Things Kara has said recently

“Kara,” said Lynn-nore, “why aren’t you asleep yet?”
“Because you turned on the light!”

“I want to invite you to my tea party,” said Kara, “It’s at 8/7 central.”

“Daddy,” she says to me last night (before the light comment), “close your eyes.”
I close my eyes and she sticks her hand under my nose.
“Ugh, I smell bum–have you been sticking your hand in your bum?!”
Kara dissolves into rolling giggles, managing to blurt out, “yes!”
(Needless to say after I stopped laughing her hands had a good washing.)

And, since we’re being a little gross, a few days ago, Kara and Lynn-nore were discussing the merits of eating corn despite the fact that Kara threw up corn when she had that stomach bug over Christmas. Lynn-nore said, “Honey, just because you threw up some of your corn doesn't mean you should never eat it again--you really like corn" to which Kara replied, "SOME of the corn?! Mama, I threw up ALL of my corn!!"

Melanin do-again

A Rejoinder. In a past post, I reported that my now-boss appeared "pasty." Such is not the case. Instead, he has slowly and progressively tanned until now he is become a handsome African-American man.

In other news, Kara wants to take Ballet. Caleb has learned to make a house by planting his feet/hands on the floor and elevating his bum. Lynn-nore is nearly done plowing through all the boxes; the place is starting to feel like home. And, after weeks of trying to lose weight, and an initial 5 lbs drop, I discovered this morning a net loss of zero. At least I learned this morning that I'll be editing Brian McClaren's next book.

Apoclalyptic country drop-in or ordo Finanjo

It takes a lot of work to move into a new place. Outside of the simple act of physically hauling all of your stuff, loading and unloading it, there is the evaluation of it all. Here is a case in point. When L. and I were first married, she decorated in “mild country” with hearts, apples and bears. Over time, most of this has been sent back to the shadows from which it came, but some pieces avoided the axe—until now. Now, as we open boxes and sift their contents, there is a reckoning. This is the Great and Terrible Day for every frame, every candle holder, every ounce of bric-a-brac and nostalgia from little plastic cards with inspirational messages to a miniature butter churn.

The new world (ordo novum) is somewhat like the old one, sage and burgundy do appear, but now in deeper, wine-colors. There is a certain commonality; both my Mother- and Sister-in-Law have picked up on the move to Napa in kitchen décor. You get the feeling of great, subterranean tides at work, such as those which design men’s ties. Gone are solid colors in favor of late-80’s geometric shazam. Pleats, however, will forever fatten the male midriff unless something truly messianic is done to stop it.

The in-laws have taken to stopping by. This is totally new. L. stopped by just last week, and everyone got a kick out of it. Continents or oceans have always separated everyone from each other; stopping by is like the miracle of train travel to 18th century humanity. I would probably stop by, too, if I had grandkids so close by. The thinking is as follows: “I could be here in my home folding laundry that only I and my wife/husband care about (and then only tacitly), or I could be playing with my grandchild.”

Caleb can sit up now. He can also execute a sophisticated combination of rolls and lunges, scoots and twists to reach any geographic location he desires. When he gets himself stuck under the couch, he cries until someone pulls him out. And, occasionally, he barfs for no reason. He did this yesterday, during the first “stop by” by afore-said in-laws.

Kara has run into her first taste of ordinary school life. Despite the “Christian school” label, her Kindergarten is showing its spots. One little girl, I’ll just call her Pushy Petunia, tries to run the show. If I understand Kara’s puzzle-like descriptions, this girl tells Kara what to do and excludes her from play. Mentally, I’ve given Pushy the forearms of a merchant marine along with sweaty, black body hair. She’s probably a sweet-looking little girl whose parents want her to reflect good values. And then there’s the teaching response. When L. brings this to the teacher’s attention, Mrs. Find-a-New-Job (Finanjo) makes it fairly plain that Kara’s problems are Kara’s fault. This kind of attitude reminds me of, say, the quality experiences I had in Tennessee’s public schools. Never mind the woman that ran the car inspection station, a 2nd year transplant from Cape Cod, who begged me not to send Kara to public schools here, “because they are years behind Massachusetts schools.” Well, Maam, when it comes to Christian love at Christian schools, I have to say I agree. The love and care that Beacon (Christian Academy) showed for every child is totally absent from the remarks made by Mrs. Finanjo, or the attitude allowed to fester in Pushy Petunia.

