Eight Years of Wedded Blessings

Though I'm weeks behind, here's to my wonderful, wonderful husband for eight years of wedded blessings. We've moved four times in three states; been blessed with four children, three of them living; worked ten different jobs, not including that of student; traveled ten thousands of miles; and  laughed and cried and scrubbed and yelled and painted and cooked and cleaned and savored--yes, savored what we have been given. I pray God gives us many, many more years together!
 

I married up, as you can see.

Early Audition Video for America's Got Talent 2028

During our travels in the last few months, S began channeling his inner singer and regaled us with from-the-gut versions of every two-year-old's favorite tune, "Meet Me in St. Louis." I kept trying to catch him at it, and he finally acquiesced. P wasn't so feeling so hot, so he didn't chime in as he usually does, but S more than made up for him (note especially the "I'M a big boy. I'M a big boy." he throws in at the end). I can't watch this without laughing so hard I cry. And yes, this was unscripted. S is ready for stardom, I think!

Late Summer Moments

Yesterday, I took a few pictures of some sweet summer moments. After the last few weeks of convalescence--somehow I got strep, but luckily, Papa and the kids didn't--the quiet normalcy of watching our sons and our daughter was a gift. P pulled out a great two-fer, completing his first self-portrait and writing his name by himself with no prompting. Then he "framed" it on the refrigerator with letter magnets. I had to capture his dual masterpiece for posterity.

As I snapped that picture, C babbled on the floor next to me. She's sitting up by herself now, balancing very well, and a few times a day she even pulls herself up--to look into the bathtub at her brothers, to try to grab books off of a shelf. I've been telling people that even though she's a baby, she's not a baby anymore. Today, as Papa and I rocked on the front porch with C, watching the boys pedal on tricycles on the walk, C reached for me as Papa held her. She looked directly into my face and said, "Ma-ma." We were both moved. Especially when, with a little prompting, she looked at her father and said, "Pa-pa."

I couldn't pick just one. I mean, could you?

After such great pictures of C on the floor, I just had to run outside and capture the boys in action. Our back deck is finally gone--it was old, with a crimped design, and we've wanted a patio for years. Anyway, as I walked out of the back, this is what I saw.

Then I found the boys in the tomato patch, wearing their swimming trunks. Because where else do boys go in their swimming trunks than in the tomato patch?

P and S told me they were pretending the tomato patch was a forest. So there you go.

Papa's been canning consistently these last few weeks--salsa, medium and super-hot, and tomatoes in their own juice--and yet the tomatoes keep coming. August, particularly late August, is tomatoes, I think. Especially Papa's tomatoes.

The boys finally made it over to their swimming pool. Most of their toys spend more time in their pool than they do. Lately they've enjoyed playing in the dirt where the deck was after they get wet. Ah, the joys of children playing!

Happy end of summer, dear ones. May you enjoy a few lovely moments in these waning warm days.

Yet In Its Depth What Treasures, Part II

In a private letter written in 1820, Percy Bysshe Shelley wrote, ''You are now in London, that great sea, whose ebb and flow at once is deaf and loud, and on the shore vomits its wrecks, and still howls on for more. Yet in its depth what treasures!'' These words in no way conjure up the dignified, even majestic image (re: NBC entry shots) we desire for London. And yet they fit sport, and especially the 2012 Olympics, in London, metaphorically well.  (We don't really want to talk, let alone think, about vomit, do we?)

It's been an exciting two weeks, these Olympic Games. Swimmers, shooters, gymnasts, runners, divers, tennis players, volleyball players, basketball players--amazing athletes all, and we Olsons had our favorites. Phelps made tremendous history (though he began disconcertingly sluggishly), and we will always be glad we witnessed his historic achievement of twenty-two medals. Unfathomable, really--I don't think we'll really be able to appreciate it until years have passed. He's truly a legend.  Lochte made his mark (in more ways than one--wink and YIKES); Schmitt, Vollmer, Soni, and Ledecky pulled off big, happy wins, too (and Brit Adlington showed super class). The US women's gymnastics team won a stellar gold team medal, and Douglas scored the all-around (impressive feats!), but Aly Raisman gets our biggest nod for peaking--and pulling off awesome performances--AND being such a great team leader for the women's team. We were thrilled Usain Bolt won again, but we were inspired by gentle David Rudisha, who won the 800 meters in world record time. The trifecta of golds in forty-five minutes for the UK was moving--and hearing ten thousands of people sing "God Save the Queen" at the top of their lungs was tear-inducing. So beautiful.

And how about that Allyson Felix getting her gold in the 200 meters? You go, girl! And those relay finals were spec-tac-u-lar. The beach volleyball win by May-Treanor and Walsh was awesome; here they come, Rio?! We watched most of the match between Murray and Federer, and that was a tennis final to remember! Awesome Murray win! (Okay, yeah... we cried during that medal ceremony, too.) The US women's soccer team pulled it out again, as did the men's basketball team in a relatively close final with Spain. And David Boudia squeaking out a gold on the men's platform diving? WOW. All these and many more really impressed us.

