From the lack of updated posts, you may infer one of two things: 1) My discipline is severely lacking. or, 2) My time has been filled with other things. I prefer to believe the latter, even if it’s only 75% true…

Life is in total limbo at the moment. I have been working in various capacities, and while I dislike having large eight hour chunks of my day just disappear, I also find that an increased income is a positive thing. Suddenly, a whole world opens up to me—Now I understand the silly grin people get on their faces as they giddily announce, “I have tomorrow off!” It’s so exciting…

I’ve been nannying. That is to say, watching two small children for several hours a week. 16, to be exact. But with everything else, I end up working about 28.5 hours per week. Anyway, spending that amount of time with people under the age of 4 can lead to various adventures. If you could call them that. Strange things happen… I learned the hard way that child number one can pick the lock to the bathroom door. Both kids disappear around the corner, and I say, “Where is Parker?” The response came back faintly, “I locked him in the bathroom!”

One day, I stepped into the other room for a second, and hear an anguished wail coming from the bathroom. Running in, I see the older brother throwing something into the toilet and flushing it, telling his brother, “You are a big boy now!”  I snatched it out, sternly admonishing, “You may absolutely NOT flush your brother’s pacifier down the toilet!” There’s a sentence I never thought I’d say.

Another thing I never thought I’d do? Be one of those people who held their hand out to a kid and said “Spit it out, now!” Yet I find it happening all the time. My principle has always been to tell the kid to go spit the toys, dirt, candy, car keys (yes, I found car keys in.his.mouth.), pacifiers, etc, somewhere else. Either the trash can, the sink, or anywhere BUT my hand. Yet, when a child who is allergic to dairy comes over and I discover that he has butter melting on his tongue, my immediate response is to stick out my hand and ask him to do just that. When he doesn’t, and instead swallows it back, I arm myself with the epi-pen and wait in panic for anaphylactic shock to set in…

The very first day, I discovered that my Kindle is resilient to the point of surviving having my caramel macchiato poured out on it. Last week I found that cupcakes still turn out okay, despite having a three year old dump half a jar of canola oil into them. Siphoning that off took some time…

The questions 8 year old kids ask still surprise me, too… “Emilie Edwards, are you married?” Of course, I said no, then asked why. “Oh. Well. I just thought you looked married.”  Then, upon hearing his mom congratulate me on “the new baby”, he looks over in shock and says “A baby!?! That was a really fast pregnancy. I didn’t even know!” Should I be flattered or offended? ;-)

Four year olds come up with stuff as well. “Why are you using a straw with your tea?” I respond, “Because I thought it looked fun,” and then she burst out laughing… “But you’re an ADULT! Adults don’t DO fun things!” Later, when we were eating chips, she looks at me and starts laughing again. I asked her what was so funny, and she says “YOU! YOU are so funny!” To which I say, “I was eating a chip, how is that funny?”  “But your FACE was so funny!” And here I thought my expression was just normal…

However, I am in the midst of a shift—I just got hired at a coffee shop, so I start training there on Friday. I’m quite excited…. considering the fact that I’ve wanted to do that FOREVER! And, although the realization that I can’t live the rest of my life on that kind of vocation does send me into a panic attack once in a while, I still am happy to try it for a couple years! :-) Hopefully I am good at it/enjoy it.

My parents went to the Shepherd’s conference this last week—without me. So much for enjoying Palm Springs… :-P Being without them was weird, but we managed. I am a little bit of a fatalist, though. As soon as they drive away to the airport, I begin to think things like “What if the plane crashes, and they both get hurt? how will we manage?” Or, as I’m driving and the van sounds suspicious, ‘What if it breaks down? Clark doesn’t answer his phone at work, and everybody is GONE! What will I do and who will I call? I can’t fix a VEHICLE!” However, none of those catastrophes occurred. The house didn’t burn down, we didn’t run out of food, no vehicles broke, nothing. They’ll be home in two hours and “all will be right with the world.” A lot happened in the week they were gone! I was offered two jobs, Clark got another job, I got half-laid off one of my current jobs, and we made plans for our family vacation. Men from our church filled the pulpit, and that’s a new thing—normally we bring someone else in. This morning was productively spent getting laundry run, doing dishes, sweeping and vaccuuming, cleaning out the fireplace, cleaning the bathroom, and doing all kinds of other things so mom doesn’t come home to a disaster! Now, I am quite ready to go sit and relax, and work on a book for a while. Next update will hopefully include pictures, and if I wait long enough to post, they’ll be pictures taken by a Nikon D90. Happy thought!

