Injurious

It's front porch season.  Hallelujah.

While I love how this kind of weather beckons each member of our family outdoors, it also means that our children are finding new and inspired ways to wage war against one another.  

I got a call from Derek while on a run recently.  He wasted no time in saying an incident had occurred, please come home.  Thankfully I was less than a mile from our house, so I was able to dart right home, up the stairs, and into the bathroom, where Atticus was bent over the tub, face covered in blood.

I quickly looked him over, saw the giant goose egg on his head, found the source of the bleeding, and overall decided that the actual wounds were much less concerning than their cause:  Knitting needles, thrown at him by his sister in a fit of pique.  

By the time I got there, she was more upset than he was, yet still managed to inform me between sobs that yes, she had thrown her knitting needles at her brother, but that she never thought they would actually hit him; she had no idea her aim was that good!

Caedmon didn't have much to say about the whole thing, but still maintains that "Atticus deserved it," as he has informed a number of people.

At this point Atticus the Injured has mostly healed, although he had two relatively deep holes in his scalp for days.  No telling on any emotional injuries.  

Speaking of running (were we?), I've found the perfect design for asthmatic runners:

Ideal t-shirt design would also include a little pocket for our inhalers, of course.  

My peonies had a short season this year, and one bush didn't bloom at all.  I still managed to bring a few indoors.

The kaleidoscope container planting at Reiman Gardens has been changed again:

Succulents!

Kaleidoscopic succulents!  

And last but not least, I have finally found the most perfectly thoughtful gift for my sister who, when we were children, couldn't sleep for terror of her china doll, even after it had been removed from her room, her closet, anywhere within crawling-up-onto-her-bed distance.

Baby is angry.

Gifts Beyond Price

We don't make a huge deal out of presents at Christmas- or ever, really- but we do exchange a few things here and there.  This year, some of our favorite gifts were... well, they were interesting.

You know how, every so often, you receive an item that you didn't even know you needed?  I remember my mom giving me my now-treasured Better Homes and Gardens cookbook shortly before I got married, and I had no idea at the time what a great gift it was, how it would turn out to be the cookbook that contained some of our family's very favorite recipes, from Oven Roasted Potatoes to Peanut Butter Cookies to French Silk Pie.  It is simple, and it is the best, amen.

I'm assuming this gift from my sister and brother-in-law will turn out to be very similar.

No doubt in ten or so years Derek and I will be saying to each other, "What did we ever do without our beloved poo pillow?"  Our older two children lose their minds in hysterics every time they see it, while Caedmon still valiantly maintains that it is a chocolate chip with a face.  I should probably mention that we received this gift because when I joined the 21st century a few months ago and finally got a smart phone, I may or may not have insisted on sending a stream of poo emojis (must... resist... the puns coming to mind... do not sink to toilet humor... resist the urge...) to my sister's husband Aaron.  I will say it is very soft and squishy (OH HERE WE GO AGAIN), and perfectly supports my neck while I am typing this.

Speaking of hysterics:

Please note Derek's Christmas gift from one of the boys:  A neon green plastic foot on a strand of twine, which he wore all day with pride.

Yes, they do still make Rock Em Sock Em Robots, and yes, they do still delight boys of all ages.  I'm assuming there are girls our there who also enjoy them; however, our own Adelaide seemed to find little point to a toy whose only goal is to make a plastic head pop up.  She was much happier with her own gift:

This was what she wanted more than anything this year.  Included were verbal instructions from Derek and me to resist any urges to yell "This is a stick-up!" or "Put the money in the bag, and nobody gets hurt!" while wearing it.  Side note:  Do crooks still say, "This is a stick-up?"  Did they ever?  Or is that a phrase that only ever existed in old movies?

We also got the gift of time with various members of our extended family.  At Crisler Christmas, a few of the older girls were helpless against the lure of twin baby girls.