And no, we didn't forget her. Yeah, HER. Missy Franklin, the sparkly, smiley teenage swimming phenom, wins our family gold for most bright, positive, sportsmanship-like behavior, and a girl whose attitude we hope can inspire our boys and our little C (who, literally as I typed this, pulled herself up to a standing position! At eight months! Inspired already!). Missy, we hope we get to watch you swim--and smile--for many more Olympics.

Missy, you gave whole new meaning to "in its depth what treasures!"

P.S. Our silver goes to Bob Costas, whose prose and poise always impress us. Watching him interview Missy Franklin was one of our favorite parts of these Olympic Games.

P.P.S. And we've got a tie for bronze--Kayla Harrison, who is a fighter in the best sense of the word, who won the first US women's medal (and gold at that!) in judo; and in the spirit of British excellence, Mohamed Farah, the 5000 and 10,000 meter winner, who Papa can't talk about without getting emotional. Truly amazing.

Innovate, Motivate, Impact, Yada, Yada, Yada

I generally enjoy tutoring college writers. I can deal with the early hours, the sometime monotony of assignments, even the predictable grammatical errors. But what makes me crazy is the downright predictability--nay, the inevitability--of students in certain professional fields to fall hook, line, and recycled terminology for the allure of buzzwords. For instance, I just read an analysis by a business student that purportedly showed how a particular business utilizes innovation. Except the entire ten pages said nothing. Literally nothing. And worse than reading ten pages of nothing is reading them at six a.m. and knowing some poor shlub is actually forking over hard-earned money (or going into ridiculous amounts of debt) to write such meaningless pulp. I could rant about how colleges, not-for-profit but especially for-profit institutions, take advantage of unprepared students by admitting them, taking their money, and sending them into the world with a piece of paper but no more skills to attain and retain gainful employment than I could send my four-year-old into a realtor to successfully discuss home inspectors as a negotiation detail, but I'll pass on that. I could rant about how fields of study in institutions of higher education ("higher"! Hahahahahahahaha!) like business become so encumbered with generic language that students can master the code but can't actually say anything meaningful whatsoever. Please note that I'm not anti-business; I'm anti-jargon.

But there's hope. When I googled "weasel words," this gloriously refreshing site came up, with the following descriptor on its homepage: "This site is for people who have silently wept into a crumpled copy of their company's mission statement, for teachers who want to work in classrooms and not customer service points, and for all those who have been underpinned by an innovative, value adding, creative, sustainable, diverse and optimised framework."

Thank you, Don Watson, for saving my sanity this morning. 

 

In Its Depths What Treasures, Part I

Watching the Olympics take place in London and vicinity has been a real joy for Papa and I. When the Williams trumpet chorus begins as glorious vistas emerge of rolling, brilliant green hillsides with ancient ruins; of sailboat-dotted waves nestled close to seaside villages; of regal Buckingham Palace and stately Big Ben; even of drizzles misting the "wilderness of steeples peeping," as Lord Byron put it; all these images make us happily nostalgic for our brief time, as they say, across the pond.

A little sweet, romantic history: ten years ago this fall, Papa and I met in Cambridge (England, for those of you who weren't reading closely above) while we both studied abroad. Papa and I visited London separately during our time there, but we also went to the grand old city together one lovely Saturday. We took an early-morning bus through the ubiquitous drizzle, which dropped us off in the shadow of Big Ben. We wandered through Westminster Abbey, saw My Fair Lady at the Theatre Royal on Drury Lane, popped into the National Gallery, and ate some below-average steak and potatoes at a Trafalgar Square steakhouse before heading back north that evening.  (Side story to our little history: In a miracle of circumstance and twin intuition, my sister--studying in London for the semester--found us in a ticket queue. She spotted the back of my head as she peeked into the kiosk and pulled on my purse to get my attention. I thought I was being mugged, and then I nearly went into cardiac arrest when I saw it was her. I hadn't been able to reach her by landline phone that morning, but she remembered that we might go to a show during our visit, and the stars aligned. Okay, so maybe it wasn't completely circumstance. But hey--this was before we owned cell phones, before we had "smart" anything and had to figure out maps, times, and rendezvous all beforehand and hope nobody got lost or delayed. So it was pretty cool that Mil found us, and we had a nice picnic lunch all together. Um, guess that wasn't so much a side story as a big chunk of it.)

Anyway, we loved our time in England, and the Olympics has given us a chance to vicariously enjoy London's treasures again. As we watched the women's marathon twisting and turning through the city, pointing out places we had been and picturesque sights we never witnessed firsthand, P piped up, "I want to go to London." We will go there someday, God willing, little man!

