the secret of success

This is a special day for my beloved's family, for it is the anniversary of his grandparents.  He is their eldest grandchild, born on their 25th wedding anniversary.  That was a while ago, and a lot has happened since then. 

Sixty-plus years of marriage do not elapse without struggle.  Arriving at this milestone requires each spouse’s commitment every day to living the vocation to which God has called them.  This daily acceptance of God’s will is a choice each spouse makes to work for the good of the other, to love each other as God loves each person.  When asked how they accomplished this feat of longevity, my beloved's grandmother is quick to note that prayer is essential to the equation.  Without a prayerful perspective, the ins and outs of daily life weigh heavily on shoulders with the best of intentions but little foundation upon which to rest.  

The pair who now call me their granddaughter (omitting the "in-law" part) continue to give witness to the power of faith, hope, and love in action by their daily commitment to prayer and self-sacrifice, using words only when necessary to explain with great humility the great blessing they have received of so many years spent hand in hand serving the Lord.  Built on the foundation of sacramental marriage, this couple (like so many others) has seen its share of happiest joys, deepest sorrows, and the gamut of emotions and experiences in between.   Their family and friends rejoice with them on the happy occasion of their anniversary and thank God for the blessing of knowing and learning from this couple as we do.    

Stories like this one serve as inspiration to those wondering how to make marriages last so long or how to keep children close to the faith.  My beloved's grandparents and other long-time married couples like them know the accomplishment is really a blessing that, along with the blessing of relative good health for both spouses, comes through having allowed themselves to be the instruments through which God works out his plan, by cooperating with the Lord through an attitude of self-giving, and by taking up the crosses big and small that the Lord sees fit to place in their paths every day.  This approach has made the Earthly journey the couples have traveled together an altogether happy one, but their ultimate goal is to see each other in Heaven. 

Friday night live

Earlier this evening...

All four bambini are out in the garage with my beloved.  Tomorrow is the Pinewood Derby for the elder lad's Cub Scout pack, so the lad and his dad are putting the finishing touches on his lustrous truck (another one).  Through the open door I can banging, clanging, scuffling, and the younger lass yelling jubilantly "here we go!"  She and her sister are sitting in the green wagon that is rarely used for outings to the neighborhood playground anymore.  The younger lad is nearby in a stance that reads "train conductor" although he is wearing a black shirt vest (over his white school uniform polo) with green felt strategically cut and placed to look like what Chris Kratt wears on the lads' favorite show Wild Kratts graciously made for him by the mother of one of his classmates after hearing how much he, his brother, and his sisters enjoy that show.  The lasses say they are going to the beach. I'm not sure how the lad fits in the beach trip, but I have every confidence that he's got a plan.  Maybe they're taking the train to the beach.

How they love to go tinker around in the garage with their dad, sometimes stomping around in the bed of his truck, sometimes dabbing paint on small blocks of wood like the elder lass did last year as her brothers painted their Derby cars, sometimes using tools on a project with his skilled and immediate guidance.  The younger lad won't get to enter a car in the Pinewood Derby until next year when he is a first-year Cub Scout, but he's made a car (or is this year's a boat?) both years alongside his brother. 

The outcome of tomorrow's Pinewood Derby is anyone's guess, and we're not worried about that.  The process of creating, crafting, and finishing the cars has been the real prize.

The day has had its ups and downs, from these amicable sounds, school Mass, and lunch with a cherished friend to displays of fury from tired, frustrated bambini and sibling squabbles that are nothing new.  The scene in the garage ended when the lasses came in to get ready for bed and the Derby truck with freshly-installed wheels came in to cure overnight. Then it was the usual nuttiness that is the bedtime routine.

I'm sure glad I stepped away from folding laundry to take in the sights and sounds out in the garage.  It was a moment meant to capture forever.

city slickers

Maybe someday soon the lads and my beloved will embark upon the fantastic journey that is The Chronicles of Narnia for their bedtime reading, but for now they are reading -- for the most part -- lighter (while still adventurous) fare. The Little House books weren't without suspense, sorrow, or drama, but that was about as much of any of those things the lads are up for at bedtime.

