65/100

It's over. I made it through the Holiday Concerts of 2017, and I am successfully unshaven and in smelly workout clothes on a Tuesday afternoon with nowhere to be for the foreseeable future.

This was definitely the smoothest year we've ever had. I don't know how we ever made it work when I was trying to do all of the concerts and also go in and teach at Lima (and do their concert) a few days a week, or to bring J down to accompany juries, or any of the other silly things I've tried.

The key thing this year was to keep expectations low. We didn't try to go to any unnecessary holiday parties or to take the kids anywhere. We didn't have any big household projects going on, (we mostly just kept food in the fridge and laundry in the wash), and didn't do any elaborate anthems or performances for church. Eat, sleep, drive, and play the trumpet. Repeat.

The trumpet playing was definitely easier this time around. For too many years in a row I've reached the end of the Holiday Pops shows in sad shape facially. I'll be backstage warming up into a curtain, trying to get my lips to vibrate, hoping that I can squeeze out just a couple more high notes and horse whinnies before getting some respite from the brutal pounding of high-octane shows every night. This year I switched no mouthpieces, made no desperate lunges for a piccolo trumpet, and forced out no reluctant notes. I just got up at 6:30 every morning and did a long, slow warm-up, and then practiced some soft fundamental drills. And then the concert at night, and that was it.

The biggest thing to survive, however, was the driving. There were a couple of snowy nights, but nothing that added more than a few extra minutes to the trip. There was SO much driving, though. In the 23 days from Thanksgiving to my last concert, I played 23 services, and not any two of them were geographically close to each other. I went as far west as Fredonia, and as far east as Ilion. I drove 4,342 miles in total. (Some of this was carpooled, to be fair.) To drive from our house to San Francisco, for reference, is 2,725 miles. It was about 3 days of being in the car.

But now it's over, for another year.

And now, NOW and not a moment before, I am ready to have Christmas music on in our house.

64/100

I.
Owen: <holding James' history book> What is this picture? What is it? What is this picture?
Me: I can't see it. You'll have to bring it over here.
Owen: What is this picture? What is it?
Me: I really can't see it. Bring it over to the breakfast table.
Owen: <brings it over> What is this picture of?
Me: Oh, that's a she-wolf. She's going to give suck to Romulus and Remus, the founders of Rome.
Owen: <with indignant fury> It is NOT a wolf. It is a MOOSE!

63/100

Owen: <sweetly> Mommy, I love to sit in your lap!
J: <with circumspection> Yes, I like to snuggle you too.
Owen: Can I please hold you?
J: Okay, sure.
Owen: <eyeing her omelette> Say, can I have a bite of your eggs?
J: Did you eat all of your breakfast?
Me: Nope, he didn’t finish it.
J: Then I don’t think we’re going to give you parts of our breakfast.
Owen: AHHHH!!!!!!
Me: And you can’t sit with us if you’re going to scream while we eat.
Owen: But I am so hungry for your breakfast?
Me: Do you know what other animal scavenges other people’s food?
J&Me: <singing The Vulture tune from the boy’s leapfrog, Owen’s favorite song>
Owen: <incensed> Vultures do not scavenge! That is ZEBRAS!

62/100

Little Bighead (Felix) doesn’t provide nearly as many interesting anecdotes as his brothers, since he isn’t talking yet. But that doesn’t mean that he isn’t interesting—he is smiley for just about everyone, squinty in the bright sun, and either very smelly (from his spit up stains and the laundryish odors of his nightclothes) or incredibly powdery-baby-sweet smelling when he’s just had a bath. He lies in his little jungle chair contentedly and strains for the pull string, reaching it occasionally, when J is working in the kitchen or when I am practicing in the basement. (I have a space heater running when we’re down there together.) He sucks his two fingers just like Owen, and when you change his diaper he makes lunges for his feet and looks please with himself when he catches them. He gnaws on my thumb when I hold him and sends long drips of drool down my arm and his shirt-front. When J nurses him he sticks an arm up in her face and whimpers between sides as if she’s going to forget to feed him the other half of his meal. He rolls from his back to his front and then gets stuck. In a house full of noisy boys, he always smiles when he realizes that one of his big brothers is looking and talking at him. He goes down for any babysitter and seems content to be held by anyone except for one of the Saturday pastors at J’s church. (I don’t know what he holds against him, but apparently he freaked out.) He is a good baby.

61/100

Me: Listen to this boys, it’s called “The Chipmunk Song.”
<groovy sax waltz>
Owen: <giggles>
<chipmunk voices sing>
Owen: “I like it!”
<song ends>
Me: So boys, who does Alvin remind you of?
James: I don’t know!
Me: Who do we know that has two brothers, maybe isn’t very good at listening, but is really funny and loves Christmas?
James: <grinning, points at Owen>
Owen: It is NOT me! That is like GRANDMA!

60/100

I. Happy Birthday
We went into the older boy's room yesterday morning to sing "Happy Birthday" to our sweet oldest son at 7:30 in the morning. It's hard to put into words how proud I am of him. He is patient with both of his older brothers, he is kind, and we knew he was terribly excited about his day to open presents and eat cake. Here's how the first thirty seconds of the morning went:
J and Me: <singing> "Happy Birthday to you,"
James: <sitting bolt upright and smiling>
Owen: "NOOO!!!! NOO!!! NO! NO! NOOO!!!!
J and Me: <singing> "...Happy Birthday to you,"
James: <ignoring Owen, still smiling>
Owen: "NONONO!!!! NOOO!!!!!"
J and Me: "...Happy Birthday to Ja-ames,"
James: <buries his face in his stuffed animals>
Owen: "NOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!""
J and Me: "Happy Birthday to you!"
James: "Can I open my presents?"
Owen: "NO! James, it is NOT your burfday!"

II. It's MINE
James opens Cars 3, a gift "from Owen and Felix." He asks whether it is ours to keep now.
Owen: "You cannot keep it. It is mine. I need to have it."
James opens a watch, which is the exact double of the watch that we gave Owen two weeks earlier.
Owen: "I need it."
Me: "You want me to go get your watch from upstairs?"
Owen: "No, I want James' watch."

et cetera...

III. Vertebrates
Me: "Okay, James. The last thing we are going to do today is Science. And let's see...today we're starting birds, and we're going to do the Turkey!"
James: "Okay, can I see?"
Me: <tilting the book towards him and reading> "There are over 9,000 species of birds in the world, and they are the only animals with backbones capable of flight besides bats."
James: "Can I tell you something?"
Me: "Sure!"
James: "I think the author made a mistake, because he forgot about pterodactyls. They can fly and they have backbones."
Me: "Well....yes, that's correct."

IV. CO and Ice
Last Saturday we had a carbon monoxide scare. J texted me as she was heading out of the house and we were heading back to it (from a performance of Treasure Island) that something was funny in the garage. Sure enough, the carbon monoxide alarm was going off when we got home. A visit from the Fire Department and RG&E later, we really didn't have any answers as to why the alarm was set off, except to say that there definitely was a high level in the garage and that our alarms were working correctly. (Our best theory was that the door to the kitchen was cracked open and that the heat from the house trapped in the exhaust from the van backing out even though the garage door was opened.)

But really, what a day for the boys. They got to skip their naps to see Treasure Island, and then within five minutes of being home there was a real fire engine parked in our driveway and some firefighters working in our garage. I took them over to our next-door neighbors while I worked with the Fire Department. Our neighbors, being kind and hospitable people, offered them food and drinks. James had a capri sun and a granola bar. Apparently Owen only wanted a cup of ice. They gave him one. And then, because he is Owen, he told them that he had ice for sale and would sell it to them for "fifty-nine cents."

V. The Digger
Our same neighbors have been doing a lot of work on their house recently. It started with putting up some new siding, which looks great. And then they hired someone to excavate a corner of their foundation to try to repair a leak. The digger operator immediately damaged their brand new siding, of course, and then left his digger parked in our yard overnight. They were deeply apologetic. But the Digger man was back at 7 this morning digging the hole deeper, and he was right outside the boy's room. I had to change Owen's diaper standing up this morning, so he could watch the Digger outside the window.

59/100

Quotes from the boys today:

Owen: Hey, I need a snack.

J: No snack right now.

Owen: But I need a snack!

J: You already had a snack.

Owen: Oh. ... ... That was just a joke.

James: Owen tore down my pictures from my bed! All of my hard work!

Owen: Yup.

Me: Owen, did you really do that?

Owen: Yes, I tore them down!

James: THIS is the WORST THING that has happened to anyone in my WHOLE WIDE LIFE!

Owen: Hey, are there dinosaurs in libraries?

James: <primal sobbing>

Owen: Hey, are there dinosaurs in libraries?

James: Great, now I have nothing but two blank pieces of wood to look at.

Dad: Think of it as a fresh start.

James: <to J> Great, now I have nothing but two blank pieces of wood to look at.

J: Think of it as a fresh start.

James: It’s not a fresh start. It was a fresh start a long time ago.

