Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)

Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.

This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.

Monday, March 14, 2005


(And Sunday, too, for that matter.)

Well, I can tell you this--before they all got out of the van Friday night when we got back home, there was an intensive session on activities that were NOT to be undertaken prior to dear Father waking up on Saturday morning; namely, no talking, laughing, cutting up, monkeyshines, shenanigans, whooping, hollering, running, screeching, loudness, and/or electronic versions thereof. Upon pain of a suitably Old Testament form of punishment.

Must have worked, because even Reba was quiet (relatively) for once. I got to sleep all the way until 8:30 more or less undisturbed, although I did hear a few creaky footfalls in the room. Reba was very proud of her efforts at maintaining peace--she noted that she had placed my clothes on the chair rather than opening up the armoire.

You would think such a task wouldn’t be that hard to do, but she has a rather bad habit of opening and closing ANYthing with much more force than is strictly required for its operation. The armoire has a very old latch with a hanging pendant, and if you try, it will open silently. If you try, when you close it, you can hold the latch back and let it shut. Quietly.

Usually, however, Reba (whom I must now stress that I love with unquenchable earnestness) pretty much yanks the handle like she’s trying to rip it off the door, which makes a loud metallic clattering and clanging sound, and then the closing of the door sounds about like a gunshot. She slams the latch bolt against the frame, which makes a loud hollow thonk, then presses it home as hard as she can to make it fully close, leading to a peace-shattering click-BANG as the door slams against the rest of the wood. I love her, though, and so all I can do when she does that is startle awake, and then try to go back to sleep.

BUT, Saturday, she just put my undies in the chair, and there was quiet. Aaaah.

Got up and went downstairs and saw that breakfast and study hall was underway--Reba had set up her books on the kitchen table to read for her class, and there were also various and sundry pajama-clad (but non-blogging) children around being very nice and polite. Ate, then got to work on finishing the clothes-folding chores, and then back upstairs to work on some stuff for church.

I had a stack of questionnaires to sift through and compile, and I had started off writing them down in longhand with the intent of later transcribing them. Too much wasted effort, so I got them and started typing in all the pertinent comments. And none of the impertinent ones. For some reason, a few people decided that a survey about the condition of the building would be the appropriate place to vent their feelings about various folks or happenings. I found myself muttering a couple of times that if they really feel that way, it makes you wonder why they bother going to church there in the first place. Anonymity brings that crabbiness out in some folks, I suppose.

While that was going on, I heard something outside so I raised the blinds and saw that Cat and Boy were outside enjoying the glorious bright springtime. The wind was starting to really pick up, but they were having a grand time throwing various balloon animals up in the air. I tapped on the glass a couple of times to get their attention, and it was quite comical to see them try to figure out where the noise was coming from. I finally raised the sash and they giggled and screamed and ran off and played some more. I left the blinds and the window up--it sure was beautiful outside. The forsythia’s in bloom, and everyone’s pear trees, and daffodils have been up for two weeks now, and the vast crop of wild violets is in full bloom in the yard. I had intended to put down some pre-emergent over the weekend, but, hey.

Wild violets aren’t so bad, I don’t suppose. And neither are dandelions.

I went back to work and listened to them having fun outside. And answered an occasional question from the back yard.

Along about one-ish, it got time to get everyone dressed for a trip up to the church building for one of the many kid meetings we have--they are all involved in one activity that we had gotten a call was supposed to meet at 2:00 in the afternoon, so we all got ourselves some clothes on and headed out.

Got there, and the parking lot was full, but not with our folks--bunch of college kids had been invited by our youth minister for a weekend symposium deal--but no sign of our group. We were a bit early (shockingly) so we decided to make run to the store so Reba could get some stuff for one of their residents, and then came back about thirty minutes later. Still no one. ::sigh::

I love chasing wild geese.

And the sweet-tempered children of the morning were now very hungry. Off to get some food. Stopped at Wendy’s, and for once, they had a pretty cool toy in the kid’s meal--a sort of Spirograph (The Toy for Agnew Lovers!) type deal made by Klutz. I love stuff like that--the kids were fascinated by my tales of ancient playthings like this, ones that I myself had owned as a youth. Thankfully, the new version isn’t nearly as hard for kids to master as the ones I had.

On back to home, where Reba got to work on her books again, and for some reason Jonathan decided to get out yet ANOTHER blast from the past--Star Wars. The first movie, which is actually supposed to be the fourth episode. It’s been a while since we watched the video--it’s the 1997 reissue version with the added CGI crap by George Lucas. Sorry, but it really is distracting--it’s just so obvious what was added. ESPECIALLY the Jabba/Han interaction scene. Blech. Certainly did bring back memories, though. I remember seeing it in the theater and being totally swept up into the action. It’s still pretty darned interesting. And that Carrie Fisher girl sure was cute. Anyway, over the course of the rest of Saturday evening and then later on Sunday, he (and the rest of us) managed to watch all three of the middle episodes, and then the most recent version. Not the one with all that Jar-Jar, though.

Supper Saturday night, then baths and off to bed, then up again early on Sunday.

Good day--another pretty one (at least the early part of the day) and some time after church to read the paper and stuff, then back again early for a special girls-only service (during which Boy and I stayed in the van--he played video games and I lapsed into a coma) and after that a service in which the younger guys led the service, then a meeting afterwards that lasted WAY too long, then back to home, some nice quiet soup, and then to bed. Except for Reba and Ashley, who both were still working on their homework. ::sigh::

And tonight? Time for Oldest to begin her rehearsals for her play, which will be yet another source of anxiety around the house. We were a quart low, you know.

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