My beloved remembers reading adventure stories of the vintage variety by an author named Troy Nesbit. The Diamond Cave Mystery was my beloved's favorite, so when a search at our local library turned up nothing, I bought a used copy from that purveyor of any and all things (that would be Amazon Marketplace, which is a bit like rifling through untold numbers of garage sales for that which has been cast off but is still of some use to someone else) for Christmas two years ago I found it for him to share with the boys. They ate it up. According to the elder lad, "two boys find diamonds in a cave, and they try to find out who [the diamonds] belong to."

The younger lass is a willing book model, even if she doesn't read the tome herself -- yet.

 Given the younger lad's continuing fascination with horses and cowboys, I was thrilled to find another novel by Nesbit called The Sand Dune Pony. That's the current bedtime read, and from all accounts it's as good as the Diamond Cave Mystery (and not too soon for the younger lad, who had had enough of the Laura Ingalls Wilder books).  In this story a boy catches and "gentles" a wild horse. For these suburban lads who dream of the day they might live on "some land," this book is perfect.

These classic adventures are in the same echelon of heroic stories as the Billy and Blaze books by C. W. Anderson and the Little Tim books by Edward Ardizzone.  As we strive to steer our young squires on the right side of the high road, characters like those in Troy Nesbit novels are welcome passengers.

twenty questions, volume three

"snowy volcano cake" (otherwise known as [near] flourless chocolate cake) made by my beloved and the younger lass.  I'm a lucky girl.

I am hellbent adamant about recording the collective memory of our bambini via interviews taken informally around birthdays.  Two years ago I launched this interviewing initiative (with some borrowed questions) on the occasion of my birthday.  Last year's birthday interview was about six months late, so it's only been half a year or so since I polled the bambini about their scatter-brained if well-intentioned mother.  I gave myself a little assessment yesterday.  Today it's their turn to weigh in on what Mama does best, what they seem to remember hearing me say, and the legacy I am leaving for them...

While I attempted to interview the two-year-old younger lass, it became obvious very quickly that doing so would be an exercise in futility.  Maybe next year.

1. What is something Mama often says to you?
7 year old elder lad: I love you.
5 year old younger lad: I love you.
3.5 year old elder lass: I love you.
2 year old younger lass: I sew.

2. What makes Mama happy?
elder lad: I love you.
younger lad: when [we're] not fighting
elder lass: when I smile

3. What makes Mama sad?
elder lad: I hate you. [I'm guessing he means the verbalization of these fighting words.]
younger lad: when [we're all] fighting
elder lass: when I scream

4. What does Mama do that makes you laugh?
elder lad: tickle me
younger lad: tickle me
elder lass: tell funny stories

5. What was Mama like as a little girl?
elder lad: I don't know
younger lad: I don't know
elder lass: I don't know

6. How old is Mama?
elder lad: 34
younger lad: 34
elder lass: ummm.... 33

cookie cake made by my dear dad, as has long been tradition,
with six happy little music notes for the six of us in my little family
and one grand piano with precisely-placed chocolate sprinkle keys.  I'm such a lucky girl.

7. How tall is Mama?
elder lad:  let's say about five feet tall
younger lad: eight feet high... [but] that would be taller than Dad!  Dad's six feet high.  Maybe... aha! You're five feet high!  You're a little bit shorter than Dad [demonstrates with his hand].
elder lass: We'll have to measure you again!

8. What is Mama's favorite thing to do?
elder lad: sew
younger lad: sew
elder lass: sew

9. What does Mama do when you're not around?
elder lad: clean house
younger lad: love me still
elder lass: sew

10.  If Mama were famous, what would it be for?
elder lad: her love
younger lad: loving us
elder lass: I don't know.

11.What is Mama good at?
elder lad: cooking
younger lad: sewing
elder lass: sewing

12. What is Mama *not* good at?
elder lad: crawling on the floor like a horse
younger lad: dancing?
elder lass: she's not good at..... [looks sideways at me] I don't know.

