved to a boy! Scandalous.

After that, we followed her over to the aisles that hold hairspray, hair color, brushes and the like. On the way, (we followed about three feet behind her) she glanced quite a few times at me. I knew she was wondering what was up. She tried to hide her glances, but I could tell what she was thinking. I smiled mysteriously, winked at David, and poked him. He grinned back. This was getting good!

Mom paged us over the intercom just then, and we lost her.

Until next time,

Agent Abby

Depends on the Angle

Mr. W. to Stephen: "Isn't your sister Abigail beautiful?"
Stephen: "Yes, if you look at her from the right angle."

Andrew: "I was so cute when I was a kid."
Abigail: "I was cute, too, back when I was a kid. Then I lost my cuteness, but now I'm gaining it back again."

Mom, while discussing Hamas and Hezbollah: "They're in such a beautiful place. I don't understand why they just don't go down to the ocean and swim and think about God."

Stephen and David were making shadows with their hands on the wall of their room one night.
David to Mom: "What's this that I've made?"
Mom: "I think it's a puma."
David: "Nope, guess again."
Mom: "I don't know, it looks like a puma to me."
David: "No, it's the body of a puma and the head of Abraham Lincoln."

Sarah: "Some men are fallible. Others are more so."

David: "I'm allergic to socks. I don't wear socks."

Sarah: "John Donne said 'No man is an island'. He was right. He forgot to take the next step, though. No woman is a continent."

Sarah: "Could you hand me that silly little whatcha-ma-call-it thingy thing?"

Abigail to Sarah: "I learned a long time ago not to question your logic."

Woman: "Did you see that old man jump off the cliff into the river?"
Mrs. D: "That was my husband."
Woman: "Oh, dear! I would never let my husband do that."
Mrs. D: "I would never think of stopping mine."

Mr. D: "That's my walking partner: we go walking together every morning. He's only ninety."

Mrs. D: "What kind of tree is that?"
Mr. D: "It's a green tree."

Sarah: "The milk is bad."
Dad: "The milk isn't bad. It just tastes....different."

Ruthie: "I have two friends. One gives me good advice, and the other gives me bad advice. They both help."

Sarah: "Why do you have to do it just because I'm doing it?"
Andrew: "Because you opened the door, so I'm walking through."

Dad, reading 1st Corinthians: "...Where is the debater of this age?"
Stephen: "Sarah!"

Stephen: "It's good to cry a little bit everyday."

Andrew to Sarah, who was ordering him around: "You're acting like an old maid this morning, only worse."

Mom to Andrew: "Don't do that, because I do that, and it's bad."


photo by Jef Bettens

If...

I filled out a tax form today. You know, one of those ominous little black and white monsters who terrorize Americans like clockwork every April.

Oh! That reminds me. I wonder if anyone has ever thought of designating the IRS as a terrorist organization. After all, if you don't buy them off, they'll come with big guns and...

Never mind! Just kidding. To all the IRS agents out there reading this: I take it back! Really, I do.

Back to my story. So, I was filling out this tax form. And suddenly I see a little note at the bottom of the page.

"For federal tax purposes, you are considered a person if you are:

An individual who is a citizen or resident of the United States,

A partnership, corporation, company, or association created or organized in the United States or under the laws of the United States, or

Any estate (other than a foreign estate) or trust. See Regulations sections 301.7701-6(a) and 7(b) for additional information."

Wow.

That piqued my interest. You are a person if?

I always thought you were a person if you were capable of wondering if you are a person. Cogito, ergo sum! I mean, you'd think that most of the IRS's audience would be comprised of persons (Unless, of course, there's someone else on the planet who is interested in paying taxes. Yes! Let the primates foot the bill!).

Apparently I was mistaken. For all I knew, I might be a nonperson. For federal tax purposes, I could be anything!

My fingers twitched nervously, and I rocked slowly back and forth in my seat. The pressure was getting to me. Was I a person, or wasn't I?

I ran quickly through the list. I am not a partnership, corporation, company, association, or estate.

But I am an individual...right?

