Why did our trip home from Phoenix take 15 hours?

Because it was not navigated by Angela, who's all about reaching the destination, but by Mark, who's all about detours and hence planned an excursion to the Grand Canyon.

On the plus side, the kids can now recite large portions of Kung Fu Panda in unison. On the down side, we ate fast food twice today--which is one-and-a-half times too many.

Some favorite Arizona pics:


Thanks again to Markus and Shanna who are the only people in the world (other than those who gave birth to us) brave and kind enough to host our family.

How do you do it? Montessori style.

When we lived in Logan, we enrolled Roscoe in a little Montessori preschool. On his first day, the teacher showed us around the room. Montessori schools focus on children learning through self-directed doing, so there are no desks, but lots of cubbies with blocks and paints and such.

The teacher assigned another little three-year-old to show Roscoe how to manage the snack cupboard. The boy showed Roscoe how he could serve himself his snack at whatever time he chose, how to get a tray, put his name card on it, and take his snacks to the table. Then how to put it all away when he was through. The whole snack area was cleverly organized to make this possible. I was stunned that children could be taught to handle things so independently. And the teacher didn't even teach him how to do it--another child did!

So here's another piece of the how-do-you-do-it puzzle: Use your parenting energy and creativity to create systems that encourage your children to do their own work and learning. Laundry cubbies, easy-to-open cereal containers, morning routine charts, child-level hooks, reflective listening.

Again, it's not about foisting the work onto the child so the mom can eat bon-bons. It changes the parent into a facilitator and guide, which is not less work but different work. It gives children their own responsibility, which is empowering and fulfilling for them. It helps them expand their abilities and then utilize those abilities more fully.

Denouement

Wait--did I never tell you? It's done. 100%. Complete. Not another bit of writing or revising or signatures or copies or red tape or hoops of any kind. Mark has completed every iota of work to earn a Ph.D. in history. There's nothing more to be done. He'll be driving home with us on Sunday heretofore to act as our father, friend, and partner.

We are thankful for cousins!

kids peel potatoes

markus cuts the turkey

levi and soulmate cousin sammy get excited about dinner


shanna's eight-layer jello

jesse has a dog and a dinosaur on his thanksgiving plate

jessie and annie play

cousins lounge

mark the ph.d. spends a moment--just a short one!--in the 1830s

we enjoy arizona weather at the park

haley!

Driving driving driving

I'm too tired for any creativity, so I'll just tell you. Last night we drove down to Provo to catch a chance to see my old college friend Guenevere. Guen and I definitely need some more chat time. So then instead of driving back home, we crashed at my sister-in-law's. It was great to see her and her cute family. But Jesse...oh, Jesse. The kids and I were just spread out to sleep on the living room floor and he wandered around stepping on our faces until he finally fell asleep around 11:00. At midnight he suddenly woke up screaming. Screaming. Loudly. Irrationally. For more than an hour. When he finally fell asleep sprawled across my pillow, I breathed a sigh of relief. Then when he woke up screaming again at 5:30, I admitted defeat, loaded everyone in the van, and started driving. (Did I mention? Mark's been in Arizona for the last week, so I'm on my own.)

Security checkpoint over Hoover Dam. Rain, wind, fog. Hours and hours. Junk food. Movies.
Diet Coke. Driving, driving, driving.

We're here at Mark's sister's. With Mark, which is how we plan to keep it. We're happy to be here. Good night.

NaBloPoMo throwaway

In the spirit of quantity over quality: Trip got moved up. We're leaving now!

Getting ready for our Thanksgiving roadtrip

Compiling new playlists.
Buying mounds of simple carbs: pretzels, goldfish, fruit snacks.
Making lists.
Doing laundry.
Getting a car wash.
Mopping the floor (my prerequisite to pretty much any endeavor).
Stashing diapers under the car seats.

Prayer

I’ve been thinking a lot about prayer this week. In Left to Tell, Ilibaganza learned to use a very specific and targeted method of prayer to get what she felt she needed. For example, at one point she felt she was meant to work for the U.N. So she printed an employee directory, added her name to the bottom, envisioned herself working there, prayed every day that she would land a job there, and made attempt after attempt. Eventually she got her job.

