Remember, Remember ... What The Heck Am I Supposed To Remember?

WORD COUNT: 6,054

Today in the United Kingdom it is Guy Fawkes Day. That name may jog memories outside that country of Alan Moore's graphic novel V for Vendetta (a guy wearing a Guy Fawkes mask and the celebration on November 5 itself are major plot points) but at first glance it almost seems equivalent to the Benedict Arnold Day we don't have in the USA! But then I heard on the radio that the commensurate celebrations with fireworks and burning Guy Fawkes in effigy is actually a day of public thanksgiving in the UK, I figure thanking God most of all for the foiling of an attempt to blow up Parliament, the British seat of government. And to think he was only guarding the explosives!

One imagines (and maybe shudders) at the thought of Mr. Fawkes being singled out among the twelve implicated in the Gunpowder Plot. Oh, the others got executed too, for regicide has most always been frowned upon as a way to change your country's leadership -- obstruction is much better. Feel free to look up more on Guy Fawkes Day yourselves; I don't want to stay here long as I need to do major catch-up on my November NaNo novel. And for more about THAT, feel free to come back here Friday where I answer a few questions about it. But don't forget Thursday; the only reason I moved my devotional Ensign from Friday was to fulfill the promise I made to a friend to post an "interview" about my latest attempt at literature ... it's worth it, trust me.

(So's Thursday -- if you've read this far, I will tell you my working title for Ensign. "Students Transcending Homophobia".) And now a brief summary of my life from leaving work to getting here today. I met Jeffrey at his Cub Scout pack leader's house after work, where he and the other scouts were learning how to make fires outdoors -- way more than rubbing two sticks together -- and assembling their own wooden paddleboats. We'll have to finish his at home, and I may have to invest in a few tools for him. Tasted my first hot apple cider of the season made by the pack leader's wife; good, but needed spice. This morning we got the kids up even earlier than usual, but not as early as me as it 'twas my turn to deliver our now-fifty copies of the Minot Daily News.

This morning, my wife Martha, her mom Sharon, and I met at Longfellow for our scheduled parent-teacher conferences with Sarah and Jeffrey's teachers Mrs. Tillema and Mrs. Braasch. And we heard quite good things about them ... so good in fact, we wonder where these quiet, do what they're told kids ARE when they are home with us! (Oh it isn't that bad, even though there are moments I wonder about the sawdust collecting between their ears ... it is wrong of me to say some days when I drive them to school -- it's always me driving the kids to school because of Martha's weekly work schedule, she picks them up -- their biggest accomplishment is getting there still alive with all their faculties!)

And that's all I have to say about that, David