Goodness gracious. It’s been a while since a post, so I offer my deepest apologies. Amid a whirlwind of activity that included bridal showers, winter storms, power outages, weddings, work, and hopefully soon a new niece, I have had neither the time nor creativity for a decent blog. I know, you’re thinking “I could’ve sworn I saw a more recent post that is no longer appearing here.” You’re right! I posted, then deleted. I do that sometimes… Now, to avoid having to re-assess and delete yet another post, I am playing it safe. Excerpts are the order of the day. I always make time for reading, and I know that in quoting Manton and Swinnock the likelihood that I’ll need to delete later is greatly lessened.

Thought this section on the effect of faith on our lives was quite good… It went on for a long time, so I just pulled out two quotes.

Faith sweetens all the afflictions of this life by presenting the advantages of the future, and balanceth what we feel with what we do expect. The shortest life is long enough to be sensible of inconveniences and many calamities. But though the way is rough, faith seeth heaven at the end of the journey, and so it conveyeth real support and comfort into the soul and heart of a believer. A Christian may live in the sweetness of tranquility in the midst of all outward disturbances, because the presence of his hopes makes amends for all, and giveth him a happy dedolency that he feels nothing; whereas when faith is weak we soon faint: Ps cxix 92, “Unless thy law had been my delight, I had perished in my affliction.’ There is such a sweetness in the Word, that when faith takes hold of it, the sense of worldly misery is overwhelmed and quenched. Faith is like a cordial that keeps off the poison of affliction from the vital spirits, and the poison of the encumbrances of the present life from the soul…They that know heaven to be their home, reckon the world a strange country. There is a more excellent glory sealed up to them in Christ, and they do the less care for worldly advantages; certainly they do not lay out their strength and their care upon them. Who would purchase a rattle with the same price that would buy a jewel? or dig for iron with mattocks of gold? They will not wear out their affections on carnal things; faith acquainteth them with nobler objects… But now when men only relish and favour earthly things, and live as if their hopes were only in this world, they either have no right to heaven, or believe they have none.”

-- Thomas Manton, Sermons on Hebrews 11, Sermon 2

Swinnock later!