I realized that I hesitate to pray for what I want. Part of it is that I question why I should be the one to receive a certain blessing over someone else. But most of it is that I don’t want to dictate my blessings to the Lord. The real prayer of my heart is simply, “Let thy will for me come to pass.” For example, I would really like my business to be a success. I feel this is a righteous desire that will help me bless my family. But still, I hesitate to ask, “Please help me to get more orders.” What if God has another plan for me? What if there’s another, even better, direction I should go?

And yet, I think it’s not right to give only blanket, “Please help me in the way you want” prayers. I’ve always been intrigued by the Bible Dictionary’s description of prayer as a form of work:

The object of prayer is not to change the will of God, but to secure for ourselves and for others blessings that God is already willing to grant, but that are made conditional on our asking for them. Blessings require some work or effort on our part before we can obtain them. Prayer is a form of work, and is an appointed means for obtaining the highest of all blessings.

This reminds me of when Haley is wandering around saying things like, “I like having friends come over” or “I don’t know what’s for dinner,” and I say, “Then ask me!” I’m ready and waiting to give her good things, but I want her to learn to ask for what she needs.

This seems consistent with the counsel Oliver Cowdery received when he was chided because he “took no thought save it was to ask me.” To receive answer to prayer he should first “study it out in your mind; then you must ask me if it be right” (D&C 9:7, 8). Apparently the Lord wants us to ponder and develop specific prayer requests and not just abdicate to him what blessings we need. Of course righteous prayers always include “thy will be done,” but maybe it’s a cop-out to limit our prayers to that.

But if we’re really in tune with the Spirit, our specific requests will not be inconsistent with the Lord’s will, as I fear. The Bible Dictionary says, “Prayer is the act by which the will of the Father and the will of the child are brought into correspondence with each other.” Nephi (the one in Helaman) was told, “all things shall be done unto thee according to thy word, for thou shalt not ask that which is contrary to my will” (Helaman 10:5). His will and God’s had become one. He could pray for a specific outcome—like replacing war with famine—knowing that it was consistent with God’s will.

I can think of times when I received prompting to know part of God’s plan for me. For example, at certain times we’ve felt quite sure that God wanted us to become foster parents. That knowledge would give me plenty of specific ammunition for prayer: Help us to be prepared for the challenges of foster children. Protect our children from any negative consequences. Guide us to receive the child that we can bless and who will bless us. Help us to meet the child’s needs.

I think what’s bothering me now is that I’m feeling so unsure of God’s will for me. We’ve reached the end of a long, consuming journey to get Mark’s dissertation done, and I’m not sure what our next chapter will be. I feel that God does have some things in mind, lurking around the corner, but I don’t know what they are, so I’m not sure what I should be praying for. Mostly I’m praying to know what I should be doing to prepare to fulfill whatever God asks me to do next.

So what do you pray for? What’s your take on how to pray and how specific your prayers should be?

How was the Coldplay show?

More than I can do justice to.

Brilliant--in the UK usage and ours. Intense. Energetic. Playful. Less reverent or somber than I expected. Huge. I love the way a good show picks you up and carries you along--the music even takes over your heartbeats.

Chris Martin has a tightly wound core and limbs attached with rubber bands. Gravity pulls less on him than it does on we mortals. He clearly is energized, not at all drained, by the task of entertaining thousands. He wrapped us around his finger and pulled us all together to one heart, one mind, and one voice.

After the last song, the band waved to and applauded the audience. Then they played the first encore on a little platform perched across a few seats in the first balcony. The second encore was huge and bright and loud. The third was like a hymn. (Did you know that these days you wave your illuminated cell phone instead of a lighter? Brilliant!)

Watch for pics from my friend and concert-partner Emily, who looked fantastic and not at all housewifey in the funky black skirt she bought just for the occasion.

DE - FENSE !

