Three Things

• When you go to enjoy frozen yogurt with Caedmon, he eats it so fast this inevitably happens.

On a related note, Caedmon- who is a self-determined expert on superheroes- helped me discover what my superpower is:  I do not get brain freeze, or ice cream headaches, or whatever you call them.  I will pretend I was not disappointed that my superpower couldn't have been something just a tiny bit... well, cooler.  (Pun not intended but nevertheless appreciated for what it is.)

• Hey, remember when we didn't have to wake up and feel sick by what our elected government officials were doing "on our behalf"?

• While all of our children are capable of independent reading (HAL-LAY-LOO-YAH), all three still enjoy being read to, particularly Caedmon.  He has a very subtle way of asking for this to happen.

I understand if you're having trouble focusing on the subject of this photo, which is supposed to be how our youngest spreads a blanket on our couch, assembles a pile of picture books, then pats the seat next to him invitingly, beckoning you to come read to him.  Maybe you're distracted by a photo-bombing Atticus in the foreground, or maybe you can't take your eyes off those pants of Caedmon's.  I do have an excuse:  I am a human being who sometimes gets a little behind on the laundry.  That morning, before school, Caedmon had wailed to me that he had "nooooo mooooore clean paaaants to wear!"  I dug those way-too-short, mess-of-holes jeans out and told him to put some long underwear on underneath.  Problem solved.  And it's better than that day last fall, when Derek got the kids up and around for school one day, allowing me and my bronchitis to sleep in.  Sweet, nice husband.  Sweet, nice husband who I discovered sent Caedmon to school in long underwear instead of real pants and didn't realize it until I sent him a picture of our son right after he got off the school bus in those long underwear.  I laughed, shrugged, and basically chalked it up to "Whatever, he's the third child and used to these kind of shenanigans."

Books and Caucuses, But Not Books About Caucuses

Big week, friends.  We're finally over the awful illness that trashed us last week (except for those odd moments where we have to sit down due to continued weakness and lingering nauseau.  OTHER THAN THAT.), today is the Iowa Caucus, and as of midnight tonight, we're in a winter storm/blizzard watch until Wednesday morning at 8 a.m.  Yay, Iowa!

Derek's out caucusing right now while I stay home with the kids; four years ago, I got to go be a good little citizen and caucus while he stayed home.  Either way, after today hopefully we'll stop receiving enough political flyers in the mail to wallpaper the first floor of our house and the radio will stop with the non-stop political ads, at least until the fall.

When we haven't been hearing about how this candidate is evil and a liar and possibly the anti-Christ and how that candidate is a criminal and eats babies and doesn't even know how to garden, we've been hearing about this giant storm that the Weather Powers That Be have somehow had their eye on since it was over Ethiopia.  You know, or somewhere.  It's Monday, and Monday is grocery day in this house, where I emerge with my Aldi bags and my Aldi quarter and my meal plan with my specific lists broken down by store, but today is not just Monday, it's the day before a possible blizzard, which means the stores were packed and people who are somewhat less capable and efficient grocery shoppers than I (read:  99% OF THE POPULATION) were just wandering around, stopping their carts in the middle of the aisles, thinking their no doubt incredibly deep thoughts right in front of the bag of brown rice I needed but couldn't reach without risking a molestation charge.

You know what grocery stores need?  Grocery police.  I don't mean, like, who gets which items, I mean someone to aid the flow of traffic through the store, perhaps help certain shoppers lessen their risk of imminent death by other shoppers.  I would be terrific at this, because I understand that moving through a store should be just like driving:  You travel on the right, if you have to make a stop you pull over, and in general just try to be aware of your surroundings, because as it turns out, you are not the only person in the store attempting to restock your larder!  I could somehow reward conscientious shoppers with discounts or high fives or something, and write citations for those who are pissing off everyone around them, but I'd probably need a whole separate pad for those guilty of just being all-around jerks.

I may already be drunk with power.

Even without grocery police, I made it through all the stores and got everything I need to make bierocks and shredded beef tacos and other deliciousness this week, plus we made our trip to the necessary libraries just a couple days ago, so we are ready.

Look, if the State Library of Iowa says I need three books to weather this storm, then who am I to argue?

I think I'll start with this one, because it won't be starting so much as continuing, as I'm already halfway through and it is fantastic.

Nonfiction history book about medieval England:  Sounds eeeeuuuuurrrgh, right?  But you guys, it is so good.  I can't put it down.  

Now, off to put the kids to bed, aka "I don't care if you're praying your tiny little heart out for a snow day tomorrow:  Chances are, you'll have school, so bed!  Now!  But keep praying, because I don't want to get up, either!"

A List

• Burning Kansas:

Or not.  You know, whatever. 

(Image shown with permission from the artist.  Find out more about Dave Loewenstein and his work right here.)

• This book:

You should only read this book if it's an ignore-the-dishes, I-can-function-on-only-three-hours-of-sleep, I'm-sure-the-children-are-fine (wherever they are), we-didn't-need-clean-clothes, eating-supper-is-overrated-anyway kind of day.  It's hilarious and thoughtful and engrossing and I sent Shonya a half-hostile, half-thankful message for recommending this book to me and robbing me of most of a night's sleep.  I have ordered three more of Ms. Moriarty's books through interlibrary loan and may or may not have promised cookies to whichever librarian could get them for me the fastest.  

• #blessed

This post from the Very Worst Missionary very precisely mirrors how I feel about the Christian over-/ misuse of the word "blessed."

#blessed

#blessed

#blessed