13. What is Mama's job?
elder lad: to watch [my sisters]... and me and [my brother]... to teach us things... to watch us so that we get along............taking care of us
younger lad: to take care of us
elder lass: to sew

14. What is Mama's favorite food?
elder lad: potato soup
younger lad: salad! [points upward victoriously]
elder lass: salad!

15. What makes you proud of Mama?
elder lad: [thinking long and hard on this one] I don't know.  (then later) I said I don't know what makes me proud because you do all kinds of stuff that makes me proud but I just couldn't say it.  I don't know.  ["so you're proud of me, but you're not sure why?"] yeah.
younger lad:  that she snuggles me
elder lass: 'cause she snuggles me

16. What is something we do together?
elder lad: bake
younger lad: sew
elder lass: sew 

17. How are you and I the same?
elder lad: We both have dark hair.
younger lad: We both are humans.
elder lass: We both have black hair. [Actually, we both have brown hair.]

18. How are you and I different?
elder lad: You're a girl and I'm a boy.
younger lad: You have long hair and I have short hair.
elder lass: We don't have the same color skin.  [This elicits my quizzical face, as we are both fair-skinned.]

19. Where is Mama's favorite place to go?
elder lad: Missouri
younger lad: [a local pizza franchise based in the town where I went to college, answering again with the victorious hand gesture]
elder lass: [a locally-owned purveyor of "crispy bite-size chicken"]

20.  How do you know that Mama loves you?
elder lad: 'cause she says so
younger lad: because she tells me that.  Am I done now?
elder lass: because she tells me that.  Am I done now? [yes, they both answered exactly the same in separate interviews}

I'll save the analysis and my response for another time.  For now I'll just say that I think I may have hit upon the way to conduct these interviews successfully -- that would be by parking them in the glider we've had since the elder lad was a newborn.  That way they can rock and fidget and gesture and wiggle around, thus allowing the answers to come freely and resulting in a quick and relatively painless interview that serves as a gift of sorts to Mama and fodder for much navel gazing.

Super Tuesday

Our eighth wedding anniversary was this past Tuesday, which was also the first day of school for the elder lad (now in second grade) and elder lass (who started preschool two days a week) with some medical- and school-related appointments for the younger lad thrown in the mix for some logistical bonus points.  (His first day of Kindergarten came two days later.)

With everything going on that busy "super Tuesday", it didn't bear much resemblance to the peaceful day my beloved and I entered into the sacrament of marriage. To celebrate this anniversary, we had gone out to dinner the previous weekend, and I made a favorite meal on our actual anniversary, but the focus of the day was not so much on the two of us as it was about the young family for whom we are now caring.  This anniversary had its roots in that wedding day, when we consented to accepting children willingly from the Lord and bringing them up according to the law of Christ and his Church. 

We are in a season of family life where the bambini are a primary focus of our efforts, attention, and energy.  As we continue to discern how best to balance their needs with our own, including the need for the two of us to stay in sync as we journey heavenward, I pray the Lord will continue to bless us with opportunities for refreshment with each other, for wisdom to know how best to care for the bambini he has seen fit to send our way (if only for a little while), for grace to see each other as Christ sees each of us and love each other accordingly, and for length of days to serve him hand in hand. 

back in business

There is much rejoicing in these parts over a tiny piece of six-pronged plastic:

It's called a coupler, and it connects the base of the blender to its jar.  This is our second replacement coupler, just arrived a couple of days ago, after searching high and low and everywhere else for the one I had ordered a few months ago and stashed for when the then-current coupler finally lost all its prongs in the process of twice-daily drinakable yogurt and smoothie blending.

Considering the amount of blending that goes on around here every day with all the yogurt we consume, it's understandable a few parts of the blender would need replacing now and then.  In the interim we made use of this behemoth for the daily blending needs:

While it did an admirable job pinch hitting (blending?) for the laid-up blender, I'm ever so grateful my handy husband was able to get the blender back up and running like the washing machine (among other things).  I fully expect the missing part to turn up any day now that we've gone and ordered another one.  That's alright.  We may need it eventually, considering we whaz up (to borrow an expression from chef Jamie Oliver) 4,621 gallons of smoothies or thereabouts each year.

