Crows in Heat and a Trip to the Farm
Before moving to Vancouver, I had no fear of crows. Since arriving, I’ve learned to be suspicious of the little devils – especially in spring. Last week, Simone and I crossed two crows in the throws and got swooped multiple times. Fortunately, the Phil & Ted’s canopy, which advertises that it will protect your child from the paparazzi flash, also fends off swooping crows. Unfortunately, there is only room for one. So, we ran, grocery sacks swinging wildly, to the end of the block trying to escape the crows' feet grazing my head. As I took the corner, the Phil & Ted's on two wheels, an old lady (and I’m reserving a special post for old ladies) happened around the corner. Unfazed by the wild in my eyes, she exclaimed “Isn’t she sweet”, requiring me to stop, then shook her head in disapproval as she asked “where is her hat?” Rather than explain the pull-the-hat-off-your-head-game, I smiled the I’m-just-a-dumb-dad smile and chose to not warn her about the crow gauntlet in her near future. As I caught my breath and whispered a thank you for my life, we turned to hear the first “CAW!” and see an old lady run.
The procreation instincts of crows aside, we chose to celebrate the arrival of spring by visiting Maplewood Farms.
We practiced mooing and talked about the other source of milk.
We got close, but not too close, to chickens.
We tried to pick the rabbit up by its ears.
We avoided being trampled by baby goats.
We met the lost billy goat gruff.
What unsolicited child rearing advice have you gotten from old ladies?
Celebrating a Year
Simone celebrated her first birthday over the weekend. I’m not one to wax nostalgic. I read a high school friend’s Facebook status where she expressed her disbelief in her daughter’s passage to high school. I calculated my own age when Simone would enter high school – then wished I hadn’t.
We kept celebrations subdued. Grandma and Grandpa Kabler celebrated over webcam, and Grandpa John, Uncle Sol, Aunt Kim, Aunt Brittany, Aunt Emily and Cousin Brooklynne visited. Simone received new toys that make noise. I’m suspicious of mischievous intent.
QOTD: Have you given a toy with mischievous intent? What toy was it? I need ideas for revenge.
Mahalo Nui Loa Hawaii
Vancouver in July is to perfection as Oahu in February is to, well, perfection. A free vacation from eight years of saved points is icing! Here's hoping this post finds you "happy, healthy and mostly defrosted."
Between eating handfuls of sand, Simone managed a few bites of shaved ice.
A lonely surfboard.
After swim lessons.
Visiting a ship like Great Grandpa’s.
Deep Hemorrhagic Infarcts
In my last post, Favorite Things, one of the comments mentioned nap time, and I responded, claiming it as well. Prior to mid-October, Zonnalie and I were stay at home parents. We spent nearly 11 weeks together as a family. Although saddened by Zonnalie’s return to work, the change in schedule allowed me to claim nap time as my own. I spend much of that time reading. This past week, I reread one of my favorite passages from E.B. White's essay "Death of a Pig". The comedic carnival starring a pig, a dachshund and Elwyn Brooks leaves me laughing. I realize by quoting below, I break the 300 word rule but for those who pause to read, enjoy.
I discovered, though, that once having given a pig an enema there is no turning back, no chance of resuming one of life's more stereotyped roles. The pig's lot and mine were inextricably bound now, as though the rubber tube were the silver cord. From then until the time of his death I held the pig steadily in the bowl of my mind; the task of trying to deliver him from his misery became a strong obsession. His suffering soon became the embodiment of all earthly wretchedness. Along toward the end of the afternoon, defeated in physicking, I phoned the veterinary twenty miles away and placed the case formally in his hands. He was full of questions, and when I casually mentioned the dark spots on the pig's back, his voice changed its tone.
"I don't want to scare you," he said, "but when there are spots, erysipelas has to be considered."
Together we considered erysipelas, with frequent interruptions from the telephone operator, who wasn't sure the connection had been established. "If a pig has erysipolas can he give it to a person?" I asked.
"Yes, he can," replied the vet.
"Have they answered?" asked the operator.
"Yes, they have," I said. Then I addressed the vet again. "You better come over here and examine this pig right away."
"I can't come myself," said the vet, "but McDonald can come this evening if that's all right. Mac knows more about pigs than I do anyway. You needn't worry too much about the spots. To indicate erysipelas they would have to be deep hemorrhagic infarcts."
"Deep hemorrhagic what?" I asked.
"Infarcts," said the vet.
"Have they answered?" asked the operator.
"Well," I said, "I don't know what you'd call these spots, except they're about the size of a housefly. If the pig has erysipelas I guess I have it, too, by this time, because we've been very close lately."
"McDonald will be over," said the vet.
I hung up. My throat felt dry and I went to the cupboard and got a bottle of whiskey. Deep hemorrhagic infarcts - the phrase began fastening its hooks in my head. I had assumed that there could be nothing much wrong with a pig during the months it was being groomed for murder; my confidence in the essential health and endurance of pigs had been strong and deep, particularly in the health of pigs that belonged to me and that were part of my proud scheme. The awakening had been violent and I minded it all the more because I knew that what could be true of my pig could be true also of the rest of my tidy world. I tried to put this distasteful idea from me, but it kept recurring. I took a short drink of the whiskey and then, although I wanted to go down to the yard and look for fresh signs, I was scared to. I was certain I had erysipelas.
QOTD: What is a favorite passage that comes to mind? Include a link.