Owen: Hey, let’s do this puzzle!

J: Okay, you should help me!

Owen: I AM helping you!

J: No you’re not.

Owen: Yes, I am!

<some time later…>

J: Well, that’s it. I finished.

Owen: Okay, put it away!

J: You should help me.

Owen: I don’t need to help. You did it all!

58/100

J and I were trying to remember which books we’d (successfully) recommended to each other over the course of our knowing each other. I can credit her for the introduction to James Herriot, for which I’m deeply grateful, and I don’t think I’d ever read a John Grisham before we met either. More recently, Just Mercy was a discovery of hers, as was Single Gay Christian, the recently published journal of one of her college friends that is being well reviewed everywhere it’s read. She has me to thank, on the other hand, for those sorcerous Harry Potter books, To Kill a Mockingbird, Bridge to Terabithia, and most recently, Erik Larson’s books.

That being said, I have a recommendation for everyone—a 127 page novella that I picked up this afternoon and finished by this evening.

The Uncommon Reader, by Alan Bennett
When her corgis stray into a mobile library parked near Buckingham Palace, the Queen feels duty-bound to borrow a book. Discovering the joy of reading widely (from J.R. Ackleu, Jean Genet, and Ivy Compton-Burnett to the classics) and intelligently, she finds that her view of the world changes dramatically. Abetted in her newfound obsession by Norman, a young man from the royal kitchens, the Queen comes to question the prescribed order of the world and loses patience with her role as monarch. Her new passion for reading initially alarms the palace staff and soon leads to surprising and very funny consequences for the country at large.

57/100

What We've Been Up To:

Felix:
Having a comically huge head. The child is in the 50th percentile for weight, the 75th for height, and the 99th for head circumference. In fact, as of his 4 month check up, he'd be in the 75th percentile in head size for a one year old. The doctor gave us these statistics yesterday, but it was something we'd been talking about for awhile.
"Can you believe how big and boxy his noggin is?"
"You put your hand on his forehead and it surprises you every time!"
"I think it's bigger than Owen's."

Owen:
Pestering James. Racing to the table and climbing into James' seat, laughing with naughty delight, whenever they're called to the table. Doing the same thing whenever we go to the minivan in James' booster seat. Climbing up to the top of James' bunk bed, throwing all of his stuff off onto the floor, and declaring it his. Generally crashing into things and falling down a lot, as if he's suddenly grown (he is wearing 3T clothes now) and isn't used to his body being quite so big. Asking lots of questions about Twynynasauwus Wex. Alternately (this comes from James reading "T-Rex" and not knowing how to pronounce it) asking questions about T'wex. Asking questions about whether rainy weather puts out the fires inside of dragons. Generally pitching operatic tantrums whenever he is denied access to candy or dessert. (This is most of the time.) Playing lots of "Fight" and "Battle" with James. (The rules, as in "Chase," are pretty much explained in the name of the game.) Still consistently mixing up his pronouns and calling any and all females "he" and "him." Giving enthusiastic support for the Buffalo Bills, who in his mind play a game called "Buffawo," with an egglike ball which can either be called a "Buffawo" or a "Football," against a team of "bad guys" called "Jeanette." (Maybe the Jets?)

James:
Showing some religious sensibilities, despite our borderline neglect of the subject in homeschool and the scattershot approach to his Sunday Schooling which he gets from alternating between different church arrangements every weekend. He composed and offered his own prayer last night, and is slowly making some connections between Bible stories and what we're reading about in the Egypt section of History. (He seemed genuinely upset when I told him I had to give his History textbook back to the library, at least temporarily, and stole it away for a few minutes to read ahead.) Working his way through a massive stack of new library books on Pirates, Snakes, Dragons, Tigers, Dinosaurs, the Magic School Bus, Elephant and Piggie, Curious George, and How to Draw Airplanes. Fulfilling every stereotype of the homeschooler who stays in pajamas all day long, and immediately changes back into them upon return if for whatever reason is required to put on something else to leave the house. Building immensely intricate Lego treehouses and towers that are far too fragile for a room shared with Owen.

Julie:
Being hugged and called a "hot mom" by her most obnoxious flute choir member upon wearing a blazer to rehearsal. (?) Stretching our end-of-the-month empty fridge creativity seven days into November (I think she's going to the grocery store) by somehow convincing the boys to eat, over the past few meals a salad with black beans on it, a roasted squash, and a chili with black beans as the only type of beans. (Black beans and squash, according to James and Owen, might as well be liver and tripe.) Reading a book about the rise of the Nazis. Executing a massive hunt, sort, and fold (this should be called a sortie) of all stray boy's clothes into their proper bins. Feeding a sneezy and largeheaded baby around the clock.

Me:
Attempting to get up earlier and get more reading (and occasionally blogging) in before little boys get up. Winterizing the house and putting outside things away before the frost and snow. Recovering from some ill-fated high note in church that has hobbled trumpet playing for the last couple days. Being aware of the necessity of cleaning the bathrooms, yet not finding the will to do so, especially during those golden moments when some or all of my children are asleep.

56/100

James came to me this afternoon and asked if I would write down the words to his story. (He had drawn the pictures.) I didn't know what to expect.

Page 1: Hamster Huey and the Gooey Kablooie

Page 2: Hamster Huey was a good hamster. He lived in a hole in a big mountain where people lived. One day a dragon came and burned the crops and grass and everyone ran to a cave and built a castle there. Each day the dragon came to the castle gates and they threw it all the food they had.

Page 3: One day someone came to fight the dragon. As soon as he saw the dragon he did a blow that cut off the end of the dragon's tail. Then, all of a sudden, he threw his sharp sword and it struck the dragon's tummy, and one of his wings fell off, and he fell to the ground dead.

Page 4: As soon as the people saw the dragon was dead they threw open the castle gates. Fireworks sounded the news that the great beast had fallen. People came out and measured how long the dragon was. Hamster Huey came out of his hole. When he saw the dragon he bit off his claws. Then he began to bite all his scales off. But when he saw that the dragon's tail was cut off he began to eat the tail. Then he went over and when he saw that one of the dragon's wings was cut off, he began to drink the blood that came from it. Then he began to bite off the tongue and eat it. And when he saw that the sword was in his chest he quickly ran to his cave and made another bright sword from the claw feet that he had saved from his house. And then he gave it to the hero. And when he saw it, he got on his horse. But before he ran away, he made a little chat with Hamster Huey. And then he quickly rode away. And then Hamster Huey heard something go "Kablooie!" The castle had been shot down. And everyone else lived happily ever after.
THE END

55/100

The world is full of bragging. And trumpet players are the worst. (See, even this is a brag. I am distinguishing myself from all other trumpeters by claiming to be aware of and immune to their great flaw.) Everyone has a story about the time that they played with such-and-such an important person, or can relate how their performance went of such-and-such a piece. ("My, weren't you young to be performing that? You must have been quite precocious!") Even the stories of missed notes are brags. (I was playing Zarathustra, and the first call went great, but then I totally cacked the note on the lower call!)

Talking about food too quickly turns into a comparison of who knows the most about techniques, flavors, and wine pairings. Talking about exercise inevitably ends with a discussion of how many miles you run and how fast you run them. (Or, for the more gymnasium-oriented, how much you can lift, I suppose.) Talking about politics or religion is often little more than an excuse to show off your most impressive sounding sound-bites or arcane statistics. Even writing a blog can be a tempting vehicle for showing off your fancy-pants English vocabulary by using words like "arcane."

We show off vehicles, boots, clothes, bodies, marriages, computers, deodorant brands, houses, repair know-how, shopping savvy...pretty much everything.

And I hope that I, who am at heart an unregenerate braggart, keep a lid on my worst and most braggadocios impulses most of the time.

But this is worth a little bit of bragging:

J and I have completely paid off our student loans.

54/100

GPC 10/22

MUSIC I

Qoheleth enters, dressed in disheveled black, and pours himself a scotch. Two readers stand on either side of him. He rubs his eyes and begins to speak.

Qoheleth: Meaningless. Empty. Vain. It’s all…all meaningless. What does a man gain by all the toil he does under the sun? A generation goes, a generation comes, the earth remains. The sun rises, the sun goes down, it hastens to the place where it rises. The wind blows to the south and goes around to the north; around and around goes the wind. And on its circuits the wind returns. All streams run to the sea, but the sea is never full; to the place where the streams flow, there they flow again. <brief pause> All things are full of weariness; a man cannot utter it. The eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear filled with hearing. What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done, and there is nothing new under the sun. Is there anything of which it is said “See, this is new?” It has been already in the ages before us. There is no remembrance of former things, nor will there be any remembrance of things yet to be among those who come after.

I, Qoheleth, have been king over the people in the high city. And I applied my heart to seek and to search out by wisdom all that is done under heaven. It is an unhappy business that the gods have given to the children of men. I have seen everything that is done under the sun, and…and…all is vanity and a waste of breath.

Reader 1: What is crooked cannot be made straight and what is lacking cannot be numbered.