Occasionally, the elder lad has been known to swill a sip or two of drinkable yogurt.  He developed his own recipe...

 ... and (with supervision) he takes care of the blending.

Here's the recipe I've come to expect for breakfast, a mid-morning snack, a drink to take along on the afternoon school pick-up run, or a bedtime snack (I blend it up after dinner and stash it in the fridge):

Mama's Go-To Smoothie:
3-4 frozen strawberries
3-4 frozen peach slices
5-6 frozen blackberries
2/3 cup plain low-fat yogurt (sometimes I use Greek yogurt for half of this amount)
1/3 cup apple juice
1/3 cup Green Goodness juice
1 Tablespoon flax oil

Welcome back, Blender.  It's great to hear you whirring again.  Food Processor, we thank you for going above and beyond.  We'll let you go back to blending up salsa and what not...

green goodness

The vegetable garden in our backyard is on a great run.   Earlier this spring we had dumptruck loads of beets...

The lads' Tonka dumptruck makes a great produce-hauling mobile, especially with the younger lass at the wheel.

  ...garlic ...

homegrown garlic.  Who knew?!

 ... and peas.

School uniform shirts are good for holding freshly-harvested peas that younger sisters will soon devour.

We also had spinach, radishes, and carrots.  In recent weeks we've been enjoying green onions, white onions, an array of heirloom tomatoes...

 ... and some sweet Jimmy Nardello peppers.   My beloved has been tweaking his salsa recipe with the rest of us (even me, shockingly) serving as taste-testers.

Juan Flamme heirloom tomatoes and Jimmy Nardello peppers from our garden with some thyme from Grandmare's garden

The elder lad has taken upon himself the morning watering duties, all the while doing his level best to keep his baby sister from plucking the unripe fruit from the tomato vines.  That's proving to be a mighty challenge.

All the bambini have gotten into the garden-tending spirit, even sampling the fruits of their labors (some more willingly than others).  Seeing them out there working alongside their daddy is as sweet a sight as the taste is delicious from the "farm to table" produce just beyond our doorstep.

survey says...

We go through a lot of yogurt in this house.  A lot.  One might reasonably expect our digestive tracts would be the healthiest on the block (such a pleasant mental picture. You're welcome.).  We go through so much yogurt that we ought to try making our own, but we haven't gotten there yet.  Seeing as how the elder lad is always in search of a science project, maybe that should be our next one.

(or maybe not)

The brand of yogurt we buy has a reward system going wherein we enter codes from the yogurt lids and accrue points that can be redeemed for coupons and "freebies" and what not.  Once when I went to enter in a stack of codes, as the lids tend to pile up on the counter before I get around to entering them in, a brief survey popped up before the code-entering screen loaded.  The multiple-choice questions were mainly about how much yogurt we buy and in what ways we use yogurt.  It seemed the most appropriate response to each question was the maximum one -- how much yogurt we go through in a week, if we bake/make smoothies/finger paint with yogurt (just kidding on the last one -- except the toddler), things like that.  My beloved and I got a good laugh out of the survey.  At its conclusion we appeared to be ideal candidates for a "man on the street" advertising campaign for the company.

lapping up "sweet milk" -- the melted frozen yogurt that no one can bear to waste

One way we love to use yogurt is for making our own frozen yogurt -- chocolate, no less.  Here's how we do it...

motivators

On the last day of school we drove to the library and signed up for the Summer Reading Program, which asks each participant to read (or be read) a certain number of books and visit the library a few times in order to earn a medal and prizes.  There are special programs and events throughout the summer as well.  We've made it a point to participate since the elder lad was a toddler.  We read to him in those days.  These days he can read to himself (and his siblings). 

Each year when the bambini sign up for the program, they are eager to see the medal and prizes -- sometimes stuffed animals, other times inflatable toys -- they stand to earn.  As soon as we get home from the library they ask me to get out the previous years' medals, which I usually have stashed somewhere after said prizes have been used as lassos or other contraband. 