You can't be too careful. I rushed over to the nearest computer and typed in the address of my trusty friend: dictionary.com

"Individual"

The page had never loaded so slowly. I bit down hard on my lip and waited desperately for the verdict.

"Individual: a person."

What?

And to think that I went to all that trouble.

Thanks for the vote of confidence, tax form. It's nice to be sure.



See Regulation section 28450.2731 subsection 342.18(b) for additional information.

When Freezers Feel

I've written before about the beautiful personality that lurks just below the coldness of modern society. Some people like to think of technology as cold and hard and uncaring, but in my personal journey, I've discovered that even machines are capable of expressing deep emotional sentiments.

Well, I had another glorious moment of discovery in Walmart (where else?) a few weeks ago. I was grocery shopping. The monotony of aisles and carts and shelves was beginning to wear on my mind, and a dreadful dullness was creeping over my spirit. Listlessly, I added item after item to the cart with a quiet apathy. It had been a rough day. I was just another consumer in a billion-dollar industry.

Frozen broccoli was next on my list. I yawned and directed my cart toward an aisle in the frozen food department. As I started down the row, I happened to notice that all the lights were off in the freezers. Oh dear. The second law of thermodynamics was at work...again.

But I was wrong. A greater law was at work here. Just as the front of my cart became parallel with the first freezer door, the lights inside snapped on cheerfully. Astonishing!

All else magically disappeared to me as I glided down the aisle. With each step I took, the lights on either side flashed on merrily, with a brilliant wink and a smile. The food inside grinned enticingly under the friendly glow of the bulbs.

I felt as though I walked on red carpet. I could almost hear a Marine band playing Hail to the Chief. I could almost sense the thundering applause. Never had I been so respected in Walmart! Never had my arrival been so celebrated!

My back straightened, and a brilliant smile lit my face. For the first time in my shopping career, I felt noticed and appreciated. For the first time in my life, a freezer had expressed respect for my natural superiority!

Of course, a less astute consumer would probably have come to a very different conclusion. They might have guessed that the new lighting system was merely the result of a desire to cut utility costs. Perhaps they would have decided that Sam Walton had been convicted by Al Gore's Convenient Lie and and become aware of the fact that every moment of saved electricity benefited Antarctica's polar bears all that much more....

But I knew the truth. I immediately understood that this was a noble effort to honor me, the consumer. Me, the consumer, the missing link that made the world's economy possible. The consumer, who, out of all the places that she could be, choose to spend her money and her afternoon in Walmart's frozen food department. It was about time for some recognition!

I turned down the next aisle of frozen food. Just ahead of me, two young girls were sauntering proudly down the aisle, grinning like only girls who know they're loved can do. The freezer lights flickered on in perfect synch with their steps. You could see the joy all over their faces. Society had recognized their value! In a moment, they had gone from just another consumer to respected princesses. You could practically hear the symphony.

We exchanged broad smiles and shared a secret giggle. It was the first kind look from a fellow shopper all afternoon!

My spirits lifted, I continued the day.

~ ~ ~

Just yesterday, I found myself in Walmart once again, doing the family's grocery shopping. Noting the frozen items on my list, I headed over to the frozen food aisles. This time I wasn't looking forward to the welcome I knew I'd receive, though. I had just returned from a funeral. It wasn't a time to celebrate.

Apparently, though, the freezers caught on. They continued in their morose darkness as I padded down the aisle. The ice cream freezer, however, farther on down, flickered up tentatively. Somehow, I found the low wink consoling. Hope would rise again in the morning.

I selected a half gallon of (all-natural) strawberry ice cream, to celebrate. After all, it was on the grocery list!

I went home comforted. The freezers loved, understood, and appreciated me for all I was worth. It was a dark world, but the freezers cared!

Next time, I fully expect a hug.

Why not?

Overheard at TPJ

For those of you at TP Judicial who requested them. Thanks for the laughs and the great memories!

Mr G: "I decided I'd come down and make sure ya'll weren't dancing around fires or anything."

Kyra: "If I was watching me, I would creep myself out."