Qoheleth: I said in my heart ‘I have acquired great wisdom, surpassing all who were over the High City before me, and my heart has had great experience of wisdom and knowledge.’ And I applied my heart to know wisdom and to know madness and folly. I perceived that this also is but a waste of breath.

Reader 2: In much wisdom is much vexation and he who increases knowledge increases sorrow.

Reader 1: Qoheleth said he would test his heart with pleasure, to enjoy himself.

Qoheleth: Meaningless!

Reader 1: Laughter

Qoheleth: Madness!

Reader 1: Pleasure

Qoheleth: What use is it?

Reader 1: He searched with his heart how to cheer his body with wine, and wisdom guided his heart. He sought to lay hold on folly, till he might see what was good for the children of men to do under heaven during the few days of their life.

Reader 2: He made great works. He built houses and planted vineyards for himself. He made himself gardens and parks and planted in them all manner of fruit trees. He made himself pools from which to water the forest of growing trees.

Reader 1: He bought male and female slaves, and had slaves who were born in his house. He had great possessions of herds and flocks, more than any who had been before him in the High City.

Reader 2: He gathered silver and gold and the treasure of kings and provinces. He got singers, both men and women, and many concubines, the delight of the sons of Adam.

Qoheleth: Thus I became “great.” I surpassed all who were before me in the High City. My wisdom remained with me.

Reader 1: Whatever his eyes desired he did not keep from them. He kept his heart from no pleasure, for he found pleasure in all his toil, and this was the reward for all his toil.

Qoheleth: Then…I considered all my hands had done and the toil I had expended in doing it, and…and…all was vanity. It meant nothing. There was nothing to be gained under the sun.

Reader 2: Thus did Qoheleth the King consider wisdom. And madness. And folly. For what can the man do who comes after the king? Only what has already been done. Then he saw that there is more gain in wisdom than folly, as there is more gain in light than in darkness. The wise man has eyes in his head, but the fool walks in darkness. And yet he perceived that the same event happens to all of them. And he said in his heart:

Qoheleth: What happens to the fool will happen to me also. Why then have I striven to be so very wise? This also then is only hollow. The memory of the clever fades just as quickly as the memory of the fool, since in time we will all have been forgotten. How the wise dies just like the fool! So I hated life, because what is done under the sun was grievous to me, for all is vanity and a striving after the wind.

I hated all my toil in which I labored under the sun, seeing that I must leave it to the man who will come after me, and who knows whether he will be wise or a fool? Yet he will be master of all for which I toiled and used my wisdom under the sun. This also is meaningless. So I turned about and gave my heart up to despair over all the toil of my labors under the sun, because sometimes a person who has toiled with wisdom and knowledge and skill must leave everything to be enjoyed by someone who did not toil for it. This also is meaningless…and a great evil. <rises, impatiently> What has a man from all the toil and striving of heart with which he toils beneath the sun? All his days are full of sorrow. His work is a vexation. Even in the night his heart does not rest. Meaningless!

Reader 1: <answering> There is nothing better for a person than that he should eat and drink and find enjoyment in his toil. This also is from the gods, for apart from that, who can eat or who can have their pleasure?

Reader 2: To the one who pleases them the gods give wisdom and knowledge and joy, but to the sinner they give the business of gathering and collecting, and to give this to the man who pleases the gods.

Qoheleth: Meaningless. It means nothing.

MUSIC II

Congregation: To every thing there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven. A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;  A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.

Qoheleth: What gain has the worker from his toil? I have seen the business which the gods have given to the children of men to be busy with. El has made everything beautiful in its time—he has put eternity into man’s heart, yet so that he cannot find out what the gods have done from the beginning to the end. I have seen that there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live; and that everyone should eat and drink and take pleasure in all his toil. This is the god’s gift to man.

Readers: Whatever God does endures forever; nothing can be added to it, nor anything taken from it. God has done it, so that we might fear him.

Reader 1: That which is, already has been. That which is to be already has been; and God seeks what has been driven away.

Qoheleth: I saw too under the sun than in the place of justice, even there was wickedness—even there in the place of righteousness. I said in my heart, God will judge the righteous and the wicked, for there is a time for every matter and for every work. I said in my heart about the sons of men that God is testing them so they may see that they themselves are but beasts. For what happens to the children of man and what happens to the beasts is the same; as one dies, so dies the other. They all have the same breath, and man has no advantage over the beasts, for all is meaningless.

Congregation: All go to one place. All are from dust, and to dust all return.

Reader 2: Who knows whether the spirit of man goes upward and the spirit of the beast goes down into the earth?

Qoheleth: So I saw that there is nothing better than that a man should be happy in his work, for that is his lot. Who can bring him to see what shall be after him? Again I saw all the oppressions that are done under the sun. And behold, the tears of the oppressed…they had no one to comfort them! On the side of their oppressors there was power…and there was no one to comfort the oppressed. And I thought the dead who are already dead more fortunate than the living who are still alive. <growing impassioned> But better than both is he who has not yet been and has not seen the evil deeds that are done under the sun. I saw that all toil and all skill in work comes from a man’s envy of his neighbor. This also is vanity and a waste of breath. The food folds his hands and eats his own flesh.

Reader 1: Better a handful of quietness than two hands full of toil and a striving after the wind.

Qoheleth: Again, I saw vanity under the sun: one person who has no one else, either son or brother, yet there is no end to all his toil, and his eyes are never satisfied with riches, so that he never asks--

Reader 2: “For whom am I toiling and depriving myself of pleasure?”

Qoheleth: This also is vanity and an unhappy business.

Congregation: Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow. But woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up! Again, if two lie together, they keep warm, but how can one keep warm alone? And though a man might prevail against one who is alone, two will withstand him—a threefold cord is not quickly broken.

Reader 1: Better was a poor and wise youth than an old and foolish king who no longer knew how to take advice. For he went from prison to the throne, though in his own kingdom he had been born poor.

Qoheleth: I saw all the living who move about under the sun, along with that youth who was to stand in the king’s place. There was no end to all the people, all of whom he led. Yet those who come later will not rejoice in him. Surely this also is vanity and a striving after the wind.

MUSIC III

Reader 2: Guard your steps when you go the house of the god. Drawing near to listen is better than offering the sacrifice of fools, for they do not know that they are doing evil. Be not rash with your mouth, nor let your heart be hasty to utter a word before the gods, for they are in heaven and you are on earth. Therefore let your words be few. For a vision comes with much concern, but a fool’s voice with many words.

Reader 1: When you make a vow to the god, do not delay paying it, for he has no pleasure in fools. Pay what you vow. It is better that you should not vow than that you should vow and not pay. Let not your mouth lead you into sin, and do not say before the messenger that it was a mistake. Why should the gods be angry at your voice and destroy the work of your hands? For when dreams increase and words grow many, there is vanity, but the gods are those which you must fear.

Reader 2: If you see in a province the oppression of the poor and the violation of justice and righteousness, do not be amazed at the matter, for the high official is watched by a higher one, and there are yet higher ones over them. But this is gain for a land in every way; a king committed to profitable fields.

Reader 1: He who loves money will not be satisfied with money, nor he who loves wealth with his income, this also is meaningless. When goods increase, they increase who eat them, and what advantage has their owner but to see them with his eyes? Sweet is the sleep of a laborer whether he eats little or much, but the full stomach of the rich will not let him sleep.

Qoheleth: There is a grievous evil that I have seen under the sun: riches were kept by their owner to his hurt and those riches were lost in a bad venture. And he is the father of a son, but he has nothing in his hand. As he came from his mother’s womb he shall go again, naked as he came, and shall take nothing for his toil that he may carry away in his hand. This also is a grievous evil; just as he came, so shall he go and what gain is there to him who toils for nothing? Moreover, all his days he eats in darkness in much vexation and sickness and anger. Behold, what I have seen to be good and fitting is to eat and drink and be merry in all the toil with which one labors under the sun the few days of his life that the gods have given him, for this is his lot. Everyone likewise to whom the gods have given wealth and possessions and power to enjoy them. To accept one’s lot and rejoice in one’s toil—this is the gift of God. For he will not much remember the days of his life because the gods keep him occupied with joy in his heart. <pauses> There is an evil that I have seen under the sun, and it lies heavy on the children of men:

Reader 2: A man to whom the gods give wealth, possessions, and honor so that he lacks nothing of all that he desires, yet to the gods do not give him power to enjoy them, but a stranger enjoys them.

Qoheleth: This is meaningless, a great evil.

Reader 1: If a man fathers a hundred children and lives many years, so that the days of his years are many, but his soul is not satisfied with life’s good things, and he also has no burial, a stillborn child is better off than he. For it comes in vanity and goes in darkness, and in darkness its name is covered. Moreover, it has not seen the sun or known anything, yet it finds rest rather than he. Even though he should live a thousand years twice over, yet enjoy no good--

Reader 1 and Qoheleth: Do not all things go to the same place?