Reading books together is a high-priority agenda item most days, so we reach the goal of however many books it is to win the whole shebang of prizes fairly early on in the summer.  The elder lad has reveled in writing down the books he's read in his log.

A day or so into the book-logging project, my beloved was giving the elder lad some good-natured teasing about reading before bedtime -- more specifically, that the lad needed to cease his dilly-dallying getting ready for bed lest there be no time left for reading.  The lad wasn't too concerned. 

"It's important to keep reading during the summer so you don't forget how," said my beloved, hoping to motivate the lad.

"But Dad," said the lad," I've already read 12 books today!"

Our aunt who teaches at the school our bambini attend had a snappy comeback of her own when she heard about that:  "Time for longer books!  Next up: War and Peace..." 

little things

happiness is...

...a sack of fresh library books and a favorite pair of "clip clops"
(and a washing machine back in business, with many thanks to my handy husband)

good news • bad news • good eats

This can't be good:

our washing machine presently

...especially when we're going on a week with a nasty virus afflicting most of us (the elder lad and I are the holdouts).  One might expect that a few days with an offline washer might mean I'd catch up a little, but alas this is not the case.

Downer as that may be, I am happy to report that the elder lad has been branching out a bit from his standard fare, eating more fresh fruit and even some vegetables.  He says broccoli is his favorite, but he and his sister (the three-year-old elder lass) made short work of some of our backyard garden-fresh peas.

Lass could use a manicure.

We had planned to use those peas in a stir-fry for dinner, but our little field hands took a hefty "fee" for their picking work.  That's alright. 

Speaking of stir-frying, that's what I'm writing about today at Foodie Proclivities.  Check it out here.  Have I ever mentioned that my beloved and I lived in the same high-rise residence hall for a semester but never once met?

He lived in the guys' tower and I lived in the girls' tower, but the two towers shared a cafeteria with a wok station (about which I reminisce further in the post at Foodie Proclivities; please do click over).

I can't help but wonder how many times we were in that cafeteria -- maybe even wok-ing -- at the same time.  The Lord sure does have a sense of humor.  He knew it wasn't yet time for us to meet.  I had to work on my stir-frying skills...

important matters of Legos and life

A few weeks ago the elder lad was especially fretful.  At first he worried that he'd sucked up a Lego when he was vacuuming one evening.  He was willing to sift through the contents of the vacuum cleaner bag in search of the missing piece.  He was persuaded to first dump out the various containers of Legos we've amassed and put each piece back so as to check for the missing one.  Blessedly, my beloved helped him with this endeavor, and they found the longed-for Lego.  There was much rejoicing.

That moment was a long time coming.  As they worked together and throughout the many episodes in which the lad expressed with great emotion how much he wanted to find the missing Lego, my beloved would talk to the lad in a sympathetic albeit straightforward way about how the Lego was just a thing, that it wasn't something that would matter in the final analysis of the lad's life.  It being a thing, it could not keep him from loving and serving God (unless he let it). 

Once that was resolved, the lad began to worry that something *might* be buried in the dirt box out back -- something like a favorite truck or toy that he would miss if we were to move to a different home.  As often as they've tilled that dirt box with their shovels, this is highly unlikely.  He is not convinced, and since now there are vegetables planted in that box, they may not go uprooting those in search of the toy, which may or may not be missing.  The lad is still worried about losing something important to him (although he can't articulate what it is he's looking for or recall having buried it -- whatever it is -- in the dirt box), but he does now acknowledge "it's just a thing" (whatever it is).

We have a saying here:  "people are always more important than things.". I didn't coin the phrase, but I have employed it many a time.

A few nights ago the lads had the Legos out again (along with the requisite separator tool).  By some misfortune, the younger lad accidentally broke one of the trucks the elder lad had created.  The younger lad apparently said something apologetic to his older brother, who was surprisingly gracious about the mistake.  After the elder lad reassured his brother that this would not spell imminent doom for the younger brother, the grateful lad said, "it's just a thing.  It can be fixed.  People can't be fixed."  Together they rebuilt the truck.