Today Mark defended his dissertation at Arizona State University before a committee of history professors. Co-chairing the commitee was his mentor, idol, and friend Richard Bushman. Like most defendees, Mark passed contingent on completing a list of revisions. A blessedly short list: Three of Mark's chapters carefully explicate the political dimensions of the Book of Mormon. The two committee members who aren't Mormon insisted those three chapters be condensed to one and the full treatment be relegated to an appendix. Manageable. Fine. Mark has an appointment to present his revision on Monday morning, and hopefully then he'll get some signatures. He's pounding nails into the coffin one by one.

In related news, Mark better hurry on back to defend his home turf. I'm all for a boy who loves his mommy, but Levi's passion for me has always bordered on the...unseemly. Last night on his way to bed, Levi delivered a resounding slap to my rubber duckie and said, "That's Daddy's job, but since he's not here, I'll do it."

Please, Mark. We need you.

The scalliwag himself showing off the newly enlarged hole in his teeth. His teacher keeps a chart of which kids have lost how many teeth, and Levi was becoming jealous that he had only one checkmark next to his name. So he basically ripped that bloody tooth right out one night. But now he has two checkmarks.

Slices

Logan reads bedtime stories to an attentive, if wiggly, audience.

Jesse patiently endures a haircut.

Jess roars.

Logan scowls.

MORE on School Systems: The Consequences of Consequences

Right now Logan is downstairs in his room screaming that I'm the worst mom in the world. He left his planner at school, and the rule is he's grounded if he doesn't bring home his planner and homework. I was very tempted to let him slide. He's been doing pretty well, it was an honest mistake, and I really don't like taking away the things my children love. But then he started whining and arguing and telling me all the ways my parenting strategies are poorly conceived. And then, somehow, he lost my sympathy. Plus, I'm constantly learning and re-learning with this kid that mercy doesn't work--cause-and-effect consequences do.

Meanwhile, I'm getting confirmation that our strict follow-through with Logan is having the intended effects. Last night he brought home a report card that is much, much better than last year's. Not perfect. Not even his full capacity. But a big improvement. Mark and I had a little confab with Logan on the hallway floor, and it broke my heart to see his pride in his accomplishments. See? It feels good to do your duty.

Today I called his teacher to reschedule our parent-teacher conference, and she told me how much she enjoys Logan. How he's clever and involved and kind and patient. Be still my beating heart! Then she told me how some silliness popped out of Logan's mouth, and she responded, "Logan, I like you." And how he smiled, speechless.

Left to Tell: Discovering God amidst the Rwandan Holocaust, Immaculee Ilbagiza

In this book, the horrors of the Rwandan holocaust are the backdrop for this woman's process of making God the center of her life. When faced with seemingly impossible odds--hiding in a bathroom while killers call her name in the next room, walking down a road surrounded by machete-wielding killers--she forces herself to replace the hate and fear in her heart with God's love.

She says, "God is the source of all positive energy, and prayer is the best way to tap into his power." At some points she prays for 20 hours a day, and in the end, succeeds in forgiving her tormenters so she can build a new life of peace, optimism, and hope.

Yes, the subject matter is terrible, but I highly recommed this book. It's a short, fast, exhilarating, and empowering read; I could hardly put it down once I began. Ilibagiza describes her relationship with God in a style that's a bit different from Mormons', but I can recognize the truth of her quest to make God's love infuse her life. I've spent the afternoon pondering how I can do the same.

How do you do it?

Since 5 is the new 7, people frequently ask me, "How do you do it?" Some out of morbid curiosity (subtext: “Why do you do it?). Some with a manic tinge of desperation. And I've never really come up with a great answer. The first thing that always comes to my mind is, “Go fast” and “Work all day.” Those aren’t very inspirational or encouraging, are they?

Last night my Brother Mark asked. And then--because our family is all about constructive criticism—he coached me on improving my answer. According to him, my answer should always begin with this:

Don't think of it as having more children; think of it as creating playmates.