Reader 2: All the toil of man is for his mouth, yet his appetite is not satisfied. For what advantage has the wise man over the fool? And what does the poor man have who knows how to conduct himself before the living? What your eyes see in front of you is better than your wandering appetite desires.

Qoheleth: This also is a vanity and a striving after the wind. Whatever has come to be has already been named, and it is known what man is, and that he is not able to dispute with one stronger than he. The more words, the more meaningless, and what is the advantage to anyone? For who knows what is good for someone while he lives the few days of his vain life, which he passes through like a shadow? Who can tell a man what will be after him under the sun?

MUSIC IV

Congregation: A good name is better than precious perfume, and the day of death is better than the day of birth. It is better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting, for this is the end of all mankind, and the living must lay it to heart. Sorrow is better than laughter, for by sadness of face the heart is made glad. The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning, but the heart of fools is in the house of mirth. It is better for a man to hear the rebuke of the wise than to hear the song of fools. For as the crackling of thorns under a pot, so is the laughter of fool; this also is meaningless. Surely oppression drives the wise into madness, and a bribe corrupts the heart. Better is the end of a thing than its beginning, and the patient in spirit are better than the proud in spirit. Be not quick in your spirit to anger, for anger lodges in the heart of fools. Say not ‘Why were the former days better than these?’ For it is not from wisdom that you ask this. Wisdom is good with an inheritance, an advantage to those who see the sun. For the protection of wisdom is like the protection of money, and the advantage of knowledge is that wisdom preserves the life of him who has it. Consider the work of God: who can make straight what he has made crooked?

Reader 1: In the day of prosperity be joyful, and in the day of adversity consider: the gods have made the one as well as the other, so that none shall ever learn what will come next.

Qoheleth: In my ephemeral life I have seen all things. There is a good man who dies in his doing justice—and there is a wicked man who prolongs his life in his evildoing. Don’t be overly good, and don’t make yourself too wise. Why should you destroy yourself? Be not overly wicked, nor be a fool. Why should you die before your time? It is good that you should grasp this, and from that truth do not withhold your hand, for the one who fears the gods shall escape both.

Reader 2: Wisdom gives strength to the wise man more than ten mighty men strengthen a city.

Reader 1: Surely there is no “good” man on earth who does good and never sins.

Reader 2: Do not take to heart all the things that people say, lest you hear your servant cursing you. Your heart knows that many times you yourself have cursed others.

Qoheleth: All this I have tested by wisdom. I said, “I will be wise.” But it was far from me. That which has been is far off, and deep, very deep; who can find it out? I turned my heart to know and to search out, and to seek wisdom, and the scheme of things, and to know the wickedness of folly and the foolishness that is madness. And I find something more bitter than death:

Reader 1: The woman. The woman whose heart is snares and nets, and whose hands are fetters.

Qoheleth: He who pleases the gods escapes her, but the sinner is taken by her.

Reader 2: Qoheleth says this is what he found, while adding one thing to another to find the scheme of things. His soul has searched repeatedly, but he has not found her. One man among a thousand he has says he found, but a woman among all these he found not.

Qoheleth: This only I found, that the gods made man upright, but they have sought out many schemes.

MUSIC V

Congregation: Who is like the wise man? And who knoweth the interpretation of a thing? A man’s wisdom maketh his face to shine, and the hardness of his face is changed.

Reader 1: I say: Keep the king’s command, because of God’s oath to him. Be not hasty to go from his presence. Do not take your stand in an evil cause, for he does whatever he pleases. For the word of the king is supreme, and who may say to him, “What are you doing?” Whoever keeps a command will know no evil thing, and the wise heart will know the proper time, and the just way. For there is a time and way for everything, although man’s trouble lies heavy on him. For he does not know what shall be-- who can say what shall be? No mortal has power to retain his life, or power over the day of death. There is no discharge from war, nor will wickedness save those who are given to it.

Qoheleth: All this I saw while considering all which is done under the sun, when man had power over man to his hurt. Then I saw the wicked buried. They used to go in and out of the holy places and were praised in my city where they had done such things. This also is meaningless. Because the sentence against an evil deed is not executed speedily, the heart of the children of men is fully set to do evil.

Reader 2: Though a sinner does evil a hundred times and prolongs his life, yet I know that it will be well with those who fear the gods, because they are reverent in their presence. But it will not be well with the wicked, neither will he prolong his days like a shadow, because he does not fear the gods.

Qoheleth: How does this happen on the earth, that there are good people who receive what is due to the wicked, and there are wicked people who get what the good deserve?. I say this also is an absurdity. But I commend joy, for man has nothing better under the sun but to eat, and to drink, and to be merry, for this will go with him in his labor through the days of his life which the gods have given him under the sun. <As if confessing> When I studied to know wisdom, and to see the business that is done on earth, how neither day nor night do one’s eyes see sleep, then I saw all the work of the gods, that man… <grasping>

Reader 1:<completing his thought>…he cannot find out the work that is done under the sun. However much a man may toil in seeking, he will not find it out. Even though a wise man claims to know, he cannot find it out.

Reader 2: All this Qoheleth laid to heart, examining it all, how the righteous and the wise and their deeds are in the hands of God. Whether it is love or hate, a man cannot know; both are before him. It is the same for all, since the same thing happens to the righteous and the wicked, to the good and the evil, to the clean and the unclean, to him that sacrifices and him who does not sacrifice. As the good one is, so is the sinner, and he who keeps his oath is as he who breaks his oath.

Qoheleth: This is the evil in all that is done under the sun, that the same thing comes to all of us. The hearts of the children of men are filled with evil, and lies are in their hearts while they live…and after that they go to the dead. But he who is joined with the living has hope, for a living dog is better than a dead lion. But the living know that we will die…and the dead know nothing. They have no more reward, and the memory of them is forgotten. Their loves and their hate and their envy have already perished, and forever they have no more share in all that is done under the sun.

Congregation: Go your way, eat your bread with joy, and drink your wine with a merry heart, for God now accepteth thy works. Let your garments be always clean. Let your head lack no ointment. Live joyfully with the wife whom you love, all the days of your “meaningless” life that he has given you under the sun, because that is your portion in life and your toil at which you toil under the sun. Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might, for there is no work or thought or knowledge or wisdom in Sheol, to which you are going.

Qoheleth: I saw under the sun the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor bread to the wise, nor riches to men of understanding, nor favor to men of skill, but time and chance happeneth to them all.

Reader 1: Like fish that are taken in an evil net, and like birds that are caught in a snare, so the children of men are snared at an evil time, when suddenly it falls upon them.

Reader 2: I have seen this wisdom under the sun, and it seemed great to me. There was a little city with a few men in it, and a great king came against it and besieged it, building great siegeworks against it. But there was found in it a poor, wise man, and he by his wisdom delivered the city. No one yet remembers that poor man. But I say that wisdom is better than might, though the poor man’s wisdom is despised and his words are not heard. The words of the wise heard in quiet are better than the shouting of a ruler among fools. Wisdom is better than weapons of war, but one sinner destroys much good.

Reader 1: Dead flies make the perfumer’s ointment give off a stench; so a little folly outweighs wisdom and honor. A wise man’s heart inclines him to the right, but a fool’s heart to the left. Even when the fool walks on the road, he lacks sense, and he shows himself a fool to everyone. If the anger of the ruler rises against you, do not leave your place, for calmness will lay great offenses to rest.

Qoheleth: I have seen this evil under the sun, error coming from the ruler himself. Folly is set in many high places, and the rich sit in a low place. Why have I seen slaves on horses, and princes walking the ground like slaves?

Congregation: He who digs a pit may fall into it, and a serpent may bite him who breaks through a wall. He who quarries stones may be hurt by them, and he who splits logs is endangered by them. If the iron is blunt, and one does not sharpen the edge, he must use more strength, but wisdom helps one to succeed. If the serpent bites before it is charmed, there is no advantage to the charmer.

Reader 2: The words of a wise man’s mouth win him favor, but the lips of a fool consume him. His talk is folly from the beginning, and the end of his talk is evil insanity. A fool multiplies words, though no man knows what shall yet be, and who can say what shall be after him? The toil of a fool wearies him, for he does not know the way to the city.

Reader 1: Woe to you, O land, when your king is a child, and your princes feast in the morning. Happy are you, O land, when your king is a well-born son, and your princes feast at the proper time, for strength, and not for drunkenness. Through sloth the roof sinks in, and through indolence the house leaks.

Reader 2: Bread is made for laughter, and wine gladdens life, and money answers everything. Even in your thoughts, do not curse the king, nor in your bedroom curse the rich, for a bird of the air will carry your voice, or some flitting thing will whisper the matter…

Congregation: Cast your bread upon the waters for you will find it after many days. Give a portion to seven, or even to eight, for you know not what disaster may fall upon the land. If the clouds are full of rain, they empty themselves on the earth, and if a tree falls, whether to the south or to north, in the place where it falls, there will it lie. He will never sow who waits for some sign, and he who watches heaven will not reap.

