Divorced, Beheaded, Died; Divorced, Beheaded, Survived.

 

 

Wait a minute, that's how you're supposed to remember the fates of the six wives of Henry the Eighth, King of England. He divorced Catherine of Aragon, he beheaded Anne Boleyn, Jane Seymour -- not the actress -- died, he divorced Anne of Cleves, he beheaded Catherine Howard, and Catherine Parr outlived him. I just couldn't think of an acceptable, catchy way to recite the details or call attention to the details [read: I haven't considered one] of the last, oh, nine books I've read. But hey, it's no big deal; besides, I want to make the details of the last few days in my life much more interesting, and I believe they are.

Concrete: The Human Dilemma
Forever Fifty and Other Negotiations
Skeleton Key
I Am Number Four
The Wake
Alexander Who's Not (Do you hear me? I mean it!) Going to Move
Golden Treasury of the Familiar
The Last Unicorn
Mufaro's Beautiful Daughters
Good Always Wins: Kids' Edition
MIND MGMT: The Manager
Dreadstar
The Wife and Work of Wassily Kandinsky

So I can't count; that's THIRTEEN books I've read since the last ... from paging through my journal, looks like the twentieth of January since I last posted here about something I read. Not because I'm actually that rushed, I think, but because I'm needing to recognize that I have limits on my time and deeds in this early fifth decade of my life (I'm forty-three) and I need to not let the trivial things get in my way. Sometimes I'm ashamed of myself that I have -- not that I can't relax (but this was a big issue when I was younger) but that I can't relax all the time. In a family of my own, married and with children as I am, there are certain people who look up to me whether I want them to or not!

So here I go: Friday (February 6) night after work I got to hear about the kids and their celebrations of their hundredth day of school; Jeffrey had to pack together one hundred Chex (chexes?) cereal in a bag and bring it to school for his class, and Sarah was more than happy to help him with that. When the kids want to, they really do get along well. There are just moments like yesterday I question where the younglings will reach adulthood without pounding the snot out of each other or freaking because Mom or Dad are not dealing ... as well as we should with both our strong-willed children. (Keep in mind the Mini and Nook are the TVs of their day, David.)

Sunday at church was especially busy. Besides teaching Sunday school and having seven fifth graders -- exactly the number Dalyce and I needed for the play we're doing on the conversion of Saul -- in class, this was also the Sunday where the kindergarten through fifth graders sang songs Nadine the choir director had been working with them on, also the day of our annual Sunday School Carnival which included lunch and the silent auction (by the way, Bill and Betty who have been in charge of assembling all the items for that since the turn of the century are looking at stepping down in a few years; I understand, and I wonder if I should apply).

Saturday I had Breakfast with the Boys and then eight hours at Marketplace to put in, and I came home to Sarah and Martha both having made major rearrangements to our kitchen and expressing my silent astonishment at how alike they now look -- she wouldn't let me take a photo, sorry. And Martha's probably right, I do take too many. Sunday we came home from church and got started on reading four chapters in Frindle, the children's book all the elementary grades in Minot are reading in and answering questions and doing activities for. Monday night was spaghetti night, and it was DELICIOUS!

As my dad would say, if you go away hungry it's your own fault!

David