Mr. G [a lawyer]: "I hate lawyers. None of my friends are lawyers. Lawyers are the most obnoxious segment of the population."

"Maybe if we make coffee like Mr. Echols, we'll act like Mr. Echols."

"I've never made coffee before, but I don't think that's the way you make it."

"But these (party hats) make us look awkward."
"We looked awkward already."

"I didn't realize that I was supposed to be offended by that, but thanks for letting me know."

"What's a motorboat? Is that like a regular boat with a motor?"

Kyra: "Save a monkey. Shoot a person."
Landon: "That monkey will then turn into a person."
Kyra: "Who will then shoot himself to save another monkey."

Kyra: "I see baby seals and then I'm like 'I need a stuffed animal!'"

"You're generic. We can buy you at Sam's Club."
"In bulk. At discount price."

To a chess player: "You're...chessy."

"In Arizona, we're 50th at everything, and proud of it."

"In Ohio we lose at everything, but we're very protective of it."

Emily Smith: "If the whole lawyer thing doesn't work, you can go be a manager at QT."

Kyra: "...but that would encourage grown men to wear sandals in public, and we don't want that."

Erinn to me: "You would look good with angel wings."

Mr. Norris:

"Take the flavor of what I'm saying and not the snippets, because when you take the snippets, it's bad for me."

Unfortunately for Mr. Norris, I took the snippets. Here are the results:

"Are you the kind of person who likes to write outlines with Roman numerals? Well, I'm not going to give that to you. I go all over the place."

"Did you just write that down, and you don't know what it means? Good! You're on your way to becoming a lawyer."

On ethics: "They're ok with stealing the ball, but they're mad because their ball was stolen."

On making assumptions: "Don't you just see how you can jump from lilypad to lilypad, and then all of a sudden it's not a lilypad, but it's a magic carpet and you fly away...?"

On justice: "...Or you could just go and try the vigilante style, where all the good people kill all the bad people, and it's great. Except then you forget which group you're in."

"...the Constitution, which was sort of ratified by sort of most of us."

"If you can dance on the head of a pin, and you do, that's fine, but when your feet start hurting, don't cry out to God, because He's the one holding the pin."

On democracy: "I'm not always crazy about the majority. Sometimes the majority is stupid."

"He's brilliant [referring to his son]. He said, 'it wants to kill me, therefore I must kill it.'"

"If I knew that I danced that bad, I would be against dancing."

Conversation on Wheels

Ever been in a conversation that moved fast enough to get lost in? A conversation that went from philosophy to shampoo at the snap of a finger?

A few weeks ago, I found myself in a large van full of gregarious TeenPacters. For two entire hours. It was great. We went from discussing politics to commenting on garlic in about 0.2 seconds.... and that was just the tip of the iceberg.

I journaled our topics of conversation for about twenty minutes. Here's what we covered during that time span, in the order we discussed it. As you'll notice, we jumped from one subject to the next at a breathtaking speed. Sometimes you can see where one topic led to the next, but at other times even relevance is irrelevant.


Characteristics of the South

Women in the South

Feminism

Political correctness

Garlic in Italy

Seatbelt legislation

The purpose of government

Traffic fatalities

Motorboat accidents

Synonyms for 'morbid'

Mispronouncing vocabulary words

Mispronouncing 'Penelope'

Adventures in Odyssey vs. Homer's Odyssey

The ridiculous conversation we were engaged in

Solutions for disposing of the world's waste (all of them unpractical)

Smog in New York City

How to propel trash into space

Global warming

Global cooling

Al Gore's electric bill

An Inconvenient Truth

The Kyoto Protocol

Polar bears and seals

Stuffed animals

Overpopulation

The Life of Pi

Party hats

Barf bags

Food poisoning

China's equivalent of the FDA and what they're up to

Panda bears

Bamboo

Veggie Tales

Mars Hill

Small towns

The nature of reality

Rene Descartes

Plato

The 'if it feels good, do it' philosophy

"I think, therefore I am" vs. 'I am, therefore, I think'

The upcoming moot court tournament

....and there it ended, because we remembered that some of us would be competing in the tournament. ;)