One morning a week, for two hours, everyone is gone to school except Jesse. This is not necessarily my most productive time, however. Jesse is befuddled, and grumpy: "Where is everyone?" Instead of toddling off to join whatever madness the moment brings, he follows me around.

My siblings and I have almost no memories of our mother sitting down to play with us. She did many, many, many great things, and we all felt loved and attended to. But playing was what our siblings were for. We would never have dreamed of asking Mom to build a Lego fort with us. In fact, I remember her sitting down to play Lincoln Logs with Logan—her grandson—and not knowing how they work. This is a woman who had had Lincoln Logs in her home for twenty years.

I'm always a bit annoyed by parents who seem to accept responsibility to meet their child's every need for entertainment and play and emotional regulation. Of course children need lots of supervision and coaching, and of course extreme independence can veer into neglect. But one of the many ways I believe a largish family is healthy for children is that it generally gives children room to learn how to take responsibility for themselves.

H A L L E L U J A H !

I'm writing this from my own beloved computer! Now dried, recovered, working, functional, even connected to the Internet. Thank you thank you world! Also, thank you thank you Bro Mark!

True, Jesse has destroyed a gallon of milk and carton of eggs and many, many other things--but the computer lives on--and so shall Jesse.

Our Favorite Saturday of the Year

Today is the day Boondocks, a local family fun place, opens its doors to foster families. For free. We got delicious chili from Wendy's (you know how Dave Thomas was an adoption advocate?), doughnuts, chocolate milk, and arcade tokens. We played a round of mini-golf and Roscoe got a hole-in-one that caused a giant lizard to belch flames. Various subsets of us did go-karts, laser tag, and bumper boats. We kept telling the kids things like, "Whatever you want" and "Sure."

We never do this kind of thing. Partly because it's expensive. Also because it's not our style. I mean, you trade your money for tokens to play games, the games give you tickets, you count the tickets and trade them for cheap toys--Las Vegas has nothin' on these places for sneaky ways to make you forget you're spending money (except this time we weren't spending money).

But this Saturday is also a chance for us to hang with a mob of other foster families. It was the odd family who didn't have someone of a different color or with some disability. We saw a little boy who clearly had some kind of hydrocephaly throwing a knock-down-drag-out tantrum. His dad cheerfully chased him around and redirected him to a lawn area where he could thrash to his heart's content. And no one batted an eyelash. We saw lots of patience, wisdom, humor, and love dished out to children who have seen some of the worst the human family has to offer.

P.S. 15 posts in 15 days--on track for NaBloPoMo.

Viva la Coldplay

I am in possession of two tickets to next Saturday's Coldplay Viva la Vida concert! I am beyond excited about this.

I spent my teenaged years going to all manner of funky shows in downtown Seattle--The Honeydrippers (with Robert Plant), They Might Be Giants (before anyone ever heard of them), Jane's Addiction, P.I.L. (with Johnny Lydon formerly of the S*x Pistols). Of

course Depeche Mode. I love the concert vibe. And I haven't been to a show since before Roscoe was born.

So what does it mean that I obtained said tickets from the venue's ticket office when I was there today with Levi and Haley to see Disney on Ice, which tickets we obtained by donating 15 cans of pinto beans? I mean, Disney kitsch? Food storage? Chris Martin would think I'm an alien.

Kiss the Fist

When I was a very new mom, I had a friend who I looked up to because her son was almost three and mine was just barely past two. Once as she and I tried to chat on the couch, her little son ran up to her and growled and waved his fists in her face. Not skipping a beat, she grabbed that little upraised fist and planted a kiss on it.

That image has stuck with me ever since. How much of mothering is really just kissing fists? Responding with love to whatever (testosterone-driven) madness your little hooligans dish out.

Especially today. Earlier today, I wrote:

Little Jesse spends most of his days being a "bad guy," or "a monster," or SpiderMan, or Batman. He makes "shing-shing" sword sounds while he pretends to slash me to ribbons with his finger. Is there anything more silly than a tiny, chubby, orange, spongecake baby stomping his lilly-white feet and roaring, "I'm a giant!"