Adelaide and I had similar responses when asked if we wanted to hold one.  Well, kind of.  My response was something along the lines of, "Yes, please!"  Adelaide's was more like, "Is it my turn yet?  How about now?  Now?  Are you done?  When are you going to be done?  When is it going to be my turn?  I want to hold her, too!  How about now?  Gah, Mom, you are such a baby-hog!"  

For the record, she did get a turn.

Since tomorrow begins Epiphany, the tree will finally come down, and all the Christmas things will finally be put away.  Then I'll have the rest of winter to enjoy my paperwhites that are about to bloom, not to mention beautiful snowy runs that look like this at first glance:

Ah, so pretty.

Serene, too.  Don't forget serene.

But actually look like this.

Note the eyelids almost closed to protect against blowing snow.  Not pictured is almost falling every few minutes.  Yay, winter!

Not a Gift-Giving Guide

Because I sometimes like to pretend I have my act together, I have begun Christmas shopping.

Really it has more to do with the fact that gifts are not really my thing, so if I want to enjoy the month of December and my very favorite holiday, I need to get as much of the shopping done as I can now.  Then all I have to do is the gift wrapping- which I LOVE- and somehow tuck it all away without forgetting just where I stashed it.  I am not so good at this.

If you're any store other than the three where I do my regular grocery shopping every week, you only see me a few times a year.  I don't dislike shopping, exactly, but unless I have a specific need, I don't really see the point of even walking through those doors, unless it's to waste time and money, both of which I tend to spend very carefully.  This means I am overly impressed by the things I see most places I go this time of year; displays and items that don't even register with other shoppers have me going "Wow!" and "Neato!" all over them while shaking my head in wonder at all the amazing things that exist these days.  I'm like the Beverly Hillbillies for the first twenty minutes, excited by all the novelty- before becoming overwhelmed by the same and suddenly morphing into Gollum, just wanting to get me and my precious back to my cave.  It's exactly as endearing as you might imagine.

Here's what I got excited over last week while shopping before I scurried back to my hole:

Isn't this neat?  The back is flat, so you can attach it to your wall or ceiling, and plus you'd forever be able to claim that you had quasi-literally given your loved one the moon.  Perhaps also get your recipient a small fish tank that you could gently slosh around so you can pretend your moon exerts gravitational pull.  Just make sure whatever animal you put in the water is hardy enough to take a bit of a beating.

The only problem with this one is that I get that Whitney Houston song stuck in my head every time I look at it- you know, the "I believe that children are our future, teach them well and blah blah blah," one?  Well, that and the problem where any of our kids would most likely cry if this was their Christmas present.  But what a great way to teach kids about carbon footprints and living in a way that's ecologically conscious.

This one's just on here because I need someone to explain it to me.  Why would anyone buy this?  It's handing your kids both the tools and a permission slip to terrorize you.  Completely baffling.


As soon as we walked into Barnes and Noble last Friday, Adelaide and I saw a table stocked with adult coloring books.  (And by "adult" I don't mean they had, um, questionable content or anything, they were just more detailed than children's coloring books.  Just so we're clear.)  We rushed toward it and immediately began coveting our neighbor's coloring books.  It was like preschool all over again.  Only way prettier.

See?

I carried The Time Garden around with me for a good fifteen minutes before reluctantly putting it back.  This is normal bookstore behavior for me.

There were other treasures at B&N, of course:

The New Elephant and Piggie!  Long live Mo Willems!

I've had my eye on on that illustrated Harry Potter since it first came out a month or so ago, but forty bucks for a story I technically already own (albeit without supercoolawesomeamazing illustrations) just isn't happening.  For now.

These things get me all jumped up in anticipation for my birthday in a couple weeks, because I have, naturally, requested to go look around the Brass Armadillo for my birthday date with Derek.  There I anticipate coming across a different manner of treasures than the ones above, but treasures nonetheless:  Goat bells!  Creepy old photographs!  Cast iron squirrel nutcrackers!  Ach, the anticipation is excruciating!