Favorite Things
On childhood summer treks from Kansas to Wyoming, my grandmother would remember as we crossed the Kansas-Nebraska line that her sister always commented “they build squatty windmills in Nebraska.” As a matter of course, my grandmother would take ownership of the statement and exclaim multiple times “there’s another squatty windmill!” as we followed the Platte to the Rockies.
I don’t know the mechanics of windmills or why they happen to be anecdotally taller in Kansas (or more squat in Nebraska). Nor do I know why my great aunt found the short stature of windmills in Nebraska amusing. I can assume that my grandmother found joy in being able to remember her sister’s amusement at squatty Nebraska windmills - the same way I now fondly remember my grandmother’s bemusement at her sister’s observation.
Favorite things come in all sizes:
1. Babies in mittens
2. Pumpernickel bread
3. Snowflakes on palm trees
4. Brooklyn on Sundays
5. Age spots on hands
6. Little ditties “‘bout Jack and Diane”
On a recent Saturday (or Tuesday or Friday), I captured two of them on camera.
QOTD: What are some of your favorite things?
Leaves and Seashells
We walk once or twice a day. Typically, we cross the street, follow the seawall to English Bay, stop for vitamin D, continue to Ten Thousand Villages, sample a square of free trade chocolate, plunder the dollar produce bags and return home. If lucky, we run into Asha, an 89 year-old babushka who walks to the Second Beach Pool “twice a day for [her] health” or listen to a street musician at English Bay.
Earlier this week, light, leaves and weather coordinated their schedule for perfect photo conditions.
Simone ate the leaves
and tasted the seashells.
QOTD: When was the last time you tasted leaf or seashell?
Life above the Clouds
Having spent my childhood in small town Kansas, children owned the outdoors. Whether reenacting Danny Manning’s hoops performance against Oklahoma in the 1988 National Championship or playing flashlight tag until late in the evening, I, along with the other children of the neighborhood, ruled the outdoors. When mom or dad grew tired of us being inside, they told us where to go. Leaving your home did not require an elevator ride and votive holders knocked out the window did not become lethal projectiles.
I write this sitting 200 feet above street level. The outdoors that doesn’t require an elevator ride consists of two balconies totaling 120 square feet. I dread the night that the fire alarm sounds at 3:00AM.
Having wondered how my children will adjust to not having the outdoors a door swing away, I realize that I’m the one in need of adjustment. Life in a high rise will be normal for my children. Pushing a button will call a car that delivers them to the lobby where the outdoors awaits. Moreover, when weather conditions are right, they will get to be above the clouds without suffering a security checkpoint.
QOTD: What mainstay of your childhood experience is (was) not part of your children’s reality?
Empowering Womanhood
How do I encourage my daughter to be whomever she chooses? Sympathetic towards feminism, I hope my daughter will choose an egalitarian worldview that shuns the militant feminism of my mother’s generation. Similarly, I hope she will support women who push the bounds of female achievement until women are not judged by their sex but by the content of their character. All the same, I realize the irony in my words. Am I empowering womanhood by setting expectations that my daughter will espouse egalitarianism, choose feminism or agree that a woman deserves and should demand equality? What if she holds values contrary to those?
I answered a question with questions. In reconsidering my original question, perhaps it misses the mark. Rather than asking “how do I encourage my daughter to be whomever she chooses?” I should ask “how do I empower my daughter to become the woman God planned?” Cultural circumstances differ, but God remains constant. Teach a child to seek God despite his feminist sympathies or her demand for equality and God will prioritize the sympathies and demands according to their relevance to the kingdom.
I’ve struggled with such a situation. Our family participates in a Christian community that decided that women cannot hold a leadership office. My wife and I disagreed with the position, and we still disagree. Nonetheless, we prayed that God would place us where we can best participate in kingdom work. God answered that our place is with our current Christian community. We obeyed. Regardless of our egalitarian beliefs, God’s prioritization trumps our sympathies and demands. Perhaps, I can best empower my daughter to become the woman God planned by demonstrating the sacrifice of both sympathies and demands to God’s lordship.
QOTD: How have you empowered womanhood or how have you been empowered as a woman?
Estamos en México
We moved our household… temporarily. The city of Guanajuato with seventy-thousand residents provides a provincial European experience without a transatlantic flight. Its narrow cobblestone alleys and pedestrian friendly central provides endless exploration opportunities with an abundance of museums (sadly, more than our home city of Vancouver which is 10 times the size). To be fair, Guanajuato has had since 1554 to establish its institutions of culture. Having figured out the maze of alleys and streets, we rarely get lost. If we do, we happen upon another plaza and enjoy the view.
Visiting our home requires climbing 58 stairs. After an evening thunderstorm, we witnessed the street cleaner at work.
QOTD: What is your most memorable vacation? What made it memorable?
Reunions
En route to our month in Mexico, we stopped in Kansas to visit family and friends. Saturdays were made for relaxing, and Grandparents for Saturdays. Since Every Day is a Saturday, Simone relaxed and entertained the Grandparents on daily walks and swings.
Three great grandparents met Simone, and the great grandparents agreed to a four generation photo. As evidenced by the photo, Simone does not require coaxing to produce a smile for the camera.
We reunited with friends from University for a day to say hello to all the new arrivals. The adults were outnumbered making the time short on catch up and long on attending to the kids. We will enjoy calmer future reunions.
Friends from Vancouver who moved to Kansas took time to meet Simone, too.
QOTD: Think grandparents. What is a favorite memory with a grandparent (great grandparents included)?
- Posted from 0°0'N, 0°0'E