Then later I came downstairs to find that Jesse had poured a glass of water under and possibly over my laptop. Then as I cried my woes to Mark, he got a new gallon of milk from the fridge and poured it on the floor. Then he slipped in it and was soaked head to toe in milk. Then while I sopped it up, he rolled around the couch, leaving milk stains on the cushions. Then in his bath he poured a bucket of water overboard onto the floor.

And now he's in bed.

School Routine Update

At the beginning of the school year, I told you about all the new systems I was implementing. Now that Levi and Logan have finished their first 8-week session off track, enjoyed 3 weeks off track, and now started their second round of school, here's an update on our goals and systems:

1. Homework time

Doing homework right after school has been challenging for Levi. Starting first grade was stressful for him. He loved it, but he came home depleted. Plus, he has too much homework. The daily routine takes him 15-20 minutes, which in my opinion is too much for a little first grader who just spent 7 hours at school. So for now we've decided to let him take a break and detox after school, then return to his homework after dinner.

Forcing Logan to do homework right after school has been great for him. If he forgets his planner or his supplies, he's grounded for that day. This created many, many fits at the beginning of the year. But it helped him learn the simple rule that homework must be done and that it's easier to do it right than to try and avoid it. (Although he chooses to re-learn this principle through negative consequences every so often.)

He also must scan and copy any worksheet before he begins work on it. This way he can re-do the worksheet if he does a sloppy job the first time. He ended up doing a certain book report 5 times over. But again, message received. (To be repeated later, no doubt.)

However, Logan has been leaving homework at school and then telling me he has none. So the amended rule for him is that he does at least 15 minutes of homework every day. If he brings nothing home, I'll give him some homework of my own devising. This way, he'll learn he might as well work on that report a bit each day rather than leaving it all til the last night.

2. Mom's scripture study time

This has been wonderful. My 2:45 idea was ingenious. I've even set my computer's virus scan to run at 2:35, which bogs everything down and kicks me off the computer. I usually listen to a conference talk online while I fix myself a snack, then go upstairs to read the Book of Mormon. It's such a blessing to have a quiet moment to feel the Holy Ghost and center myself before launching into the rush of the evening.

I'm sure all this bores you to tears, but it shows the real work of motherhood. The real core of motherhood isn't the laundry and chauffering and cooking. It's the constant work and pondering to figure out what next step each child needs to take, and then devising little strategies that will lead them where they need to go.

The Hallway, a short assignment

It’s been a while since I did a short assignment, so here’s one I cooked up the other night:

Once she mounted the last concrete step and exited the stairwell, the corridor stretched before her with unforgiving precision. A trail of fluorescent lights bisected the ceiling like the dotted lines on a midnight road. She shuddered when her first step echoed sharply on the slick linoleum, but she forced herself to continue. She concentrated on neither hastening nor slowing the cadence as she passed curtained windows and closed doors. For the moment, the hallway was empty. Even the hospital PA system was silent. Like a crypt, she thought. Like death.

On the right, Room 215, 217, 219. On the left, 214, 216, 218. So she identified her door, Room 220, before she arrived. It loomed larger as she neared. Her instinct, of course, was to stop. Who would want to enter? Who would want to face what lay inside? But she wouldn’t interrupt what momentum she had. Her footsteps didn’t break rhythm as she approached the door. The hammer strikes continued as she swung the latch, and shouldered the door open.

Sunshine was pouring in the window, and she felt as if opening the door released a tidal wave of light to crash around her. She was blind as she stepped over the threshold. The window was open, and she could hear the faint rush of traffic, wind in branches, voices, birds. The deathly spell of the hallway was broken. Another step forward, blindly, until the shape of the hospital bed emerged faintly, its head against the window. Another step, and she can see the visitors’ chair next to the bed. And in the next step, the shape upon the bed came into focus, and she saw…

Gratitude Tree

"ME" ~Logan

"YOU" ~Angela

"Indoor plumbing"

"Jesse is safe and healthy."