Thank you, Lord, for these reassurances that the messages of gentleness, forgiveness, and respect that we're trying to send are getting through.  Such gifts help buoy us when any one of us chooses to behave otherwise.

debriefing

dinner table debriefing in progress...

Elder lass to her daddy: "What did you do at your office?"
Her daddy (my beloved): "I sat in two meetings which took up most of the day."

her: "What is your office like?"
him: "Actually, we met in the kitchen."

her: "In the kitchen?!  Were there curtains?"
him: "No -- there were windows, but it wasn't so bright that we needed curtains."

her: "Did you have a picnic?"
him: "No."
her: "We did."

her: "Where did you take your nap?"
him: "I didn't get to take one."

With that unexpected answer, there were no more questions.

not my thing -- or is it?

We made these cookies earlier this week for the elder lad's birthday snack at school -- even though his birthday isn't for another two months. His wonderful teacher works the summer birthdays into the classroom celebration calendar so that the summer babes can bask in birthday glory with their schoolmates before everyone scatters for the summer.

We used this oatmeal cookie recipe (with most of the oats ground into flour to smooth out the texture) and frosted them with this glaze. By all accounts, they were right tasty.

A mom of one of the elder lad's classmates -- one who has been unfailingly generous and friendly to me, a relative newcomer to the parish school community, for which I am so grateful -- asked me recently after I brought homemade baked doughnuts to a class party if baking is "my thing."

"It is now," I told her, relating how I'd taken up the craft as a way of both feeding my picky selective eaters well *and* having something fun to do with them. Before I had children there were a few recipes that I liked to bake (brownies being the primary one), but the activity usually wasn't my first choice when I had free time (whatever that is). Playing the piano was my thing. Making jewelry was my thing. Doing various paper- and fabric-related crafts was my thing. Baking and cooking?  Meh. 

When my beloved and I were courting, my attitude toward cooking began to change because it was a hobby of his.  He was (and is still) amazingly skilled and at ease in the kitchen, as his recent Sammy can chicken experiment shows, and cooking together soon became a favorite pastime of ours. 

Nowadays I spend a lot of time in the kitchen doing a lot of "from-scratch" cooking and baking -- and I like to do it (usually). Serving nutritionally-dense meals is important to my beloved and me, and this is one way we accomplish that.  It's not a matter of wanting to show off or be Super Mom or anything like that.  It's mainly about finding a way to satiate this formidable sweet tooth of mine (and that of my elder lad, gee willikers) in a way that precludes sugar high-related behavioral unpleasantries and negative impacts on physical wellbeing.

Rolled and cut out cookies with frosting decorations are definitely not my thing.  Those are generally more hassle and mess than I'm willing to take on with little helpers, but I am at times persuaded to make exceptions. Especially during Easter season, we revel in the sweet treats that often accompany celebrations like birthdays and sacraments. We can do so in good conscience by eating in moderation and choosing ingredients that are both wholesome and delicious. And if we get to make those treats together as part of the festivities, so much the better.

upcycling for Sunday dinner

Talk about upcycling: remember Sammy the robot from the younger lad's fifth birthday?   When his robot days were over, his parts were used to make a tasty Sunday dinner with no metallic aftertaste.  Check it out at Foodie Proclivities.  My beloved cooks up some pretty good ideas.

jubilee

It's been a big day on our family calendar, as we've been celebrating my beloved's grandparents' 60th wedding anniversary, my beloved's birthday, and the anniversary of our engagement. The blessings stemming from these milestones are humbling in their magnitude and have been life-giving in many ways. What an honor it is to share in this jubilee.

high five

 

This. Is. Sammy. 

Sammy. Is. A. Robot.

The. Younger. Lad. Built. Him. With. The. Lad's. Father. Brother. And. Papere. 

(that's robot language -- can you tell?)