Little Michaelangelo

Finding the chalk after a dip in the backyard pool, S showed a little artistic flair (and some photogenic moments).

"Can I see the picture, Mommy?"

Amilia Getting Married

Last weekend, my "baby" twin sister--hey, forty-five seconds of seniority counts big!--got married to Chris, a quiet, laid-back, witty man who is a definite kindred spirit to Amilia. We all like him, and it was wonderful to meet his awesome family and share their joy as our loved ones were united in Christ!

Mil and Chris at the Rehearsal Dinner - they already look happy!

Amid some down time, including P's first major league baseball game with Papa--the Cards at home, beating the Dodgers--we had a great experience with extended family and friends, eating, visiting, laughing, and (not surprisingly) crying. And per usual, we got a handful of pictures, but I'll post (or at the very least, link) more later because our small repertoire doesn't nearly do the weekend justice.

What do you get when you take good food...

...good company (AND good coffee!)...

...and a little saintliness? A great family weekend, that's what.

It was a lovely time, one that we will remember always. To best articulate my feelings about the whole gala event, read my matron of honor speech. You'll have to imagine the laughter and the tears yourselves, though.

Here comes the bride!

I love you, Mil! Vivid flowers, blue skies, sparkly dresses, chocolate-chip cookies, men even better than Gene Kelly (hey, his name is a requirement here!), and forever two made for each other.

***

Great afternoon everyone! It’s wonderful to have so many family and friends here—from near and from far!—to celebrate Chris and Amilia’s wedding today. As they head into their future life together, I’d like to especially thank you, Mil, for asking me to be your matron of honor. I’m so pleased to “stand up” next to you as you marry the man you love. AND I’m thrilled to have the opportunity to roast you today.

(Pause)

What? What, Jon? Oh, I’m sorry. I meant toast. Yeah, toast. 

Sisters on a big day.

In thinking about what I wanted to say on this festive occasion, I spent a lot of time thinking about dresses. Yes, Mil, DRESSES. You know—the long, trippy, frilly frocks you spent the first decade of your life detesting. From our earliest days, you clearly expressed an aversion to anything remotely smelling of femininity. When we’d play house, Charles would be the dad, I’d be the mom, and Amilia would be the boy. Yes, the boy. While I’d be running for lace! Sequins! Bows!, you’d be begging to wear t-shirts and pants…AGAIN. Overall, you put up a pretty good fight whenever you had to wear girly-looking attire.  

And speaking of a good fight, you put up pretty good ones generally whenever you were upset. At Christmas, we’d get these little report cards from Santa, and inevitably Charles would be told not to aggravate (or “avregate”), I’d be told not to be so bossy (shocking, I know!), and you, Mil, would be told not to “pitch fits.” You were—and still are—an opinionated person, and when you got your mind set on something, you’d passionately fight for it. (Remember at the Mock U.N. when you got a little carried away, and the moderator recognized you by saying, “The chair now recognizes the hysterical delegate from Israel?”) But I admit, sometimes we got a little too much fun out of ticking you off on purpose—hoarding toys or books that you wanted, for instance. Of course, that all ended YEARS ago. We wouldn’t DREAM of teasing you or egging you on now that we’re mature adults. :)

A-MAZ-ING flowers!

You used to get especially incensed when we’d tell you what kind of guy you’d eventually marry. You beautifully set up years of torment by insisting, at the ripe old age of twelve, that you’d never get married. And it wasn’t enough to declare it with all the authority you could muster as a sixth-grader. You had to go on shake on it with Dad, who bet you ten dollars that you were wrong. (And by the way, Dad, you owe me five bucks after the dollar dance for that shout-out. :))

Nope, you had no idea what I was going to say just a few hours later. So enjoy the girl-glam!

So needless to say, Mil, you’ve changed a bit from the little girl who disliked dresses and swore off marriage. Here you are, looking lovely as you don a gorgeous dress to marry Chris. And you’ve not only bridged your aversions to frocks and matrimony; you’ve actually learned that dresses can be fun and marriage is a gift, a wonderful gift.

You’ve learned that change can be hard (or at the very least fought tooth and nail), but thank goodness—as days like today remind us—it can also be awesome (and a reason for a little teasing, for old time’s sake)! 

Mil, though sometimes I want to "wrang your neck" (and I know, the feeling’s mutual!), it’s a privilege and a joy to be your sister, and I’m so happy for you. (And Chris, the same goes for you, too. :)) So, in celebration with our libations, let us all raise our glasses—to happy change and a lifetime of joy for Amilia and Chris! 


***

Our family. Before messiness descended. Good thing Papa's got strong arms!

C and our great friend, "Aunt" Marianne, who came and was beyond awesome to take care of our little ones--and us--so we could enjoy the weekend.

Kristi, Jamie, and Jonathan - some other terrific people we visited with!