"the finding of the Book of Mormon"

"yoga"

"JRR Tolkein and CS Lewis"

"I am grateful for Family Home Evening treats"

"Being lucky enough to be born in a Mormon family and being saved the trouble of converting to Mormonism" ~Roscoe

"dumb blonde jokes" ~also Roscoe

"TV"

"making cookies on Sundays"

"I am grateful for the Sabbath day"

"Jack Black, Johnny Depp, Will Smith, and Steve Carrell"

"Haley"

"Target"

"I am thankful for food"

"cousins"

"our warm house"

"Levi"

"obese turkeys"

"Obama" ~Jesse

Our favorite tofu recipe

Once when I was a girl, my mother told me that she hoped there was no food in heaven. I thought that a rather dim view. Who doesn't love sitting around eating delicious food with loved ones? Now I see where she's coming from. The eternal round of planning, shopping, cooking, serving, and cleaning can feel like a Sisyphean nightmare. If the kids had their way, the kitchen would be a 24-7 short-order diner.

But after a couple months of frozen tortellini, hot dogs, pizza, and other shortcuts, it's a relief to return to our normal routine of healthy, vegetarian home-cooking. The other night we had tofu. Tofu is a super healthy protein, but I searched for years for a tofu recipe that anyone really liked. This one is simple and tasty--you can do it all in the time it takes to cook rice for a side dish. I've learned that the key to cooking tofu is to drain it well. Since it has no flavor itself, you've got to dry it out so it can absorb the flavors you're giving it.

Tofu Sticks

* adapted from the Vegetarian Times Complete Cookbook

Cut the block of extra-firm tofu in half horizontally, making two sheets. Then cut along the short end into 1/2-inch slices. Arrange on dishcloth to drain for 30 minutes; blot with paper towel.

On a plate, mix:

• 2 T flour
• 2 T cornmeal
• 1/2 t salt
• 1/4 t pepper

On a second plate, squirt 2 T mustard. Brush each tofu stick with mustard (don't ponder too deeply the implications of a talented person like yourself spending her time painting mustard onto tofu sticks). Roll tofu in the cornmeal mixture.

Place breaded sticks on a third plate.

Heat 1/4 inch of oil in a skillet. When the oil is hot, fry the tofu until golden and crispy on both sides, turning once.Serve with brown rice and salad. The kids like to dip the tofu into ketchup (of course!), but I much prefer this sauce:

Key West Barbecue Sauce

Combine ingredients, bring to boil, then simmer a few minutes:

• 1/2 c ketchup
• 1/3 c honey
• 2 T lime juice
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 small onion, minced finely
• 4 T worcestershire sauce

I blogged today

Mark has been in this house for more than twenty-four hours. He did some laundry, raked some leaves, marvelled at Jesse's mischief, and listened to Logan give a blow-by-blow of his week. I think we overwhelmed him. He's been behind a closed door in the ivory tower dissertating on his opinions, and now he's surrounded by a bunch of boisterous scalliwags with opinions of their own.

Miscellany

Balloon Head
I have a cold that has turned me into a ridiculous cartoon character, snizzling and sneezing and whining.

Cinderella
Tonight the pumpkin turns back into a mouse, or whatever. Mark did another round of harried revisions on his dissertation--doing things like going to work on Tuesday and coming home for a two-hour nap on Wednesday--and is sending it in to his committee this afternoon. So tonight is the end of the cheerful, supportive, long-suffering wife who never complains (to her husband) about his absences. Return the demanding wife! Wha-ha ha ha!

Back on Track
Today is Logan and Levi's last day "off track." Monday they'll go back to school after a three-and-a-half week break. The first week off track, they're grumpy and bored and lounge around tormenting each other. And I'm not real thrilled about their presence either. But then they learn it's more fun to play with your siblings than fight with them, and then follow weeks of jumping in leaf piles, devising new games on the tramp, and board games. So now the prospect of early mornings and homework sounds like too much of a hassle to me.

