Before I visited the doctor today, Michelle decided to enter my recent symptoms into Web MD - the all-knowing, consumer friendly, website -- to discern what I might be suffering from (and oh how I have suffered).
Here are the symptoms: a painful sore throat, lightheadedness, a fever, swollen and painful-to-the-touch-lymph-nodes in my neck, insatiable appetite for peanut M&Ms.* Alas, things did not look good, for, according to the website, I may well be suffering from. . . the Plague.** My concern only grew upon learning that, apparently, the bacteria causing the disease "can be carried by small wild rodents, other wild animals or even household pets," all of which are terms that have been used to describe my children.
You can probably imagine my relief when it turned out to be a simple case of strep throat.
*Okay, okay, so maybe she only put in "enlarged or swollen glands."
**Web MD then helpfully points out "It is possible that the main title of the report Bubonic Plague is not the name you expected." It then provides a few helpful synonyms, including "Black Death", and "Black Plague."
Monday, February 26, 2007
Sick Day
I have been miserably sick all weekend. To make matters worse, there's been nothing good on TV.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
7th Inning Stretch
Today marks seven years of marriage for Michelle and I. Spurning the traditional anniversary gifts, I bought her a 5 lb. fillet of beef from Costco this year -- and two vanilla beans.
Now, before you start throwing rocks at me, know this: I've never seen her so giddy over anything I've gotten her before.* After spending the day scheming, she excitedly informed me tonight she's got five recipes in mind that she's anxious to use the filet on.
For her part, she's arranged for baby sitting and a golf outing tomorrow morning, as long as her clavical is feeling up to it.** I note without reservation that she's my favorite.
In other news, we also jointly resolved -- for the 37th time this year -- to go without sugar for a time. For those not keeping track, there've been 49 days so far this new year. The pact comes with cruel twist: each violation is punishable by a $5 fine, payable to the other, out of the guilty party's personal account.
All the same, happy anniversary to us!
* Not to be compared to the pound of veal given to a 4 yr. old Bill Murray in Scrooged that lead to the following exchange:
Four year old Bill Murray: "But Daddy, I asked Santa for a choo-choo."
Drunken Butcher of a Father: "Then go and get a job and buy a choo-choo!"
Shortly following this sad exchange, the older Bill Murray is mocked for by the Ghost of Christmas Past for tearing upon witnessing the exchange, and Bill dryly retorts (in a way on Bill Murray can), "I was touched by a gift. A four-year-old kid receives what at today's prices is an expensive piece of meat."
**Indeed, as a federal employee I now count President's Day among my favorite holidays -- all the more because so many of the rest of you have to work.
Now, before you start throwing rocks at me, know this: I've never seen her so giddy over anything I've gotten her before.* After spending the day scheming, she excitedly informed me tonight she's got five recipes in mind that she's anxious to use the filet on.
For her part, she's arranged for baby sitting and a golf outing tomorrow morning, as long as her clavical is feeling up to it.** I note without reservation that she's my favorite.
In other news, we also jointly resolved -- for the 37th time this year -- to go without sugar for a time. For those not keeping track, there've been 49 days so far this new year. The pact comes with cruel twist: each violation is punishable by a $5 fine, payable to the other, out of the guilty party's personal account.
All the same, happy anniversary to us!
* Not to be compared to the pound of veal given to a 4 yr. old Bill Murray in Scrooged that lead to the following exchange:
Four year old Bill Murray: "But Daddy, I asked Santa for a choo-choo."
Drunken Butcher of a Father: "Then go and get a job and buy a choo-choo!"
Shortly following this sad exchange, the older Bill Murray is mocked for by the Ghost of Christmas Past for tearing upon witnessing the exchange, and Bill dryly retorts (in a way on Bill Murray can), "I was touched by a gift. A four-year-old kid receives what at today's prices is an expensive piece of meat."
**Indeed, as a federal employee I now count President's Day among my favorite holidays -- all the more because so many of the rest of you have to work.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
The Anti Anti C.S. Lewis
It's Valentine's Day. A day of love. A day of fun. A day of sugar cookies (for me anyway). Yet I am provoked to wrath.
