Thursday, August 23, 2007

New World

Things that happened today:
Ella used the words, "stomach bone," as she described a scene to me from Pollyanna.

Little Mark put ice into a large bag of salt & vinegar chips the kids left on the table and got them soggy, but the kids didn't care.
I let the the children mop the kitchen today while I worked on the computer. Then I sent them upstairs and mopped up fifty little gray footprints.
The girls dressed up LMark in a Snow White outfit, and he came downstairs grunting and looking pathetic. I correctly assumed he wanted me to take it off of him.
Ella caught a butterfly. We put him in our butterfly habitat and brought him to the Piggly Wiggly with us. Max wanted to name it "Alice".

We are in the process of refinancing our home, getting new homeowners insurance, and car insurance all at the same time and through the same company. In the midst of all this we found out they are assessing our property tax too high. But because we're working out all the details online it's making my head swim. When it came time to hit the BUY button on the homeowners insurance, it just seemed too simple, so I got nervous. I think I must be getting old. I know people do this all the time, but I feel like I'm crossing a threshold into a new and frightening technological age.

I am at a point in my life where I have made the conscious decision to progress no farther in my understanding of certain things: html is one thing that would be useful but I'm not interested in; text-messaging is another--and all those little abbreviations that go with it. Mark, likewise, has decided that self-checkouts at the grocery store are too complicated and drive-through windows are too intense.

Zoe (not Las Vegas Zoe), Ella & Meggy's friend, came to visit today. She is turning 7 on Saturday and having the girls over for a pool party. Zoe's mom is nervous about leaving Margaret to swim alone in water slightly above her head. I've asked Margaret to indulge Miss Jennifer because she doesn't realize how well she swims. To Margaret, however, the quintessence of mortification is that she might be required to wear arm-floaties at the party.

I'm going to clean the rugs at the church tomorrow with the kids.
Rose comes back Saturday. Hallelujah.
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