Bedtime Lovin'
For the last three nights, I've asked Roscoe or Logan to put the three little kids to bed. (Chalk it up to the oncoming cold.) I know of nothing better than listening to one of your children nurture another. Last night Roscoe told me that for his bedtime story Jesse had chosen the assembly instruction manual for his dresser. (Why is that still floating around?) And Roscoe was delighted that it was so boring that Jesse promptly fell asleep. The night before, I heard Logan singing hymns and Primary songs to Jesse until they both dozed off together. And Levi and Haley have been treated to some very dramatic and enthusiastic story-reading. I'm so grateful my big boys a.) know how to take care of little kids and b.) understand why it's fun to do so. Makes me think again that we'll really need a new baby when Logan's a teenager...

The New Me

I won this fun new blog banner from Carrie at sweet faerie designs as part of the last Bloggy Giveaway Carnival. Carrie has some great designs and she was very quick in getting her ideas back to me. Thank you Carrie!

Why I'm thrilled Obama is our next president

Well of course there’s his commitment to driving the inevitable and necessary transition to non-petroleum energy sources. And the fact that he has a vice president with nearly unparalleled expertise in foreign affairs and, even more important, a clear understanding of the dynamics of Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iraq, and Iran. And that I heard his people bend over backwards to avoid saying that his opponent’s VP lacked the above. Plus, he has demonstrated a clear-eyed focus on what’s right over what’s expedient, and he doesn’t waver from it under political pressure. For example, when Hillary Clinton proposed a pandering gas tax holiday over the summer and McCain jumped right on board, Obama said, “This isn’t a real solution. This is a gimmick.” Thank you!

But maybe the biggest reason I have a bit of a spring in my step today is the refreshing breeze of optimism and hope I felt wafting through the election celebrations last night. In the last eight years our country has been tarnished. And while McCain's meta-narrative is always about fighting against the enemies surrounding us, Obama’s discourse rests on currents of opportunity, cooperation, positive energy, and hope:

This is our chance to answer that call. This is our moment. This is
our time - to put our people back to work and open doors of opportunity for our
kids; to restore prosperity and promote the cause of peace; to reclaim the
American Dream and reaffirm that fundamental truth - that out of many, we are
one; that while we breathe, we hope, and where we are met with cynicism, and
doubt, and those who tell us that we can't, we will respond with that timeless
creed that sums up the spirit of a people:

Yes we can!

Qshurst-McGee Exit Poll

Obama: 4

McCain: 3

"I be nice my 'bama!"

Forthcoming: More than you ever wanted to know...and then some

Exciting news-- I'm doing the NaBloPoMo challenge to blog every day of November. Stay tuned!

Angela steps away from the edge, in Three Acts

Act I: Despair

Me [under my breath]: I really might die before this dissertation is done.

[pause]

Roscoe: You might...but it's not highly probable.

[Not one to tempt fate, Roscoe begins clearing the lunch dishes and picking bits of Halloween candy wrappers off the floor.]

Act II: Mercy

Later that night, after plowing through two chapters of Mark's dissertation, supervising kids, attempting to impose some order on the house, and finally, discovering that the new vacuum cleaner is broken, I say to myself, "I just can't do it all!" I cannot remember the last time Mark joined us for dinner, this place is a pig sty, the kids are getting no attention.

That moment, the phone rings. It's my lovely sister-in-law Kate asking if she can come over tomorrow to play with the kids while I work. Uh, sure. Oh, and can she bring along our dinner? Uh, yes.

After I hang up the phone, I burst into sobs. I collect myself for a moment to say to Jesse, watching from the tub (where, since he refuses to go to sleep, he sits soaking off the day's chocolate slime), "Silly Mommy!" But then the sobs continue for a while. I'm trying and trying to help Mark and kids, and now someone will help me.

Act III: Denouement

Today someone in fast and testimony meeting mentioned Sister Dalton's General Conference talk about "In the strength of the Lord, I can do all things." I believe that. But in this case, the "strength" the Lord offered me came from someone extending help. "All things," yes--but not all by myself.

Halloween