Wow. What a week I have had. On Monday, things looked so great. I woke up with energy! That was, well, abnormal and amazing. So, thanking the Lord for the temporary power boost, I put it to good use. Twelve hours later, things took turns for the worse…. I think the word they typically use to describe it is “flu”. The fact is, I’d never had it before. At least, not like this. It would be much better described with a title like “The Wretched Anguish”, or “The Despondent Misery,” or “The Wannabe Black Death". Having been hit hard, all I can really articulate is that Monday night = Worst night, physically, that I’ve ever had. Ever. Severe back pain set in a bit later, because clearly my muscles aren’t used to working for eight hours straight that hard….. So the next twelve to eighteen hours were spent half conscious on the couch, with a heating pad, moaning and groaning and pretty much only aware of misery. You’ve been there, I’m sure. Next day? similar, just less pain, and less sleep. (not that what I was getting could really be called “sleep”) I start to think I’m fine, then I sit up. Pass out, sit up again. Ringing in the ears, more moaning and groaning, then as things go more gradually black, ending up on the floor and wondering if someone will bring me ice water.
Three days later, I went somewhere. And ate real food. Yes. That is how pathetic it’s gotten. What’s more, I was actually excited to do that. *sigh*. Having lost more weight than I planned on or wanted, I’m quite ready for, oh, a steak or two. And a giant, triple or quadruple shot, extra hot, extra foam, extra caramel macchiato by tomorrow.
There are benefits that come out of it. I shudder to say those words in connection with the WBD, but it’s true. First off, you are reminded in a very real, in your face way, to pray for friends who suffer from chronic illnesses. I spent time in between bouts of sickness praying for a friend who has a bad stomach thing going on, for the last year, and the doctors don’t know what it is or how to fix it. Also time praying for a couple different people I know who have severe back pain. It’s terrible, and there’s nothing so fervent as prayers born of empathy. Always, I feel sympathetic, but when you are suffering, even temporarily, from a similar malady, you are much more stirred to approach the throne of Grace on behalf of others who have no respite in sight.
Anyway. After (mostly) recovering from that, I had a pretty busy weekend. Christmas parties are fantastic on Friday nights, and I had a grand time with the people from Emmanuel. Saturday morning the kids were here. Even though I’m convinced they are the reason I got sick, I was still happy to see them. Gabriel is becoming quite the conversationalist lately, and I’ve found that philosophizing with a three year old can be scarily on my level. Rebecca came up with this-- “Hey Emilie Edwards, do you believe in Santa Clause?” Carefully, I asked, “What do your parents say?” She frowned, and held out her hands, “Well, I don’t think they do… But I think I do. I mean (punctuated with a frown and shrug), he’s Santa Clause.” I left that one alone….
Zoo lights: new experience. I would love to do it sometime again if 1) I had no time constraint {we did it on a Saturday night, and that’s never the best time for me} and 2) on a weekday when there are less people. Lots of lights, some animals. Cold.
Scrooge the Musical: Amazing and well done. Negatives first: This sounds terrible, but the only things I didn’t like about it were the few small attempts at Christian-ization. Gasp! It was put on by a church, but it’s the sort of church that is more prosperity, Jesus-lives-to-make-you-happy-so-let-him-in-your-heart kind of thing. Near the end, after an emotional build up and song about “changing”, they paused in the production to have all three giant screens light up with a video plea from the pastor to “pray this prayer” and welcome Jesus to your world. Oh goodness. I had never actually seen that sort of thing in action before. Honestly, it was horrifying. I felt like it should’ve been called “How to mislead hundreds of people about salvation in two easy steps.” Literally, he had them repeat after him. And yes, at the end when he wanted everyone to stand up and shout “Merry Christmas”, I was the only one in the audience who was still sitting. It’s not that I don’t like to have fun and relax—I mean, I’ll yell with the best of them when a tractor pops a wheelie at the Enumclaw Christmas parade—it’s just that I can’t bring myself to shout phrases after someone who earlier who had tried to talk everyone into saying a canned prayer that had absolutely nothing to do with the gospel, repentance, sin, or any of the essential facets of Scripture. My mother was horrified… “Really. You didn’t even stand up with the entire rest of the auditorium?” My dad, however, would’ve been the second person to stay seated. At least I didn’t say anything, though I wanted to. Phrases like “Over my dead body, you heretic” were running through my mind.. . . 
Positives: Some fantastic songs were thrown in, and one in particular was sung very well by a man and woman who I could’ve listened to for quite a while. Plenty of dancing is fun to watch, and the costumes were good. So many lovely dresses! They did a phenomenal job with the orchestration aspects of it as well. Several french horns, trombones, trumpets, and pianos. What they didn’t have in strings, they made up for with around 5 keyboards. One man running two keyboards provided lots of good string ensemble background music for the creepy parts. Snowfall, random pyrotechnics, beautiful set —Fun evening!
Anyway. I am exhausted from all these random fun things, and Christmas isn’t even over yet. Hopefully I’ll be rejuvenated enough to enjoy the Christmas coffee hour this Sunday, and maybe even get up extra early on Christmas day! Optimistic thoughts indeed.

So this is Christmas…

It’s come to our home! Take out several bins of mysterious looking lights, bright colors, glass ornaments, frosted ribbons, and this is what comes out of it…..

 

Every year, I love to be up in the middle of the night, while the rest of the household sleeps, and sit cozily in a living room only lit up by the Christmas lights. There’s a peacefulness in the atmosphere that can’t be reproduced by a bedside lamp or flashlight. If I happen to have cocoa and marshmallows, that’s an added bonus…

Those were from the living room. Our kitchen, however, is a tribute to….

Santa Clause. Shocking, I know. Living room attempts to stay elegant and relaxed. But the kitchen becomes one giant whim of fancifulness. A wreath with Starbucks ornaments, lots of peppermint colors, bright green glittered signs of “Merry Christmas”, and a giant sign that says “Believe!” Unfortunately, the face of Santa clause is directly behind the sign. I’m not sure what we are lobbying for….

And everywhere, there are lights. Last night alone, we blew a fuse three times. This Christmas season is going to alternate between twinkling, glittering brightness, and the pitch black punctuated by someone yelling “It’s pitch black in here! Somebody go reset the fuse!”

 

But the best addition to the decorations this year is one that will stay all year ‘round. Something I’ve waited for a long time, and might be enough to keep me living in my parents house for way too long….

Yes. It came. Last night we got the call… “We’re on our way with your piano, and it’d be great if there was a latte waiting.” For that, I’d buy a thousand lattes! (I might anyway, at the rate I’m going).

Baldwin, 5’2”. An original Baldwin, in quite decent condition. Model M.  AH! Real ivory keys, true sostenuto…. Having already spent hours playing on them, yes, I can tell a difference. It surprised me, but there is definitely a better feel to them. You have more control, your fingers don’t slip at all, and therefore you can be more accurate, especially while playing faster.