A List

• First, something that's been bothering me:  In a recent post, I stated that tea is nasty.  And I do think some forms of tea are nasty:  unsweetened iced tea, regular black tea, just about any type of tea that tastes like actual tea leaves and hasn't been otherwise flavored.  However.  I drink tea most nights when it's cold outside, but it's this stuff:

Does herbal tea even count?  Are there bona fide tea leaves in herbal tea?  These are the questions that burn through my brain.  I mostly just drink it because it's warming and smells amazing (I spend more time with my face above the mug vigorously inhaling than I do actually drinking) and, with a tiny drizzle of honey, tastes like a treat- a caffeine-free, sugar-free (well, without the honey), everything-free treat.

I feel so much better.  My conscience is once again light as a feather.

• A friend generously gave us a sack of hand-me-down costumes at church last week.

Caedmon has worn that muscle-bound suit for five straight days now.  On Wednesday he ran into the library, tore his coat off, then announced to everyone who was surely just waiting for him to arrive, "IT'S JUST A COSTUME.  These aren't my real muscles.  But I am really Batman."  We went to go have lunch with Adelaide at school Thursday, and he wore the suit "so I can show all the lunch people, if I have time."  This entire post is brought to you courtesy of my procrastination, because that kid needs a bath but I don't yet feel up to wrestling him out of that padded costume he's wearing even now.  Caedmon is very wriggly.

More scenes from his muscle-bound week:

Batman reading about himself with his Daddy, and below, playing Don't Lose Your Head!  

In truth the above photo was a happy accident of perspective; Caedmon was a good three feet away from that sword and this photo catches him mid-stride as he runs through the house and past the sword, gasping for breath.  Derek was... being an over-sized boy playing with a sword, I guess.  Or a fun dad.  Or both.

• I got the best birthday present a couple weeks ago:

My dad got me an Amazon gift card for my birthday back in early December.  Now, I don't know if you know this, but there's a lot of stuff to choose from on Amazon.  It can be the tiniest bit overwhelming.  So I've spent the past month thinking and thinking and then thinking some more, before I finally found it.  A library embosser.

This is a fantastic gift idea for the bookworm in your life.  It can be surprisingly hard to buy an actual book for such people, as they go through them so fast and people's tastes vary so much, but a library embosser allows them to mark their own literary territory, so to speak, so they (hopefully) get all those books they tend to loan out to friends back someday.  Plus it looks pretty dang snazzy for only $20.

The end.

And His Birthday Is Only A Month Away!

You guys.

"My Loving Jesus Doll," courtesy of catholicchild.com

I know I was going to post the list of suggestions we've received in the past on how to combat Atticus's night terrors, but I cannot bring myself to think past the sheer awesomeness you see above.  

First of all, your suggestions via yesterday's comments were terrific.  "Put him outside in a tent."  (Oh, we've thought about it.)  "Sing 'Jesus Loves Me.'"  Pretty sure I haven't tried that one, but I'm going to give it a go.  Hopefully it won't be an angry, metal version that will ruin the song for him forever.  "Get him a stuffed Jesus."

GET HIM A STUFFED JESUS.

I'm not talking about taxidermy.  (Oh my gosh.  I could follow that train of thought all kinds of places, but I won't.  I will exercise restraint.  You're welcome.)

Immediately after reading this comment, I OF COURSE googled "stuffed Jesus doll."  The above image is the first one that came up.  It was Agape at first sight.  

Never mind that I'm pretty sure he's contoured his face (lay off the bronzer, Jesus!).  Never mind that his proportions are just a tad off (What is with those giant hands?  All the better to save you with, my dear.)

He's almost a foot and a half tall.  (The doll, not real Jesus.  Keep up, people.)  He's machine washable- although there's no way I could live with the guilt of not even taking the time to hand-wash Jesus.  Couldn't do it.  