Good Wednesday

Since it has been forever since I blogged anything on this board, I have been getting desperate. Needing to come up with something quick, I hit on the idea of randomly keeping track of what I did during one workday. Here goes.

8:00 a.m. My coat made a clanking noise getting out of the truck. I discovered a left over lunch spoon in a pocket. Yellow stuff has dried on it. I don’t have anything to eat with today. I’m going to use it (after a little scrubbing.)

8:49 a.m. Presently, my computer is the platform for an Adobe Acrobat war between Acrobat 5.0 and 7.05. Neither of them wants to install completely, so that .pdf files are automatically assigned to them. Well, 5.0 is a little more aggressive in this respect. Both reinstall every time I use them.

9:15 a.m. Finished readying the troops for the reception and sending-to-proof for a long overdue manuscript. The similarities between being an editor and playing dodge ball didn’t occur to me until just now. Watching various employees sign on to AIM (AOL’s instant messenger client, which many of us use as a form of inter-cubal communication.), and sending “Good Mornings” because I can.

9:20 a.m. Noticed the emissions report for my truck. I’d stuck it in my pocket to leave in the glove box. Funny that a state with more smokers per capita than I’ve seen in over a decade (most of them women) is so interested in emissions testing.

10:20 a.m. Dad called & we have a great discussion about influence and mission in the workplace. I’d mentioned the book Lead Like Jesus, and picked up a copy from our display shelves on the way to the production meeting. I also resolved to finish Barna’s Revolution and blog about it as soon as possible.

11:15 a.m. The administrator of type reading gave me some pointers on how to read the production schedule – quite helpful! Then we commiserated on the difficulties of converting data into XML.

11:45 a.m. Reading blog comments on George Barna’s silly little book. More a holiness tract than a legitimate sociological investigation, and with less scriptural argumentation!

12:35 p.m. Eating lunch at my desk due to the realization that I have three manuscripts to read in the next five days. Broccoli and pork tenderloins in a teriyaki sauce. (I found plastic utensils.)

12:58 p.m. Scribbling a hasty to-do on the back of a stray piece of paper while sorting out my Outlook tasks. I task everything!

2:00 p.m. Editing a foreword to a manuscript. I’ve spent an hour checking silly things like whether to capitalize “rock” as in rock music, and verifying the rules for placing commas after introductory phrases. Wishing I had a few days to do an intensive seminar on the Chicago Manual of Style.

2:49 p.m. A friend of mine and I stop to consider patience as the outcome of submission to the provident care of God. A refreshing thought given the list of to-do’s.

3:28 p.m. I just remembered that my oil pressure gauge was dangerously low this morning. Speed demands I reduce my usual standards, so I Yahoo yellow pages a Jiffy Lube and give them a call. I have plenty of manuscripts to read. Maybe, as L. said to me once, they will give me a flower. (It’s an inside joke.)

3: 45 p.m. Deleting Adobe 5.0.

3:53 p.m. Wrote a “thank you” to some friends for a gift which proves quite useful here on the job.

4:01 p.m. Updated the Outlook tasks list to reflect progress & add deadlines on new projects. Began reading a manuscript per an acquisition editor’s request for a “theological read.”

4:07 p.m. L. calls, tired and out of it, too much unpacking too many days in a row. I’d be tired, too. I feel sympathetic and tell her so.

4:10 p.m. I leave to get the truck’s oil changed. The truck alarm is set off during the process two times. I try and get through some of the opening remarks in February’s First Things and pay attention to overhead CNN commentary on the State of Union address at the same time. A guy named Alan Mittleman writes: “Paul and his theological descendants describe a Judaism that Jews cannot recognize.” Well, the temple and its sacrifices were still standing when Paul was alive, so that makes sense. Jamnia was still a long time coming.

5: 15 p.m. I make it home at seemingly the speed of light. The President was at the Opry, and they shut down Briley Parkway so that must have redirected much of the traffic that keeps me sitting between 5 and 6 p.m. Wouldn’t you know, I left that emissions report at the office.