Qoheleth: As you do not know the way the soul comes to the secrets of a pregnant woman’s womb, so you do not know the work of Elohim, who maketh all things. In the morning, plant your garden, and at evening withhold not your hand, for you do not know which will prosper, this or that, or whether both alike will be good. Light is sweet, and it is pleasant for the eyes to see the sun. So if a person lives many years, let him rejoice in them all; but let him remember that the days of darkness will be many. All that comes is vanity. <Rises, addresses Reader 1> Rejoice, you young men, in your youth, and let your heart cheer you in the days of your youth. Walk in the ways of your heart and the sight of your eyes. But know that for all these things the gods will bring you into judgment. Let not your hearts be troubled, and put away pain from your body, for youth and the dawn of life…vanity. <Begins to slowly walk away>

Congregation: Remember also your Creator in the days of your youth, before the evil days come and the years draw near of which you will say, “I have no pleasure in them”; before the sun and the light and the moon and the stars are darkened and the clouds return after rain, in the day when the keepers of the house tremble and the strong men are bent, and those who look through the windows are dimmed, and the doors on the street are shut—when the sound of grinding is low, and one rises up at the sound of a bird, and all the daughters of are brought low—they are afraid, also of what is high, and terrors are in the way; the almond tree blossoms, the locust drags itself along, and desire fails, because man is going to his eternal home, and the mourners go about the streets—before the silver cord is snapped, or the golden bowl is broken, or the pitcher is shattered at the fountain, or the wheel broken at the cistern, and the dust returns to dust as it was, and the spirit returns to the god who gave it.

Qoheleth: Meaningless, all is meaningless. <exits>

Reader 1: Besides being wise, Qoheleth also taught the people knowledge, weighing and studying and arranging many proverbs with great care. Qoheleth sought to find words of delight, and justly he wrote words of truth.

Reader 2: The words of the wise are like goads, and like nails firmly fixed are the collected sayings: they are given by one Shepherd. O child, beware of anything beyond these. Of making many books there is no end, and much study is a weariness to the flesh.

Readers and Congregation: The end of the matter; all has been heard. Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man. For God will bring every deed into judgment, with every secret thing, whether good or evil.

SILENCE

53/100

The dump trucks are back. We had a several-month respite from Dump Truck Games as practiced by James and Owen, but the games are back on now. We think maybe Grandma Davis' presence reminded them. The first dump truck was either a birthday or a Christmas present for James when he was about two. He liked it just fine and played with it from time to time, mostly using it as a transport for George and Steven.
Then Owen was born, and then Owen was mobile, and then Owen discovered James' dump truck. That was about when the single dump truck became very important to James. He would load his ever-growing menagerie of friends and toys and prizes into the back of the truck and race it around at high speeds, crashing into walls, chairs, and people willy-nilly. There's something about pushing a wheeled object that's able to be grasped conveniently around your center of gravity which makes you feel like you're running faster than you could otherwise go while upright. James relished this.
And using the dump truck made staying upright easier for Owen the toddler, when he was able to get ahold of the dump truck unattended. Owen even, on a few gloriously mischievous occasions, found the dump truck unattended and still packed full of James' most precious possessions. In Owen's defense, he's never been the type of kid to steal his older brother's stuff and to hide it or run off with it. The pleasure of tormenting James with the theft has always been far more appealing than the actual use or enjoyment of the stolen goods.
An uneasy balance was eventually struck wherein both boys would play with the truck--it was fun to take turns ramming it around--but James would always claim final ownership in disputes, and inevitably Owen would be pushing around some less desirable wheeled toy while he chased after his dump-truck pushing older brother.
It was Grandma and Grandpa Davis who came to Owen's rescue. They bought him his own (identical) dump truck for our 2016 beach trip. Any sun-kissed vacationer who hoped to have a peaceful walk to the seashore amid sounds of surf and far-off seagull cries would have to deal with the two little boys rattling their dump trucks as noisily as possible over sidewalk, boardwalk, asphalt, rocky gravel, and finally into the hot sand of the beach edge. (At this part Owen would always cry because he couldn't push his any further. I would carry him in one arm and his dump truck in the other to the water's edge.)
Those dump trucks bought us a lot of peace, if not quiet, that week. They filled them with wet sand, dry sand, interesting rocks and shells, and, of course, all manner of litter and garbage. When the trucks returned home, slightly sandy, but still in fine shape, it was open season for dump truck races. The best part about racing dump trucks inside the house, as far as I can tell, is the noise. Two little boys can make a spectacular racket when they run them around, and the sounds get even better when you crash into things. Into each other, for example? A hilarious, clang, crunch, and thud. Into a tower of blocks? A volley of wooden pieces onto the hardwood floor. Into a table leg or chair? A great groan of the chair leg scraping several inches out of position across the (expensive) hardwood. Into the sofa? An understated 'thud' of metal against fabric-covered padding. Into a human adult? A gasp of pain and an impatient exhale, followed by a 'watch where you're going' or 'can't you see that I have coffee?' Even a shelf of books makes a great noise, because if the books are stacked messily enough, a whole heap of them will collapse onto the floor upon impact.
For this season the dump trucks were beloved by our boys, but they were not our favorite game.
And we waited them out, and then slowly the Dump Truck Game phase gave way to playing board games or the playground across the street, or LEGOS, or any number of other activities, and we didn't remind them of the dump trucks when they whined at us about having nothing to do. They sat in plain sight but unseen beside their bunkbeds.
But now they're back. Felix, from his perch in the downstairs swing, can only look about in startled confusion at the crashing noises from the next room or the sound of wheels rattling past him. Its no longer safe to set beverages down on end tables. I don't leave my gig bag out on the floor any more.
The dump trucks are back.
And imagine when we have to get a THIRD truck.




As a special bonus note, I am in Syracuse today and typing this up on a public library computer, because I forgot my phone at home. When I realized this (and it was already to late to turn around), I thought that perhaps today would be a good opportunity to take a break from the constant distraction of having an iPhone. That's been okay. (I guess.) But I'm sorry if anyone urgently needs to get ahold of me, because I can't even check my email. I don't remember my password and it's only written down...on my phone.


Imagine when we get a third one.

52/100

Ways my kids have made messes today:

Tackling each other into piles of freshly folded laundry
Picking up handfuls of grass and dropping them into their kiddie pool (Grass soup)
Bringing in handfuls of grass to "wipe their feet with" before going inside
Tracking in muddy/grassy/wet feet through the kitchen on the way to the bathroom
Forgoing the bathroom altogether and just standing in the garage, peeing on the concrete (Owen)
Bringing a handful of dirt into their bedroom, them slowly stomping it into smaller pieces
Breaking all of their crayons into small pieces
Taking pieces of newspapers and printer paper and cutting them up into confetti-sized bits in the library for no apparent purpose
Yanking all the books around the one book they want off the shelf into a big pile on the floor, and then leaving all the books on the floor
Filling up plastic baggies full of water and throwing them against things
Running the powder room sink until it nearly overflows while they "wash their hands"
Playing in the ashes and cinders of the firepit
Touching their own poop (Owen)
Pulling of long sections of toilet paper to use as capes
Pulling handfuls of dirt out of the houseplants
Pulling handfuls of dirt out of the diorama we made for homeschool
Bringing in additional handfuls of dirt and stones from outside to add to the diorama we made for homeschool
Walking around in the basement in sockfeet/barefeet, then tracking it back upstairs into the kitchen
Sloshing water out of the bathtub
Searching for clothes in their dresser by pulling out anything that might be on top of the desired item/then leaving it on the floor
Using clothing as a napkin (Owen)
Using his own hair as a napkin (Owen)
Using my shirt as a kleenex (James and Owen)
Bringing a bucket full of legos into our bedroom and leaving them on the floor
Pouring themselves cups of water and then knocking them over with their elbows
Pulling all of the cushions and pillows off the couch
Refusing to eat the cone part of the ice cream cone, just sticking as much of their face as will fit inside
Noise pollution
Trailing any pairs of earbuds they might find behind them like a tail
Eating huge bites of an apple, then needing to spit it out into someone's hand. (Or onto the table)
Repeated changes from outside clothes to tiger costumes without ever putting clothes away/in the hamper
Spitting up on shoulders/down fronts/down backs (Felix)

Bonus quote: "YES! The Iron Giant is mine favorite AND thcary!"

51/100

I.
“Wemme tell you a story. Onceuponatime, when I was widdle, I had a widdle bruvver, and his name was Uncle Woocas. And I had a pond, and there was a BEAR. And it was SCARY! But I fighted him wiv my sword and I knocked him down, and the bear...ate some garbage!”
“Wemme tell you a story. Onceuponatime, when Mommy was pregnant wiv Fewix, I had a baby in MY tummy, and it kicked my tummy and twied to knock my coffee cup down.”
James: “Owen, sometimes I think that you are not telling the truth.”
“No, no! Wemme tell you a story. Onceuponatime when I was widdle I went to wiv on the MOON! And do you know what was there? Dinosaurs! And they tried to eat me, and I wode in my time machine!”
James: “No you didn’t.”

