60 x 2 is terrific

The week was bracketed by two b.d. parties. The first was from my church TLC group, who came over Monday night as a surprise with an ice cream cake and lots of love. Their gift to me, besides their love, was a beautiful etched crystal vase that acknolwedged the broken one I blogged about a bit ago. Then last night, on the real b.d., the Settergren family (though missing J and E, whose presence would have made it perfect, and my dad) planned a "surprise" party with the whole gang, simple decorations and easy but delicious meal, a cake that C and K ordered from a local bakery, and simple but so lovely gifts of journals, candles, biscotti....Happy chaos created by eight children under the age of six reigned, but even so we managed some great conversation. What better way to begin a new decade? Today we went to R&T's super PCA church, including a hymn sing of ancient and very new hymns, and a soup supper. Tomorrow is the Cornado beach and then we return home, three very tired but happy travelers.

9:7 at the SDZ=Just About Right

Here we are in San Diego, a place that has little appeal to me (being in CA, that strange land, as it is) except that it is home to many people we love. However, it has put on its best face, weather perfect, vegetation lush and green (when I expected brown given that it is wildfire season), altogether appealing except for the dreadful traffic on I 15. The place is growing on me since I don't have to drive here or buy a house.

On the docket yesterday was an evening trip to the zoo with all but three of the beloved people (my niece stayed home with her nursing baby and her husband was out of town for work). Hence the ratio: nine adults--two sets of parents, one set of grandparents, and the three Hamptons--to seven children all under the age of six. Two double strollers and a baby sling were the only assistance to add to adult hands and arms and backs--and always vigilant eyes. Anyhow, I recommend going to the SDZ, which of course is one of the best in the world, in the evening. R&T and their three sons go every Friday night with a church group of young families--how cool is that? The animals, however, were only the backdrop for the togetherness.

One highlight was the bug show at which the oldest of my brother and sister-in-law's grandkids volunteered to eat a bug. Nothing has ever fazed him :) but it sure fazed his grand-cuz, Karen, who had to leave the show rather than watch this dreadful event! Her dad took her out until it was over, but I have it captured on film for posterity. Evidently, this is not his first time eating a bug, a factor explained no doubt by his frequent visits to the zoo. The evening ended with a laser/acrobatic show, which was quite stunning although set in the unnecessary context of Gaia sending a Messenger to Mankind to urge us to seek interdependence with the natural world so as to save the disappearing species. They could have sent the same message wtihout the New Age theology or even set into Creation Care, but of course, that did not happen. I doubt that even the ever-alert (and oldest cousin) bug eater noticed the theology becaue the acrobatics and lights were so spectacular, but I am sure his parents will use the occasion as a teachable moment. This is the first time they had stayed for the show because B-E's younger brother has been afraid of other kinds of loud shows despite his own vigorous curiosity.

On the docket for today is a golf game for the two brothers-in-law and a trip to Seaport Village for the two sisters-in-law plus Karen (who, by the way, was in her element with all those children last night though they tuckered her out :)). Yesterday K's dad took her off on a little jaunt so I could have a partial day off, and so Deb and I went to IKEA (my first trip :)). Saturday is a blank to be filled in though we will move to R&T's house and go to church with them Sunday. Monday is our scheduled day at the beach with some subset of the kids. Yes, I'd say Just About Right.

Have Daughters, Will Move (Them)

The cat's out of the bag. The good news we were waiting for has materialized. We will be moving Karen to another group home where she can have a private room and a smaller number of people (six women, six bedrooms, six half baths, three showers). Her case manager told us this is the nicest group home she knows in the area--run by a CRC church. This has been in the works for about three weeks, but Karen did not know until yesterday and we had to survive two interviews. One was informal, when I took her to see the place last night (her grandpa had already seen it and was thrilled!) and we stayed for coffee/cookies/conversation with the housemother and residents. That went splendidly and I didn't think the housemother would have let it go on for an hour and a half if she thought it weren't going to materialize because as every minute passed, Karen had her heart set on it more and more. Then tonight we had a formal "intake" interview together (Chuck being in TN giving two talks at the summer math meetings...the first today, I understand, went well). When that ended, they said, "We'll let you know tomorrow," and I said, "But I have to move her tomorrow if she is going to be able to move," so they said, "Well then, in an hour after our other interview." That put knots in my stomach and doubt in my heart. I'm so glad we didn't know beforehand. The hour stretched out and out and out and just as I was going to take K back to her current home without knowing so she could go to bed, the phone rang with the good news. Lots of details to iron out, but we can move her (unofficially) tomorrow and officially after our vacation.