If you have so much as two extra minutes in your day, do yourself a favor and do the google image search.  It's priceless (actually, most of them seem to be $19.95).  I'm particularly intrigued by the talking Jesus doll.  How on earth would choose who you want to be the voice of Jesus?  James Earl Jones?  Are you going to get super authentic and make him speak in Aramaic?  (Not that Jesus couldn't speak in English if he wanted to.  I wonder what accent he would choose to take on?)

My sister is a genius.  (Thanks, Steph!)

Just In Case You Ever Wondered

I love Christmas.

But now I'm kind of ready for it to be over.

I know what you're thinking:  "Um, Christmas is over.  It's December 27th.  The rest of the Christmas-celebrating masses moved on yesterday.  Idiot."

Man, you guys are harsh sometimes.

The reason I bring up the whole I'm-ready-for-Christmas-to-be-over thing is that I'm usually not ready to give up the Christmas ghost until mid-January.  Sometimes I use Epiphany as an excuse, sometimes I say that I won't take all the decorations down until the wise men have had a chance to arrive.  Sometimes I'm honest and say I just don't want Christmas to be over yet.

This year, though, I might go nuts and take it down right after the new year.  I won't lie to my children again and tell them that Christmas decorations can do double duty for Valentine's Day (by the by- does anyone actually decorate for Valentine's Day?  I keep seeing all these ideas on Pinterest- do people really do that?  Am I the only one that thinks that's crazy?).

We're not done celebrating yet, though.  We still have some traveling to do and some family to see.

Which means one of my favorite parts of the holidays isn't over yet!

That's right:  I still have more presents to wrap!  It's funny; I'm not much of a gift person, and yet I love to wrap gifts.


Gift wrapping was one of my favorite parts about one of my high school jobs.  I worked in a drugstore, and when I wasn't working in the back in the pharmacy, I was up front, where we sold gifts and make up and stuff.  And around the holidays?  I spent many an hour at the gift wrapping station, making perfume bottles and knick knacks look all purdy for the pathetically grateful men who were out shopping for their womenfolk.

Hey, have I ever told you guys about the time I was talking to my Spanish Conversation Partner about that high school job?  I was a Spanish minor in college, and part of the program included spending a certain amount of time every week talking to one of our Spanish-speaking international students.  This gave us gringos an opportunity to practice with someone who wasn't allowed to speak English to us, and was a lot of fun, besides.  Well, one day one of my Partners and I were talking about who knows what, when for some reason I mentioned my high school job.  He asked a question about it, and while I was trying to answer, he began to look alarmed.  I continued attempting to explain myself, his face looking more and more incredulous and a trifle worried, until he suddenly began laughing, and I decided it was time to stop talking.

When he finally regained control of himself, he explained to me that I had told him I sold drugs in high school.  I was a drug dealer.  It turns out they don't really have an equivalent word for "drugstore" in Spanish; they just stick with 'la farmacia.'


To sum up:  I love wrapping presents, and I am not now, nor have I ever been, a drug dealer.


I hope everyone had a terrific Christmas!

The Best Slippers In The Entire World, If Not The Entire Universe, And I'm Not Even Exaggerating (Much)

I know I said I was going to write another cancer post... like, yesterday... or maybe even the day before... but guess what?

I haven't felt like it.

And guess what else?

I still don't feel like it.


You know what I do feel like writing about?

Slippers.

That's right.  Slippers.  I guess it's just a frivolous kind of day.  And cancer is anything but frivolous.


So here's the thing.  I'm not really a gift person.  Derek and I went through that Love Languages book a few years ago, and guess which love language comes in dead last for me?

Right again.  Receiving of gifts.

That's not to say I don't like any gifts, ever.  I just prefer for people to say nice things to me or do stuff for me rather than give me more stuff.  I think it kind of ties in with the fact that I'm not really a 'stuff' person.  If our house caught on fire, we got everyone out safely and still had time to grab a material object, I really have no idea what I'd grab.  Maybe the quilts my mom, grandma, and aunts have made for us.  Maybe one of the books Derek has gotten for me.  The value I place on those items lies more in the people behind them, however, not so much on the things themselves.