II.
Friendly Neighbor: “Hi Owen, are you out for a jog with your Daddy?”
Owen: “Yes, and today is mine BURFDAY!”
Friendly Neighbor: “It is? Well, happy birthday!”
Me: “It isn’t.”
Friendly Neighbor: “Well, when is your birthday?”
Owen: “In OCTOBER!”
Friendly Neighbor: “And how old are you going to be?”
Owen: “I’m going to be FIVE!”
Me: “Nope.”
Friendly Neighbor: “Are you going to be two?”
Owen: <holds up three fingers and grins>

50/100

I.
J: "I like this sign because it says to 'speak gently.' Do you know who we know that is SO good at speaking gently?"
James: "Who?"
J: "Nama is so good at speaking gently. She always thinks about her words before she says them, and she always says them in a very gentle voice."
Owen, cheerfully: "I don't!"

II.
At the liquor store
Lady in the line ahead of us: "Oh, look at this sweet little guy. How old is he?"
Me: "He is ten weeks."
James, not watching where he is walking, comes out from behind the lady, who nearly trips over him
Lady: "Oh, my! You surprised me!"
Owen, hopping out from behind a case of wine, in a tiger costume: "ROOARRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!"

49/100

"Daddy, tell me a story from when you were little!"

This is a common request at the breakfast table now. Actually, it usually goes like this:

"Daddy, tell me a story from when you were little and Uncle Lucas was little and you had a pond!"

Owen is far more interested in hearing the various episodes of my childhood than James was at his age. So I tell him stories of adventures, clubs, scrapes, heroics, and near-misses, and at the end of each tale he always insists "and ANOTHER one!"

Often, though, having heard the story of Martha and the bear, he'll follow up the end of a story about breaking a window with a soccer ball or tipping a canoe over by asking "and then did the bear come?" I think he's a little disappointed that Martha's bear doesn't play a larger role in my childhood as a whole.

I think he has grasped the idea that the versions of myself and his uncles that appear in these stories were, in fact, little children, and he is spellbound by the idea of having lots of brothers to wrestle with, a big backyard for football and tag, woods to the North and the South, trees to climb, ponds to swim in, and a hedgerow. He usually wants more stories than I can remember in a single sitting, so if anyone does remember any particularly good County House Road tales, Owen would be happy to hear them.

And James is interested, too. As a matter of fact, he was drawn into a story I was telling Owen the other day about when I was in Kindergarten and I was terribly upset because I couldn't find my backpack anywhere and my Mommy and Daddy were laughing at me instead of helping me to find it, and I couldn't go to school without my backpack and the bus was going to be here any minute! (It turned out it was on my back the whole time.) James nodded along and asked whether I felt bad that people were laughing at me even though I was looking for it very hard. He's sympathetic to the frustration of not being taken seriously when you take yourself VERY seriously.

Owen was just disappointed that the bear didn't show up.

48/100

I. It's no secret that James has needed his "lovies" with a desperate intensity ever since he was little. First it was Steven Bear, and then George. There was a binky in there for a while too, and Thomas the train and Lightning McQueen have been necessities as well from time to time. We bought Owen his own Curious George just to keep him from grabbing James' all the time. I'm not sure that either of us thought he would get attached to it. But Owen loves "Dee" (from back when he couldn't pronounce "George") and he's been his unquestioned favorite bedtime friend. Still, even though he goes most places with Owen, it's never a big deal for Dee to be left home when we go out for groceries or to stay upstairs in bed for an entire morning. James would not have been able to handle these things, but Owen is just sort of less intense about everything than his older brother.

We couldn't find Dee last week. The first night, Owen took it in stride. He asked for him when it was time for bed. I told him that I couldn't find him anywhere in his room or in his bed, that I would look for him downstairs and bring him up if I found him. This was fine by Owen, and he went to bed without complaining. I looked through the downstairs and didn't find anything. The next day I don't think I thought about Dee again until bedtime. Owen asked for him again, and I said that I still hadn't found him, but this time I would really look hard.

I scoured the van, the closets, and looked under all the furniture. I went down to the basement and looked in the toy shopping cart that Owen likes to push him around in. I looked in the laundry baskets and behind books on the bookshelves. Neither J or I could find anything.

The next day we searched for real. I walked over to the neighboring playground and looked under the slides where the boys make "forts." When I was out running errands I stopped at the Wegmans' lost and found and asked if any stuffed animals had showed up. I made a note to call the other Wegmans that we'd been to that week and scratched my head in frustration. But Owen was nonplussed by it all. He didn't bring Dee up and didn't seem to miss him. He didn't even ask for him at bedtime that night.

The next day was an effort to find Dee, but really it was the long-delayed project of cleaning their room. "He has to be in here" we told each other. You couldn't see their floor for the mess, and we were sure he would turn up, and even bribed Owen into helping with the promise of looking for Dee while we did.

Nothing. The room looked great when we were done, and Owen asked at the end if any of us had seen Dee, but he didn't seem upset at all that we hadn't. He slept without him for another night without being bothered by it, and then the next day J got a message from our Kylie. It was Abby, and she was holding up a dirty monkey in a yellow shirt asking "Is this Owen's?" She quickly showed it to me, and then we called Owen over. I was expecting the same indifferent reaction. He saw his George and burst into tears.

It was a good night when J came back with him and we laid him in the arms of a sleeping Owen.

II.

James and Owen watched a bit of Fantasia the other day, the old/original one. They were both completely gassed out from having slept (but really, not slept) in the tent (in the living room) the night before. There was an hour left till bedtime, and we treated them to a couple scenes from a movie. I skipped the opening Toccata and Fugue sequence, and they watched a couple of the dances from Nutcracker. They didn't seem particularly interested, but were pleasantly spaced out on the couch. Then I remembered about the Rite of Spring animation.
"Do you guys want to see some dinosaurs?"
"Oh, yes!"
"I WUV dinosaurs!"
I skipped ahead. After a lot of initial complaining about "Where are the dinosaurs?"--there is a long opening sequence depicting the earth being formed--they started to get hooked, and when the dinosaurs came out they were both completely wide eyed. I had forgotten both how violent that cartoon is, and how explicitly it tells the story of evolution through chance and random cosmic upheaval. I wondered if any of it would stick to the next day.

It did. Owen woke up talking about how the dinosaurs could hear something. He'd then pretend to listen, and declare "It's a DINOSAURUS WEX!" And he'd run around shrieking and pretending to fight. James, on the other hand, declared that he was going to make a book of the movie. And he did. He drew scene by scene pictures of galaxies forming, nebulous clouds of gas becoming planets, comets flashing through space, violent eruptions of lava from the earth's volcanoes, amoeba-like creatures floating in the water, primitive undersea life, and then the entire dinosaur sequence. He stopped at one point and in near-panic declared "OH NO! I forgot about the part with the pterodactyls!" He even made the bit with the dinosaurs turning into skeletons at the end.

Oh, and they must have watched a little bit of the Beethoven Six sequence with Zeus, because he also made himself a bunch of paper lightning bolts that he was using to smite Owen.

47/100

The second day of 1st grade. Still in pajamas, today's schoolwork done, in his G.R.O.S.S. treehouse with Hobbes and George. This was followed by a snuggling party. "A snuggling party is when you have a nice, quiet morning and you sit in a comfy chair with your friends and read books and be happy."

46/100

I was hoping to do a blog while the kids were sleeping, but the internet is down and J is also sleeping. I'd have to wake her up to get back behind the couch to the router, and that hardly seems fair, even for a properly written blog with full-color pictures. So instead I'll tap out an improper blog while sitting at my desk, which was clean this morning but is now littered with a morning's worth of well-intentioned projects that started out promisingly but were left unfinished because my attention was required elsewhere to sort out a dump truck dispute or to flip a load of laundry.

We were going to visit the zoo today, but the whole family was in a haze before the day even started. Our veteran parenting move this week was putting a zoo date on the calendar but choosing not to tell the kids about it, just in case we decided that it was more important to stay at home on our pajamas than to watch the elephants. After a full weekend of church and a trip to Albion, the elephants never stood a chance. And no one was upset at us, because we broke no spoken promises.

The folder of our exercise DVDs lies open on my desk. We were going to exercise this morning, because the kids would definitely be able to entertain themselves while we did a short 20-minute workout. This turned out to be not quite so straightforward as we had thought, so we were going to exercise as soon as they were all down for naps. But Felix started crying as soon as we had shut the other two in their rooms, so we were going to exercise as soon as he had eaten and been assuaged. But then J was having nasty allergies and she took a Claritin, and she was just going to nap for a thirty minutes, and then her alarm would go off and we would exercise then. And that was about an hour and half ago, so I can't really say what the forecast for exercise is.