Anyway. Mom and I spent quite a while laughing and giggling like maniacs last night, just looking at it. It still weirds me out to see a grand piano in our living room. I love it. I cannot remember the last thing we got that was so exciting! I’d say this makes for a good December. And playing on the church piano is going to be absolute murder now….

Punctuated with Pictures.

My weekend was something akin to insanity. Mental, slightly. Physical, absolutely.

But first, let me cover thanksgiving. Since we don’t celebrate until Friday, I went to a friend’s house on the actual day, which was great. My family had a much smaller one than usual, since the half of my cousins that usually come were over in Eastern Washington.

But Rachel was here with her family…

 

 

And of course, we had to walk to the park afterward. Some kind of activity to work off all those calories is good, I suppose.

 

And on the way home, we played some walking-frisbee… and took some more pictures!

 

And after thanksgiving came and went, I found myself going Christmas tree hunting.

Originally, I had no clue what all was involved. Vague thoughts of snow and hiking swirled around in my brain, and those were indeed correct. However, in my mind’s eye, I had no vision of what was truly going to go on…..

The setting: Waaaaay up Forest Service Road 74, amidst quite a bit of snow. The characters: A few Smiths, several Larsons, and one befuddled Edwards. To prevent misrepresenting my level of prepared-ness, let me explain… I was quite careful to do some logistical reconnaissance on this mission beforehand. People were questioned closely about what I should bring, what all would happen, etc. Therefore, I was well armed with all kinds of wool and polypropylene layers to go under all the other layers upon layers, and thanks to some military friends, had some pretty decent stuff.

But let me warn you. If in the future, someone hands you a pair of boots with a smile, and says “Here, these are waterproof! Just pop on some wool socks, and you’ll be set!” Don’t believe it. Chances are that, like me, halfway through the day you will find yourself tromping up a hill, amazed that despite being overheated from exertion, you still can’t feel your little toe. The hypochondriac in me begins to wonder, “How long does it take for frostbite to set in?” Then the logical part of me intervenes with, “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not actually that cold up here. Your nose is fine, and that means your toes are fine.” Note that this still doesn’t stop me from cautiously querying about it, then feeling like an idiot as soon as the words leave my mouth. (this is a common occurrence, by the way.)

Getting up to where the actual trees were turned out to be quite complex. It involved…..

 

Getting stuck several times. Then getting dug out. Rinse, Repeat. It’s not scary, as long as you trust your driver. It’s merely time consuming. But surprisingly, fishtailing on a snowy road can be fun. Nonetheless, I was glad to be in the passengers seat or backseat, and not responsible for the wheel…

Once we landed at the first spot, I was slightly agog at the amount of snow I had to trudge through. And I do not use the word “Trudge” lightly. Let me give you a true description. Carefully I take a step. Happy to find that I am still upright, I let my weight shift a bit. Wham. That’s when one leg goes plummeting into the two and half feet of snow. Finding myself standing crooked and in well over my knees, I sigh, think of how wet my feet are getting, and try to step halfway out of the hole I’ve created. BAM. I fall on my face. Reset—This time I have my feet further apart in a convoluted attempt at weight distribution. “If I lean forward at the right angle while I step…” Smack. Back down into the snow. By now I’ve made it a whole ten feet!

That’s when I look up from my snowy mess that I’ve sunk down into, only to find myself facing a pair of these:

 

Snowshoes, planted lightly on the snow, not sunk in much at all. It was as if they were mocking me….  If only I’d had some…. Next year.

Anyway. A tree was successfully found, and brought back down. Not by me, but nonetheless, my mother will have a Christmas tree to decorate this year.

 

 

I’ll perhaps add more details later.

In my mind, there was a lovely plan of sitting in front of a fire with a pot of tea, blogging something beautiful. The trouble is, I am quite out of tea, and there are no logs stockpiled by the kitchen door like usual. I know, the words “You are pathetic” are going through your head right now. It just might be true….. While I do realize that I could tromp out into the backyard, wrapped in one of the guys’ plaid flannel quilted shirts with extra long sleeves (to protect from spiders), and bring in wood from the woodpile, I have good reasons for hesitating. Last year, I was fearless. I pulled on gloves, chopped kindling, and brought in lots of wood. I hesitate now because the spiders have begun to take vengeance on me. I think I got bit last night, and thus have no intention of baiting them further and increasing my availability to their habitat. Therefore, having eaten a large and quite good breakfast (though I do say so myself… ;) ), I intend on stealing  *cough* borrowing some of my brother’s tea, and settling for turning on the heat instead of enjoying a cozy fire. With my current mood, this post was either going to turn out very dark, introspective, and deep, or be a light inane chattery one. Today I am settling for the latter. Consider carefully before you proceed, lest the result of reading be a strange lightheaded feeling.