I'm sure this is also all part of the reason that I prefer practical gifts.  (Unless it's old.  Then it doesn't have to be practical at all.)  Well, that and the fact that I'm super picky about the stuff I do want.  I'm actually pretty fortunate in that the people around me all seem to get me pretty practical stuff for gifts.  I can't really remember the last time I got a gift I just couldn't stand.  (Wait.  That's not true.  I once participated in one of those Secret Santa thingies and got knick knacks and useless dust catchers for three. weeks. straight.)

I'm basically the most difficult person in the world.

One of the things I'm picky about are slippers.  I wear slippers all the time.

I don't just mean most days, or most evenings, or the coldest weeks out of the year, or when I'm sick.

Starting around October all the way into the beginning of May, I wear my slippers from the moment my feet touch the ground until I'm sliding my feet out of them and swinging them into bed.  The reasons for this are:

• We have bare floors on the main level of our house, and not those fancy radiant heating floors; hardwood and laminate floors that hover just above an old and chilly basement.

• We live in Iowa.  It's usually cold from October until May.

• I stay at home with our kids, so I'm on these floors all day, every day, and finally

• I'm a big fat pansy who hates having cold feet.

As a result of all those things, I'm picky about my slippers.  I don't like the backless kind; no backs = shuffling, and I'm already outnumbered by these little heathens we call children- why on earth would I wear something that slows me down, thus handicapping me and giving them yet another advantage?  I also don't like those thin little things that as far as I can tell are really just glorified socks.  I would also like to wear something that is reasonably attractive; when it's a battle just to find time for a shower and a clean pair of jeans, you don't want to walk around in something that, while comfortable, makes you look even uglier and stay-at-home-mom-ish.  Trust me on this one.

Fear not- there is a point to all this whining and complaining.  

BEHOLD-  The perfect slipper.

I'm not exactly a regular L.L. Bean kind of shopper, unless I'm finding it second-hand at a garage sale.  And make no mistake:  these slippers are kind of pricey.  (They're $40.  Forty dollars is a fortune to spend in my world, at least on slippers.)  I justify the cost by reminding myself just how much I wear these babies.  That, and not actually buying them myself; these were a birthday present (thanks, Mom!).

And by the way?  I only asked for these because I had completely worn out my old pair, which I received for my birthday four years ago.

I know it's hard to tell, but the one on the left is the old slipper.

Now the one on the right is the old one.  (I knew you were confused- it's like I can read your mind.)

I probably should have asked for a new pair last year, but I'm a firm believer in stretching things to their absolute limit of usefulness.  

Which is why I'm still wearing my old pair right now.  I keep telling myself I'll put on the new pair on the next really cold day.  Or the next time I trip on the laces that will no longer tie when I'm walking down the stairs and almost die.

Whichever comes first.

Note:  Just in case there's any confusion, this is not a paid endorsement by L.L. Bean.  They just have awesome slippers (hey, these would actually be a good Christmas gift, guys!), and I like to talk about really random/boring things sometimes.  

Father's Day Questionnaire

It's Father's Day!  What have all of you done to celebrate the fathers in your life?


Derek got to open a couple gifts, including multiple Father's Day cards made by Adelaide.

We also began what I hope will be a continuing Father's Day tradition.  I, unfortunately, have a memory like a rusty sieve, and the chances of my remembering to do this every year are somewhat slim.  I also, however, have a blog, and since I'm recording the idea here, perhaps I will remember to do it next year.  All I have to do is remember to look back at the blog around this time next year.  Which is not good.  (See rusty sieve simile above.)

But just in case 2013 Kristy remembers to check back, here's the fun little Father's Day Questionnaire I posed to our two older children this year:



(Note:  Atticus's answers in red.)

All About My Daddy

By Atticus, Age 3

My Daddy's name is Derek.

He is 2 feet 3 inches tall.  He's tall.