There is a lab slip on my desk as well, which J is supposed to complete before her next physical. I don't know which labs she can use to do her blood work, because we don't have the same insurance. And I was on the phone with her insurance for a half hour this morning getting through the automated menu and then trying to figure out with a supposedly living human being whether and where she could get an eye exam. Then there were two more phone calls, and lots of waiting on hold while Felix screamed his lungs out, and I just don't have it in me to interact with the insurance world again for at least 24 hours.

And there's plenty more on my desk--a zoom recorder, a Sunday School registration form, and a bank bill and a dentist's office registration packet, but Felix is crying again, and I hear Owen. So I think that's the end of this blog and this nap.

45/100

Felix screaming. Always screaming.

Trying to make ham and cheese sandwiches one handed.

Owen doesn't like swiss cheese.

I forgot to put mustard on James'.

More of Felix screaming.

The feta cheese fell and spilled all over the bottom of the fridge.

Boys, get in the van.

More of Felix crying.

A traffic jam.

Owen wants the windows down.

James wants the windows up.

Felix just wants to cry.

No, I can't carry you, I'm carrying Felix.

Owen, do you have to go potty?

Boys, don't wrestle on top of the big rocks.

Boys, get out of the flower beds.

Seriously, Owen, you can't try to push James off that rock. Do you need to got potty yet?

Yes, you can play on the playground.

Owen, did you poop in your diaper?

Wait, is that poop on your fingers?

Is that...on your face...?

Don't. Touch. Anything.

We're getting back in the van.

The windows are staying rolled up.

More of Felix screaming.

No, I can't carry you, I'm carrying Felix.

Straight up to the tub, don't touch anything or sit on anything on the way.

No, stop putting your hand in it and let me get it cleaned off.

More of Felix screaming.

Who is getting out first?

Nope, sit on the potty before we put your pajamas.

Wait, wait...come back and brush your teeth before you go out of the bathroom.

No, we can't play outside anymore, it's bedtime.

Okay, Felix. It's okay, I can pick you up now.

The warm damp of spit-up, lots of it, rolling down my back.

44/100

I recently finished my big summer trumpet project, which was the rough equivalent of reading through the Bible in a year--I played through the entire Arban book. The Arban book, which is a big red 350 page French trumpet method published in 1864, is such a good practice tool that it's been stolen for trombone, euphonium, and tuba as well. (French horns are too snobby to use anything they acquired secondhand.) In fact, my first exposure to the Arban book was to a bass clef euphonium copy while digging through my Grandpa Dudley's stack of parlor sheet music. I eventually bought my own copy from the local music store, brought it home, and immediately attempted to practice all of the hardest parts (i.e., Carnival of Venice and anything that looked like it went above the staff) ignorantly and with little success.

I eventually received some more nuanced direction for using the book from college teachers, but it was always as supplementary material to lots of other etude books, and it wasn't until I started doing some college-level teaching myself that I really explored some of the more obscure sections of the book. The Arban book is sort of the one thing that you can be sure a freshman will walk in with, so it became my de facto source of general practice prescriptions. Do they need low articulation work? Start on page 32 and play it down the octave. Flexibility? Page 125. Transposition? Open up to the Art of Phrasing section and bring in the first five tunes up a step, down a step, and down a half-step for next week. Multiple tonguing? Find page 155, and be sure to use your metronome.

I knew certain pages and chapters very well, but I don't think I'd ever played some of the early "introductory" materials, or very much of the "ornaments" chapter. I set myself up with a schedule to play through everything in the entire method over the course of about thirty days. First Studies, Slurring, Scales, Ornaments, "Advanced Studies," Tonguing, The Art of Phrasing (which is a collection of 150 popular tunes, largely from the operatic literature of the day), the 14 Characteristic Etudes, and the final collection of 12 Fantasies and Aires Varies. I omitted (if anyone is keeping score) the Duet section, because, well, I'm only one person. If anyone wants to come over and read 68 duets in a row in my basement, I suppose then I can technically say that I've completed the whole project.

Trumpet playing has changed quite a big since 1864. For one thing, it's trumpet playing now, instead of cornet playing. Arban's method was about setting up cornet soloists, which is why it's so heavily geared towards ornamentation, multiple tonguing, cadenzas, and vocal phrasing. A modern player has to do a lot of work at the bottom and top (and beyond) of their register to keep up with the demands of the job, not to mention a much more thorough job of minor scales, wider dynamic ranges, and "attack" studies. There are lots of other techniques to develop too, but the great thing about the Arban book is how, for the set of techniques that he chose, he so thoroughly and systematically broke down the process of learning them. If you can teach yourself triple tonguing the way that Arban sets it up, you can teach yourself flutter tonguing or anything else using his principles.

One added challenge to my project was the sheer scarcity of practice time. Not only was I pressed by the usual constraints on practice time (having to save face for evening concerts, tending two energetic boys, keeping the yard mowed and the house standing), but there was a cranky newborn in the mix as well. He was the biggest challenge, and I think that all of the whisper soft playing I did was the most beneficial practicing of the summer.

Here, therefore, is my Complete Arban Routine:

Materials needed:
Arban's Complete Conservatory Method for Trumpet
A Trumpet
A Music Stand
A Pencil
A Metronome
A Human Woman

Step 1: Get the woman pregnant. Wait nine months.
Step 2: Take the newborn down to the basement and strap him onto your chest just below your instrument bell.
Step 3. Systematically play all of the exercises in the Arban Method at the marked tempi with a metronome on but without waking up the sleeping baby.
Note: For an advanced challenge, use an extra-crotchety baby.

43/100

I. An Important Announcement

"Good morning, James! How'd you sleep?"
"Hey, James has an important announcement!"
"Oh, what's that?"
"He has figured out what he's going to be when he grows up!"
"Oh really, what's that? What's your choice?"
"An astronaut!"
"That's a great choice!"
"Yes, I will have a space ship with three seats, one for James, one for George, and one for Hobbes!"

II.

"Aww, Owen, you pooped in your diaper again."
"What you doing?"
"Wiping poop off your butt."
"No you not."
"I sure am."
"No, you wiping poop off mine robot-butt."
"Because you're a robot?"
"You wiping robot poop off mine robot-butt."

42/100

2017 Buffalo Bills Predictions

So it's time once again to register my predictions for the upcoming Buffalo Bills season. In case you don't recall, my 2014 predictions were startlingly accurate. 2015, not so much, and then 2016 wasn't too far off from what actually happened.

QB-I think we all sort of know, deep down, that this is Tyrod Taylor's last year in Buffalo. The fun thing about #5 is that he does something really exciting a couple of times a game, and I hope we'll see a couple of great deep throws or ankle-breaking runs, but he's going to be frustrating and ineffective for far too many stretches, and we're all going to be talking about college QBs by week 5. Nathan Peterman, if he sees the field, is going to look like a poor man's Alex Van Pelt. Seriously, NO ONE should hope for this.

HB-LeSean McCoy, I think, has one more quality year left in him. The biggest question for his season isn't really about what he's doing so much as what the rest of the offense looks like around him. I don't think anyone's going to dropping extra men into coverage to work against the passing offense, and the offensive line looks worse than it did last year. Also, look for lots of dropped passes by fullbacks and reserve tight ends.

WR-Oh, it could be SO bad. Anquan Boldin will be the best interview of the locker room week to week, and one of the biggest liabilities on the field. Jordan Matthews will slowly improve as the season goes on, but don't look to him to either break 1000 yards or lead the team in receiving touchdowns. I'd love to have high hopes for Zay Jones, but we might have forgotten he's on the team by midseason. He seems like the type of guy that will be inactive with an ankle for multiple weeks somewhere along the line. Or did we trade that guy to the Rams? I forget...

OL-Cordy Glenn coming back is probably the most important thing that could happen between now and the regular season. No amount of Jordan Mills or Seantrel Henderson is going to solve the problem that is the right tackle position. Mills and Wood should be unspectacularly fine, and Richie Incognito will say something stupid about women and/or Rex Ryan by season's end. We're all kind of assuming that this is Eric Wood's last year too, right?

DL-This is the year of Marcel. I predict this is perhaps the lone bright spot for the team this year--a standout defensive line that keeps the anemic offense in tantalizingly close games. Shaq Lawson will have far more penalties than positive plays, but Jerry Hughes will look great, and the Dareus/Williams combo will make everyone wish that it wasn't a "wasted year."

LB-The Ramon Humber show. (Seriously, he'll probably be the best looking one of the bunch.) Reggie Ragland won't see the field unless something catastrophic happens, and will eventually get traded away for a 7th round pick in the offseason. Preston Brown will play with all of the determined intensity of someone who's going to get a raise next offseason to play for a better football team in a nicer climate.

DB-It could be even worse than WR. Tre'Davious White might look okay against some weaker competition, but it's going to be a rough year for him. E.J. Gaines will play in 8 games, max, and we're all going to have to steel ourselves for the thought that they're going to use a 2nd round pick on a corner in the draft AGAIN. Poyer will be better than Micah Hyde, but most of the time when any of us pronounce their names it's going to be with an expletive following.

