Archive | February, 2012

To Verb, or not to Verb

9 Feb

Things I (We) Love:  Verbs

Wait, wouldn’t it be more appropriate if it read . . .

Things I (We) Love To Do:  Verb

It bothers me that verb is a noun.  It can even be made into an adjective, but it can’t, at least not in Merriam-Websterland, be a verb.  Verb can’t verb.  It’s all wrong.

But don’t worry, I still believe in verbing.  In fact, you might have noticed, I verb a lot while writing.  You know of what I speak, right?  It’s like this:

I love Michigan because although it lightnings and thunders, it doesn’t often tornado.

(It’s true.  As a child I had plans to move to tornado-free Alaska, but the Mitten State has done a good job of showing its fury in terms of blizzards, not cyclones.  I don’t mind living in gray-scale several months of the year if it means I don’t have to endure the dizzying trip to Oz.)

Okay, here’s another example of verbing:

Ugh, I just decontacted myself.

(No, really, I did.  I rubbed my itchy eyes, and just like that, both flimsy little lenses fell – one to my lap, and the other to the floor.)

Alright, one more example:

Look at this!  My daughter’s hair pigtailed!

(Betcha thought that was just a sentence fragment.   Nope, both subject and predicate are accounted for.  Plus, I can’t resist an opportunity to post a gratuitous picture of Cecilia’s hair.)

In summary, my friends, it’s okay to verb.

Well, unless you’d rather grammar.


Though I Admire Your Angel Eyes . . .*

8 Feb

If you ever viewed the albums we used to post on facebook in days of yore, you might have noticed an ongoing theme in our pictures.  It is simply called:


As best we can tell the origin is our father, and his genes are certainly strong in some of our children.  Today I present to you the Eight-Year-Old Birthday Nose:

*If you’ve never heard this little Sandra Boynton/Neil Sedaka tune there’s a tiny little sniff, um, I mean snippet over here.


We Now Return You to Your Regularly Scheduled Programming

7 Feb

I’m sort of thinking in snippets these days, so on this, my return to blogging, I’m going to give you some of those simple headings that capture some of this past emotional week.

Thank you.  We are enormously grateful for all of the cards, hugs, prayers, facebook comments, memorials, visits, meals, childcare, coffeecakes, bagels, cookies, flowers, house cleaning and general friendship we received this week.  The Lord has certainly worked through all of you to comfort us in our grief and strengthen us with His promise of the Resurrection.

Sound of Sinner-Saints.  Eighteen Pastors belting out “The golden evening brightens in the west; Soon, soon to faithful warriors cometh rest; Sweet is the calm of paradise the blest.  Alleluia!  Alleluia!”  may very well be the beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.  I would like them to sing it at my funeral.  Strike that.  I would like them to sing it before my funeral.  By the time my funeral rolls around I’ll be privy to some even better music.

Days of Our Lives.  Jerry’s Dad lived 33, 405 days.  Here’s a picture of him somewhere around Day 2191:
Whole Wheat Flash Back.  You know those bagels I mentioned earlier?  I ate one this morning and had a serious Twin Pregnancy Flashback.  And not the nasty Junie B. Audiobook type, either.  For several months that delicious combo, sometimes with a side of orange marmade or lemon curd, was the primary source of my requisite 3200 daily calories.  The babies must have also recalled this delight.  As soon as they smelled it toasting they came clamoring for bites.

Excuses, Excuses.  My sister has also not been blogging much as of late.  I’ll let her tell you her valid excuse, but I didn’t want you to think she’d disappeared in a cloud of dust.  Although, the same excuse she has for not blogging probably also applies to cleaning her house, so I guess it’s possible.

Mishandling Loss.  Thomas came running into the kitchen, hand outstretched, during breakfast the other day shouting, “Tooth!  Tooth!”  Instead of assuming that my six-year-old son lost his first tooth, I asked, “Did Simeon lose a tooth and give it to you?”   You see, he didn’t tell us he had a loose tooth, although he sheepishly acknowledged that he knew, but I question whether or not he had come to the conclusion that looseness preceded falling outness.  Abraham witnessed the entire drama and is now mortified at the thought of losing teeth.  With full-on shoulder slouching, and his old-man worried look he shook his head and said, “I hope this never happens to me.”  Also, I failed to take a picture of Thomas’ new countenance.  Please accept this one and imagine an empty spot.  I couldn’t bring myself to picnik in a hole.Wait!  I’m off the hook!  You can’t see his lower teeth when he smiles, anyway.  Whew.

Handling Loss with Technology.  The paper delivery has now been reduced to Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday.  Poor Simeon thought he would have to wait until today to find out the Super Bowl winner.  We DVRed it for him.  And even though was “voting” for New England because he liked their “suits” and “pictures” he took the loss just fine.  Both times.  Also, I wonder if there are any other eight-year-olds in the greater Grand Rapids area that are as bummed about the lack of M/W/F/Sat paper as our son.

Finding Gains Amid Loss.  Although this past week was filled with sadness, and never let anyone tell you that just because someone is 91 and suffers from Alzheimer’s that it’s any less sad to lose a parent, my husband and I had a delightful week together.  We spent hours together at his father’s bedside, hours together in the car, hours together arm in arm receiving condolences, hours together looking over old photographs, hours together crying, laughing, talking and being one.  And for those hours I give thanks for this week.

Mush and Eye Rolls

4 Feb

Today is my oldest nephew’s 8th birthday. And as there are very few things I can do from 12 hours away to aid their family during this difficult time, of blogging I am able. So, Simeon, I hope you don’t mind, but this goofy (his words, not mine) aunt is butting in today.

You know those few really poignant moments that you have in life during which a feeling erupts that you didn’t even know was possible? 8-ish years ago, after a harrowing, snow-blind, 14-hour drive in a compact car with 3 other adults, I lugged my 32 week pregnant self across drifts, through a questionable emergency room, up a sterile elevator into a shocking vision of love and completeness. There, at a little after midnight on February 5th, I witnessed a sleeping family.

A family.

The picture, thankfully, is tattooed into my memory. There were three people in that room. THREE! I can still see that shockingly beautiful bald head silhouetted against his labor-exhausted mother. It was as if he had been dropped magically into existence. And (I’m sorry, Simeon, I’m going to get mushy), I loved him painfully and immediately. That little boy, although my nephew, created the mother in me.

Thank you, my sweet first nephew. And Happy Happy 8th Birthday. I love you. (Okay, buddy, you may proceed to give me that famous eye-roll.)

An Aunt and Her Nephew