So why the title? Last summer we moved Ellen from Cleveland to Wooster to Chapel Hill and helped J move to Canonsburg from State College when her car died on her moving day. This summer we moved J from Canonsburg to Washington and now Karen from G.R. to Grandville. Next summer, Ellen will move to ???? Have daughters, will move (them). Thank you, Lord.

Pot of Gold at the End of the Rainbow

In preparation for the Baby Hugging Tour, Part II coming up next week, we hosted six children under five years and their three parents (one dad was unfortunately away at work) yesterday morning. Actually, we hosted them because we had a chance to visit with another "honorary," our former IV staff member and his wife and three daughters who now minister in Boston, and so invited along one of his former students who now lives here in Wooster and her three sons. I rather expected happy chaos punctuated with unhappiness, but we brought up Karen's Rubbermaid tubs of playmobiles (a lifetime collection and still growing) and instead had happy mess. (I still haven't sorted the toys into their proper tubs to return to their storage spaces--it's on today's "to do" list.) The four older ones just played, so engrossed that two of them didn't even come into the kitchen for a snack. The one year old turned the box fan off and on for two hours (no chance of hurt fingers with this fan) and the baby observed it all. The parents actually got to visit meaningfully. That's when I relabeled the playmobiles: pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. What a treasure! I hesitated to tell K last night during our phone call, knowing that she would mourn the loss of a chance to visit with both sets of children (the gals she only sees very, very occasionally but the boys she can see whenever she is home). However, she was fine and said she was glad to share her toys. Thanks, Karen! It's good to anticipate the California leg of our Baby (and their big brothers and sisters) Hugging Tour with you--Lucas, Miriam, Judah, Callum, Erika, Mason, Marco, and Robert, here we come!

A Shattered Treasure

Today, while I was making fresh bouquets of flowers (and weeds--as Chuck calls the Queen Anne's Lace that I love to pick from along the side of the college golf course), I broke the etched crystal vase I had bought for my mother in Scotland during my 1966 trip with my grandma and Aunt Ruth. I wasn't the easiest daughter to mother that year (as my dad and oldest brother may remember) and she had stuck with me through this tough time. The gift of the trip itself is witness to that. In any case, I have always loved this beautiful vase with its thistle motif, and I had asked to bring it home with me after her death two years ago. I am not sure what happened, as if often the case in accidents, but somehow my flower cutters brushed up against it, and it broke on the counter as it fell.

I have other beloved vases--two tiny ones in which I put miniature arrangements that she had given me, an intricately painted fine-china vase Jenny brought to me from her trip to Hungary with the Blue Lake band in 1990, a Bavarian crystal stem vase Ellen brought from one of her many European trips, another pitcher/vase with an unusual bird motif painted on it (but which is cracked because I dropped it after bringing it home from a dear friend's house...but I can put a plastic glass inside to hold the water and flowers), an Italian vase we gave Karen but keep here, a copper Bosnian vase, one Julie gave me from a local potter, and a large country-style chipped pitcher/vase that was Chuck's mom's in which I keep dried hydrangeas. I do love all my vases and feel that they are better used than sitting safely in a cupboard. But as you can see, they are valuable not only for their own beauty but for their giver or occasion of receipt. Now I won't have this immediate visual reminder of my mom (unless I can find someone to sand off the shards and leave me with the intact base--any suggestions?).

And so I cried a bit and read Ps.16, which I had quoted at her memorial service. "Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup; you have made my lot secure. The boundary lines have falled for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance."

"Chantilly Lace"

That oldy-but-goody was ringing in my ears as I left Curves this morning. I have reached one summer goal: a decent (I won't judge them as "good" yet) draft of three chapters of the potential book. My admiration for Wooster's seniors who grind out an I.S. has jumped measurably. Sixty-five hard won pages--that's only averaging a page a day! Now for two intensive days I can turn my attention to FYS preparation, including annotating and taking reading journal notes on the student summer reading, "Reading Lolita in Tehran." (I've read it twice, but must take these notes. The author is coming to town in Sept. and all the incoming students must write their first paper on the book.) Before a quick, unexpected but potentially happy trip to G.R. at mid-week, I have this work to do, some unexpected guests (of the honorary kids variety), and just getting ready for our week in CA. I'll bring Karen back with me when I return from G.R. but I doubt I'll have that oldy CD playing in the car.