Kicking Teams-Colton Schmidt looks better this year, Steven Hauschka will miss an inexplicable number of extra points. People will wonder whether it's something to do with the field.

Overall: 5-10-1, the tie coming in a battle of epic futility against the Dolphins. (I'd call this one against the Browns, except somehow we don't play them this year.) 3rd place in the AFC East (yes, the Jets are THAT bad), and armed with all of the picks to go get a quarterback next year.

Fun Fact: This time ten years ago I was at Deep Creek Lake with J's family a few days before our wedding, and I was neglecting my packing up because I had a chance to watch a Bills-Titans preseason game. I told J how excited I was to follow the team this year because J.P. Losman was going to lead the team out of an unfeasibly long SEVEN year playoff drought!

41/100

I. Sally (from Cars)

Owen: "Sally is a girl!" (pronounced 'gurwl') "And Sally is a she! And I have him!"

II. Upon Seeing the Stars and Stripes

Owen: "Hey, it's the Magic States flag!"
(We think this is a portmanteau of Magic School Bus and United States flag)

III. Time Machine

James: "This time let's use our Time Machine to crash land into the future!"
Owen: "Will there be dinosaurs?"
James "Dinosaurs are only in the past. Do you wanna come?"
Owen: "Only if there are dinosaurs."

40/100

I don't think I could have asked for a surer sign that James is going to turn out okay than his sudden love of Calvin and Hobbes. It's as if he's finally found a small person who he can relate to--someone who lives in his head most of the time, has incredibly vivid imaginary adventures, is part little boy and part wizened grown-up, and also does hilarious things with snowmen.

His conversations with Owen have certainly become more entertaining since he started working his way through our Calvin collection. A few days ago I found them in the library both sitting in turned around chairs. They were busy in their time machines. I asked them where they were going, and Owen told me that they were going "time machines so we can get filthy rich."

A lot of the content is going over his head, including some of the words. He was telling me about something the other day that I couldn't decipher for any effort, and it turned out to be "transmogrifier." He's also called Hobbes a "hermisynal pishko jungle cat," among other mispronunciations. (This is the problem of reading lots of words in books before you ever hear them pronounced."

There are some drawbacks to Calvin and Hobbes, too. Calvin can be a pretty naughty kid, and James has repeated some things from the strips that we've had to talk to him about. There's a bit more violence and fighting and "killing" than we'd like to see, and some of this has even trickled down to Owen. Owen came up to me after lunch the other day and whisper-confessed that he'd said "I hate this" two times while we were in the art gallery.

But mostly Calvin has been a positive. James has been buried in a book for most of this month, and when he does come out to play it's with spectacular maps and plots. ("Owen, if Felix comes around the side of the house, all of our plans will be RUINED.") Plus, he can never read for too long a stretch, because Owen's new favorite game is "I'm going to steal James' George and run off with it."

39/100

I. Conversation with the Parking Attendant

"You're going to have to go around, sir."
"I'm a musician."
"Sorry, you're going to have to take a bus from the lot."
"Isn't there musician parking?"
"Are you a performer for this concert?"
"Yes."
"Can I see some kind of identification?"
"They just told us to turn in here and that there would be musician parking."
"Can I see your instrument?"
"It's in the backseat. Beside the palm tree."
"You don't look like a performer."
"Well, I still need to change into my suit."
"There have been a bunch of other people that said they were performers."
"Right. I'm part of a brass quintet."
"There have been, like, ten."
"Yeah, I think there's a string quartet playing too."
"Okay, I'm going to let you through, but you need to be real careful."
"I'll do that."

II. Owen's Chair

It's no secret that Owen is a messy eater. He dribbles food all over the table, his clothes, and his wooden table chair. We probably don't clean his chair as often as we should. We recently broke one of our dining room chairs, and I decided I would check to make sure that the hardware was intact on all the others before I threw away the parts of the broken one. I took the booster seat off of Owen's chair and...immediately decided to throw Owen's chair away. The base was in decent shape, so I screwed that into the top of the "broken" chair (the wrong way at first, so it was sloping down, and then the right way the second time) and put the moldy/hairy/food encrusted chair out with our increasingly large pile of trash.

III. Flora

There was a palm tree in my car because we wanted a larger plant in our dining room in our redoubled efforts to simplify and clean up our downstairs. Our family photos are going into the stairwell, all stackable surfaces are getting decluttered, and we've swapped around pantry and cabinet spaces. But without any of that background, it was a spectacular excuse for being able to tell the other trumpet player at the quintet gig that I couldn't give him a ride back to the parking area because I had a palm tree in my car. (He didn't argue his way through security like I did.)

IV. Dinner-time

Me: <using a pizza cutter to slice up Owen's pizza into manageable bites while rocking Felix's bouncy seat with my foot>
J: You're doing some impressive multi-tasking.
Me: Yes, but if I mixed these up then child services would probably get involved pretty quickly.

V. Face-Time with Grandma

J: Grandma's on the phone! Come and say hello!
Owen: Grandma! We have a new baby, and his name is Felix!
Grandma: Oh...yes!
(Grandma had come up and spent a week with Felix after he was born, and we had just spent the past week with Grandma at her house in Pennsylvania.)
Owen: And we have another brother and his name is...JAMES!
James: Grandma, look! I'm a super-hero! Ka-pwing!
<Turns around, displaying a "cape" of toilet paper dangling out of the back of his pajamas>

VI. Calvin and Hobbes

The first thing James "built" from Calvin and Hobbes was a transmogrifier. I don't think he's brave enough to attempt pronouncing it yet, but he requested the leftover box from our new coffee-maker and had it set up in his room (top-down) when we checked on him. I found another couple of books in the basement recently, and he's been enjoying reading Yukon Ho! to himself and out loud to us. Or, as he pronounces it, Yoklum Ho! Also, he taped two chairs together to make a time machine for him and Owen to ride on.

38/100

Owen is having a race. He isn't racing against anyone in particular, he's only making endless laps around the Davis coffee table with his toy motorcycle. The motorcycle is red, therefore one of the crown jewels of the toy bin here at Grandma's house, and it makes a "wrreeeee" siren whenever he presses a button on the side. I think he prefers the siren to an engine noise, because then the operator of the motorcycle and hum an engine noise as he circles the table. It isn't a loud siren, but it pierces downstairs from upstairs, and certainly into Felix's room from where the other boys are sleeping.

Owen was up early this morning. Something about being at Grandma and Grandpa's has given him permission to get out of bed as early as he's awake and I'm frightened he's going to insist on this precedent at home. He opened our door at 6 AM and asked if it was getting-up time yet. When I told him to go back to bed he went downstairs instead, but finding that there were no adults or ready breakfast down there, he returned to our room and started asking for J. I told him that she was asleep on the other side of me, but he didn't believe me and opened the door to Felix's room to look for her there. That got us both out of bed right quickly, and Owen earned himself an hour curled up between us in our bed, which might have been what he was after all along.

James is upstairs, probably arranging toy cars atop the old chest in their room. They are camping out in sleeping bags on the floor this visit, and yesterday James laid in his while J tucked Felix in next to him on his pillow. James still hasn't said terribly much about his baby brother, but he was quietly content to lean on a skinny arm and just look at him for a half hour, trying to make eye contact with him and inspecting his face.

Yesterday we walked them down to a neighbor's pool where we have an open invitation, and after about an hour of floating in the Very Safe pool float with the biggest life jacket on, J coaxed him into the water with just the life jacket. (And a swim noodle.) He made his way out beyond the steps to where he could just barely touch, retreated multiple times, and then came out further. I kept Owen (in the float) back at the other end of the pool and watched as she convinced James to just float in the life jacket and then eventually to kick his feet and paddle out into the deep end. By the end of our time there he was paddling from the deep end to the shallow end just as freely as he pleased.

37/100

These kids are the coolest

Pudding Monster

He dragged the rest of the family into it too

Meeting Uncle Paul and Grandma Joy

New quilt

Hike in West Bay Park

"We'll call it...'The Smith's View!'"

Silas and Roland meet Felix

J and her boys

Back at "The Stream" at Houghton

Irondequoit Creek

Two random chairs in Lucien Morin park. (An adequate snack spot)

Fleix

The displaced middle child

About nine feet up in the air

See-saw at the Panek's lodge

James' preparations for Felix' first night

Owen being gentle

"I think he is the best baby ever."

Owen being Owen

First meeting

"We put some newspapers in the new baby's crib for him to read."

At the old canal lock behind the Pittsford Wegmans

Finding frogs

Looking for adventure

Scaling a dangerous hill

Halfway up

Lunch at the Burger Bar

Streamwalking

More West Bay Park

A "picnic" for snack

"Owen, don't drink the pool water."

The Treasure Map

From the Treasure Hunt

Coins in the Treasure Chest

Food in the Treasure Chest

The moment of excavation

Digging

X marks the spot

Deciphering the map

On the way to the treasure

Not quite how you're supposed to hold the sword

"Look what was in the hole!"

"We found something!"

"Now you are DIRTY!"