We celebrate five years of life with the delightful younger lad, born this day (finally -- after *many* hours of active waiting).  The lad has always been a fun-loving, free-wheeling, highly-imaginative kind of kid.  He's  growing ever more into a considerate, compassionate, and loving boy.  He's a busy guy, with lots to act out from the stories he cooks up in his head, and he has big dreams for what is to come.

May the Lord bless you this day, dear lad, and every day, with an unfailing awareness of both His and our love for you.  We are so glad and grateful you are a part of our family.  You bring such richness, adventure, and warmth to every day.  God has big plans for your life, lad, and we're here to help you discern what those are.

We love you, young squire!

our first Pinewood Derby

Time for lads, dads, and papas out in the garage working with tools followed by a fun and exciting day of races (some lost, some won) has made for a valuable and memorable deposit in the bank of experience.

"the incident"

At Foodie Proclivities today I'm talking about broiling.  I've been honing my skills for this technique, which really means that I've had some successes tempered by a few spectacular failures and near misses.

One such near miss was this past Advent.  On the day my beloved and I shared on the family Advent calendar, I wanted to celebrate by making fajitas for my beloved, as it's one of his favorite homemade meals.  Using this fast chicken fajita recipe but substituting flank steak for the chicken, I was excited at the prospect of having everything prepared in the hope of having dinner shortly after my beloved arrived home from work. 

Once I knew he was on his way home, I figured out the timing for broiling first the foil-lined tray of beef and then the vegetables. It was going to work out so perfectly -- so I thought...

I peeked in the oven through the door that I'd left cracked open (and by which I had been standing guard) to see a **flame** rising up off the surface of the beef, so as my beloved walked through the door, I had to greet him not with "hello!" but with "help! the oven's on fire!"

Blessedly, it went out quickly on its own after we turned off the oven (me) and removed the steak (he).  We lowered the rack and were back in business.  It was actually pretty tasty thanks to the char I'd unwittingly achieved *plus* the whole house had a bit of the bambini's favorite Mexican restaurant's ambiance going on what with the wafting smoke and all.

As I was cleaning up afterward, I overheard the elder lad say gravely to the younger lad in reference to the dinnertime excitement, "are you going to tell your friends about 'the incident' at school tomorrow?"

spoiler alert

And now for something completely different...

The lads are fascinated with the life and times of Laura Ingalls Wilder -- well, not so much Laura as her Pa and uncles Henry and George. They've just finished Little House in the Big Woods with my beloved.  It's not their first encounter with Laura, her sisters, Ma, Pa, and their "good ol' bulldog Jack."  We're on our second pass through the picture books in the My First Little House series, having read them when the lads were younger and now again that the elder lass is able to enjoy them.  The picture books are excerpts from Wilder's original stories with illustrations to emulate those of Garth Williams that festooned her first editions.

At school the elder lad has tucked away in his desk a later book in the series for when he has a free moment and has enjoyed providing "spoilers" to the family story such as, "did you know Mary goes blind?!" and "did you know Laura has another sister?" since the picture books and Little House in the Big Woods focus on the family story before baby Grace was born.

I read the Little House books as a young girl and am enjoying reading them again as an adult.  As I do, I can't help but think about what their lives were like -- especially Ma's -- in relation to my own.  Laura was born 145 years ago, and to think of how much the world has changed between then and now boggles the mind.  They might not have had to wrestle with four car seats, but they weren't exactly riding in comfort across the prairie and back, either.

Aspects of the life Laura and her family lived remain relevant to our lives today.  Even with all our modern conveniences and technology, people will always be more important than things.  Reading the original Little House books with their greater level of detail helps us reinforce that message, because we can clearly see how happy and how resourceful they were with the little they had.  They had each other, and that was all that mattered.

As the bambini get older, I am looking forward to reading with them the books that have been written about the other women in Laura's family including her mother Caroline, grandmother Charlotte, great-grandmother Martha, and daughter Rose.

Life in Laura's day certainly wasn't easy.  To read of the hardships they endured really keeps things in perspective!  Yet their devotion to each other and their resiliency supersede all the struggles, making the Little House stories as compelling as ever and inspirational to readers (and listeners) of all ages.