He weighs 3 pounds.

His hair color is gray.

His favorite tv show is scary things.

He likes to go to B-Bop's and Hickory Park to eat ice cream.

His favorite food is marshmallow stars.

His favorite drink is coffee.

For fun my Daddy likes to play blocks.

I love it when Daddy plays blocks with me.

My favorite thing about my Daddy is watching tv.

----------------------------------------------------------

Note: Adelaide's answers in pink.

All About My Daddy

By Adelaide, Age 6

My Daddy's name is Derek.

He is 6 feet 19 inches tall.

He weighs 60 pounds.

His hair color is grayish brown.

His favorite tv show is Channel 12.

He likes to go to Hickory Park.

His favorite food is bagels.

His favorite drink is iced tea.

For fun my Daddy likes to golf.

I love it when Daddy spends time with me.

My favorite thing about my Daddy is how much he loves me.

----------------------------------------------------------

Just to clear a few thing up:  Derek is not 2 feet, 3 inches tall, but as Atticus said, he is pretty tall- 6 ft, 5 in.  So I guess our son's answer to that one wasn't too outrageous.  Derek does not, however, weigh 3 pounds; nor does he weigh 60 pounds- he weighs a little more than that.  His hair color is kind of a dark blonde, and his favorite tv show would be live NFL games.  He is not a coffee drinker, but he does like to golf.  

I had a lot of fun doing this, and the idea is to re-question them each year and see how their answers change.  I think I'm going to put these in a binder and try really hard not to lose it by this time next year.  

Happy Father's Day!

Note:  I got this idea from this website via Pinterest.

Random Thoughts

The Crislers have spent the past week and a half celebrating Christmas by spending approximately 26 combined hours traveling in the car.  I had fully intended on sitting down in front of our computer and tapping out a post today to try and make up for the blog silence over the past two weeks, but I'm not gonna lie:  I got nothin'.

There's just too much stuff going on in my head right now; I can't seem to separate individual thoughts long enough to try and express any single one in the short story fashion appropriate for this blog.  So instead, I'm going to use this post as a kind of exercise in the hopes that when I'm done, my mind will be a little clearer, and I'll be able to go about my day and be a little more productive.


1.  Today is Derek's birthday.  I really need to hurry up and get his cake frosted/ get the pork loin in the crockpot for the pulled pork sandwiches/ have the kids make something crafty as a cute gift.

2.  Mmmm, pulled pork.    MMMMM, Head Country Barbeque Sauce.

3.  Atticus makes the best camera faces.

"Thank you Jeeeeesus for sugar cookies!"

4.  I got to see so many beloved friends and family over the past couple weeks, including my sister Kelli, who is pregnant and due with her and her husband's first baby at the end of February.  I am super duper excited about this baby, not least of all because I think she's going to be ridiculously cute, and also because I finally get to be the one loving on and squeezing a sweet little baby, then giving it back and going home to get some sleep.

5.  My baby sister Steph is also pregnant and due with her first baby in May.  I'm also excited about this baby, but my feelings are a little different about Steph having a baby.  This is probably due to the fact that Steph is my baby sister.  I remember changing her diapers.  I remember using a warm wet washcloth to clean the gunk off of her over-active-tear-duct-eyes so that she could open them in the morning.  I still call her things like Shteffer Beffer.  She can't have a baby; she's still a baby herself.  Except that she's married and out on her own and actually a legal adult.  A baby adult.

6.  The kiddos got Lincoln Logs for Christmas.

Derek's been having a great time building old-timey forts.  

7.  I wonder what manna tastes like?  

Head Country Barbeque Sauce?  Perhaps.

8.  I had my first vision-darkling, roaring-in-my-ears brush with claustrophia while stuck in an elevator with a friend in downtown Wichita.  I think I'll be taking the stairs from now on.

