Alexander's story II

Alexander's story is finished--it took a pretty tragic turn. Chris, the hero, ended up with an arrow in the soft spot of his head (original illustration by the author, above), and the cyclops ended up winning all the battles. That's the way it goes sometimes.

I thought they only had one eye

My son Alexander (7) is writing a book about a three-eyed cyclops. Believe it or not, I had trouble finding a picture of a three-eyed cyclops, so this one-eyed version will have to do.

I don't want to give anything away, but so far the hero, Chris, has undergone training to fight the monster (which, as a three-eyed cyclops, must appear a monster even to his fellows); for some reason, in the middle of his training, Chris was tricked by his trainer to enter a girls' bathroom--I guess it was to toughen him up for the battle ahead; a princess has died from an arrow shot straight down through the "soft spot" in the top of her head; and the cyclops has "freaked out" because his son and daughter died in battle. In an unexpected plot twist, the daughter turns out to be the very same above-mentioned princess.

That's it so far, but with Alexander there is sure to be more to follow.

A moment of thanks

With the economy in the crapper and all there hasn't been much work for an old carpenter to do. Happy to be framing again. We'll be siding the outside and trimming the inside of this one as well, so thank God for a little bump forward.

Mouse in House

You may have heard we have a few mice in the house; I've spent the last few days trying to kill the little guys. I know it goes against my general stance on kindness to God's creation, but I've read The Plague--they need to know who they're messin' with. I'm leaving this one out as an example to the others.

Unusual discovery

There's an Emperor Penguin in my fridge, perched atop the Gatorade. I'm not sure how he got in there, since in my opinion a penguin (even one as royal as an Emperor-type) would not be able to open the door--I mean, they can't even use their wings to fly, much less open a fridge door. I suspect one of the kids saw him languishing in the warm South Georgia winter weather and gave him access to the top shelf. I'll let him stay awhile until he recovers, provided he leaves my Sam Adams Winter Lager alone.

Peace, good will among men

Today Christ is born of the Virgin in Bethlehem. Today He who knows no beginning now begins to be, and the Word is made flesh. The powers of heaven greatly rejoice, and the earth with mankind makes glad. The Magi offer gifts, the shepherds proclaim the marvel, and we cry aloud without ceasing: Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will among men.

- from Mattins of the Feast of the Nativity of Christ

Merry Christmas, Kala Christougenna, Blessed Feast to all!

Up for air

Yesterday was the last day of classes for this session, which means I have a precious few days of respite. The last 8 weeks were extremely difficult, and this last week especially so. I have been fighting a vicious cold for a week--of course! It was the last week of classes, so why not add a horrible cold to the finals and papers and labs and projects. Wah wah wah. Today I'm feeling some better, but I'm home from work to try to fully recover.

I wish I had some deep spiritual insight into life to offer today, or a new poem, or a powerful quote from a good book I have been reading (yeah, right, like I've had time for any of that!) Even prayer and worship, which normally help me hold things together, have not been as constant as they should be. All I can say is that God has a way of buoying me up though these times by two means: family, and humor. And usually they come as a set. Here's a sample . . .

My nine-year-old son to one of his siblings: "You touch that last cupcake and you'll enter a world of pain." Survival of the fittest.

My seven-year-old son, who had been sick for a few days, was asked if he felt better: "Yeah, except when I stand on my tippy-toes my leg wiggles." . . . uh, okay then . . .

My five-year-old son had tripped on the game controller cord twice in one day. A little later, one of my other sons was telling jokes and asked, "What has four legs but doesn't walk?" The correct answer is a table, or perhaps a chair. My five-year-old sadly replied, of course, "Me." Four legs, son, four legs!

My three-year-old son came into the living-room in tears, saying, "Mom, I need a dwink."
"Why can't you get a drink?"
"Cause I need tea, and Gregory [the baby] is on the fwiderdayder." Really, it's not as bad as it sounds. He can't literally get on the fridge, at least to my knowledge.

My nine-year-old son: "Ewww, there's something floating around in the fishbowl." To which my eleven-year-old daughter (and the fishbowl's owner) replied, "No duh, they're fish." Sometimes you just make it too easy.

My sixteen-year-old daughter, while we were watching Prince Caspian: "That's a really tall midget!" Everything is a matter of perspective, I suppose.

You can't make this stuff up, folks. Large families involve some sacrifice, but the return is one hundred-fold.