I’ve gotten to a terrible place of breaking my own rules. Normally, I would never go over to someone’s house in pajama pants and a sweatshirt. Nor would I ever set foot in a store or coffee place while wearing sweatpants or workout clothes. And no, it’s not because I don’t know how to relax. It’s just that I generally do my relaxing at home. By myself. I am not the sort to be comfortable enough in most people’s homes to don comfy clothes. Generally I reserve that for my home sweet home. Sadly, I can’t live up to my precedents. Me and my anemic, low iron, low energy self (yes, I’ve been forgetting to take all my lovely pills.) have been wandering into people’s homes, borrowing pajama pants, and crashing on couches without so much as a by-your-leave. Good heavens.

I also thought I would never put chai spice into a mocha. That one has been broken about a dozen times now…. It turned out to be quite good, despite the shocked and wary looks the barista at Starbucks gave me. They have no tolerance for brilliance and creativity, apparently. Nor did I plan on making my coffee without putting vanilla or some such flavor in it. And yet, multiple times I’ve used only sugar and milk. What is my latte-mocha-frappuccino world coming to? The day I drink black coffee and actually like it will be a dark one, that will hopefully never come. I am too close for comfort already. This must stop….

One of my worst social confessions of last week? I turned on the country radio station. Heavens to betsy. I never do that. If by some freak of radio waves, I happen to catch a twangy note or two, I immediately exclaim aloud, and turn the station posthaste. But this time, I actually did it on purpose. If you know me well, you understand what an earth-shaking thing that is to do. Lest you think me too far fallen, let me assure you—I did not linger for more than twenty seconds. It was like stepping to the edge of a cliff, peering over and pondering jumping. Then, with a sudden return to sanity, being snatched away from the edge and brought back to safety.

This week I am resolved. I’ll be taking my pills, drinking my coffee, staying hydrated, and keeping it all together.

I should be going—I have a game night to plan, some Owen to read, piano lessons to teach, a dishwasher to load, laundry to put away, piano to practice, a caramel party to arrange, and an apple pie to make. I’ll save my deeper musings for another day. (or just throw them away).

I’d just like to remind you that it’s not Christmas yet.

There’s really no way to describe it. It’s one of those enigmas that may remain unexplained for an entire lifetime—perhaps even longer. Creeping up on you slowly, it then startles you with its awful strains, and if you’re the easily captured sort, it snatches you from gloom and showers you with a combination of grimacing, smiling, laughing, and cringing. If you are strong, you’ll make it through three, maybe even four minutes. I can’t make it that long. And that’s why, when my parents came home on Monday, and snuck a cd into the player, turning it up to high volume, I couldn’t decide whether to run or burst out laughing. First I heard Christmas-like bells jingling, then a voice. Sounds like a promising beginning…. Except that the voice belonged to Bruce Springsteen, and the song was “Santa Clause is coming to town.” If you have never listened to it, now is the time to do it. It is definitely four minutes of cultural education that you will never get back. But until you hear it, you’ll never understand. It’s so obnoxiously dreadful, so horrifically off-key, so severely gritty, that it almost is worth listening to, merely because it is so bad as to become entertaining. I think its appeal is sentimental for me, for there can really be no other explanation. But I’m afraid that the sentimentality can only get me through the first two minutes. Oddly enough, at the time they got home, I had been having a rather bad day, and had in fact written a depressing blog post just before they arrived. (Which will remain unpublished.) Yet something about Springsteen’s off key, skewed rhythm, and christmassy sound pulled me out of it. In the face of so much musical  discord and destruction, all you can do is burst out laughing. Then, sixty seconds later, say “Wait, are you serious? We’re going to hear the whole song?”

Thus begins this season’s Christmas music. I know, I know-- I have posted before about how much I abhor the tendency of listening to Christmas music BEFORE Thanksgiving, and I still hold to that. Sometimes, with admirable effort, I can restrain the tide of jingling bells, snowy themes, chestnuts and stockings, red noses, and frosted evergreen trees from hitting our home until after the third Thursday in November, but this year I am clearly fighting for a lost cause. Two more new Christmas collections from Costco have been tossed into the mélange of bright cheery tunes that we already have, and I’m afraid they are about to become the bane of my existence.

Just tell me one thing. Am I the last person left who LOVES Christmas music, but only in it’s season? Is there anyone else out there who understands that the glories of Christmas music are best saved for AFTER thanksgiving?

Answers/Accusations/Proclamations of shock would all be appreciated.