9.  I love Table Rock Lake.

10.  Mitt Romney and I are on a first-name basis.  He calls me Kristy.  I call him Mitt.  

No, really.  There were several messages on the answering machine when we got home, and in them he referred to me as, "Kristy."  As a result, when I answered the phone last night, instead of my standard, "Hello?" I said, "Hi, Mitt!"  It wasn't actually Mitt calling that time, but his Des Moines campaign manager.  I'm sure all this attention has nothing to do with the fact that I live in Iowa and there's a little thing called the Iowa caucus coming up.  I will say, however, that one of the messages actually sounded like Mitt talking, not just a recording.  He sounded tired.  It kind of made me like him more.

11.  Caedmon's new favorites are the Itsy Bitsy Spider and the Beaver Song. 

He's learning all kinds of new words.  He is so amazingly sweet.  He also eats a ton.  Non-stop eating is what our Spud is all about.

12.  I really enjoy having Adelaide home all day.  Maybe I just won't send her back to school next week.

That's better.  Time to go forth and be productive.

My Husband Has An Awesome Wife

(And if that title seems disgustingly self-congratulatory, it's only because it is.)



I am a practical gift-giver.  I like to give gifts that are practical.

I don't know whether I can blame it on Nature or Nurture, but I'm pretty sure it somehow all stems from my mom.  I can't remember how many times I watched my mother wrap a first-aid kit or a fire extinguisher as a wedding gift.  And really, who wouldn't want to receive those things as gifts?  I'm sure many a happy couple thought fondly of my mom when they were bleeding or their kitchen caught on fire (both events that probably happen quite a bit in those first turbulent years of marriage).

I've never really thought of this as a negative attribute, until I started reflecting upon the gifts I've received from Derek over the life of our relationship.  They make my practical gifts seem kind of... lame.

Like the time, one wedding anniversary, Derek got me an early edition hardcover of To Kill A Mockingbird, one of my very favorite books.

Or one year on my birthday when he arranged for his sister and her husband to drive down from Maine to watch Adelaide so that we could drive from our then-home in Connecticut into Manhattan to eat supper and attend a performance of George Balanchine's The Nutcracker by the New York City Ballet.

Or a few years before that when he flew in from Connecticut on my birthday, surprising me on my doorstep in Kansas... and proposing.

Do you know what one of the first gifts was that I gave to him in college?  A water pitcher with an attached filter.  See, the water in our college town is universally known as being kind of disgusting, so in my mind, I was giving him the gift of clean, delicious, refreshing water, right in his dorm.

I realize that even with that justification, a water pitcher doesn't hold a candle to a beloved book, the New York City Ballet, or a marriage proposal.

This year, I set out to break my streak of sub-par gifts.

See, Derek turned 30 last year, and I really didn't do anything special.  In my defense, I was still pretty overwhelmed from having Caedmon and the whole I-have-three-children-under-the-age-of-five thing.

I knew that I had to make up for it this year.  Although Derek's birthday isn't until next month, I surprised Derek this past weekend.

One of Derek's favorite bands is Jars of Clay.  He's been listening to them since they formed 17 years ago, and has seen them in concert a couple times before- but he's never actually met them.

That's Derek, me, and the four members of Jars of Clay.  And if you don't think this picture isn't going on our Christmas card, you don't know the Crislers.

Yup, we were fortunate enough to be part of a small audience (think around 30 people) that got to stand about two feet away from the band, requesting and listening to them play several of their songs, asking questions, talking to them, getting autographed CD's, and taking pictures with them.  They were very funny, very approachable, and very talented.  It was so great.

I still can't promise I won't be giving towels and measuring spoons as gifts.










Note:  I alone am not responsible for this weekend- that would be impossible.  I would like to thank Derek's parents (over and over and over again), who drove several hours to Kansas City to stay in a hotel with our children while we attended the concert.  Ben, the Visual Arts Leader at our church, also helped by switching things around to ensure that Derek did not have video ministry responsibilities Sunday morning.

Jars of Clay also played a smallish part, for which we are thankful.