A family friend recently decided to take a few swipes at C.S. Lewis, decrying, among other things, those who "constantly quote him." It's one thing indeed to check those foolish among us who might treat him as a prophet (he was not) or those who declare him to be "the be-all-end-all of the gospel" (which would be silly).* It's entirely another to disparage the man and his writings.
Tsk Tsk Sister Astle, I think you're making a big mistake -- a mistake you should be too smart to make.
Here's the first clue: you've admittedly never read anything he's written! Instead, your familiarity with C.S. Lewis appears to be based entirely on: (1) quotes from talks/church articles; (2) watching the recent cinematic adapation of The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe.
You've been given bread crumbs (and in the case of the movie, moldy bread crumbs) and yet seemed to have declared yourself familiar enough to give an opinion on the entire feast. Sure you are better than that.
Indeed, if you think simply that The Screwtape Letters gives "great points regarding the devil and his attempts to lead us away from our goals" then you have missed the weightier and more valuable portion of the book. The devils in the book are merely a vehicle for him to address subjects such as prayer, discipleship, humility, love, and death. Additionally, Letter VIII addresses trials or, as he refers to certain trials, "spiritual troughs." In all I have ever read on trials and enduring, I'm not sure if I've ever read anything quite as touching and inspiring. I'm quite serious.
Be careful not to cast the book aside just because people, including recently President Faust, -- are fond of quoting it, or because you perceive some have an unhealthy obsession with it. They're quoting it for a reason -- and they're not even quoting the best parts!
Ah, and you've apparently prejudged The Chronicles of Narnia because you've seen the latest movie. Not a good move (and, after repeated viewings, not that great of a movie). It's the same kind mistake you'd be making if you'd decided on the New Testament by comparing the battle scenes in the Four Gospels to the battle scenes in The Passion of the Christ. What battle scenes, you ask? Exactly. Let's just generally try to avoid judging a book based on the movie.**
You also don't want to miss out on several chapters in Mere Christianity, or the allegories in The Horse and His Boy, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Prince Caspian, and The Great Divorce. If that weren't enough, his books are refreshingly short.
So let me put it simply: Lewis was not a prophet. He is not "the be-all-end-all of the Gospel." Be that as it may, many, many of his writings (*not all*) are inspired and offering compelling insights on gospel principles -- far more than you've given him credit for. People do well to quote him.
Your criticism of his writing is uninformed and undeserved. Lest my wrath be upon you, I think you owe him an apology.
*I've never actually met or talked with anyone that I knew to be guilty of either offense. Furthermore, I'm almost certain I've heard and read the same conference talks and "countless church articles" that quote C.S. Lewis and have yet to sense any unhealthy admiration of the man or any undue weight to his writings.
**For what it's worth, The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe is among my least favorite books in the Narnia Series.
A family friend recently decided to take a few swipes at C.S. Lewis, decrying, among other things, those who "constantly quote him." It's one thing indeed to check those foolish among us who might treat him as a prophet (he was not) or those who declare him to be "the be-all-end-all of the gospel" (which would be silly).* It's entirely another to disparage the man and his writings.
Tsk Tsk Sister Astle, I think you're making a big mistake -- a mistake you should be too smart to make.
Here's the first clue: you've admittedly never read anything he's written! Instead, your familiarity with C.S. Lewis appears to be based entirely on: (1) quotes from talks/church articles; (2) watching the recent cinematic adapation of The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe.
You've been given bread crumbs (and in the case of the movie, moldy bread crumbs) and yet seemed to have declared yourself familiar enough to give an opinion on the entire feast. Sure you are better than that.
Indeed, if you think simply that The Screwtape Letters gives "great points regarding the devil and his attempts to lead us away from our goals" then you have missed the weightier and more valuable portion of the book. The devils in the book are merely a vehicle for him to address subjects such as prayer, discipleship, humility, love, and death. Additionally, Letter VIII addresses trials or, as he refers to certain trials, "spiritual troughs." In all I have ever read on trials and enduring, I'm not sure if I've ever read anything quite as touching and inspiring. I'm quite serious.
Be careful not to cast the book aside just because people, including recently President Faust, -- are fond of quoting it, or because you perceive some have an unhealthy obsession with it. They're quoting it for a reason -- and they're not even quoting the best parts!
Ah, and you've apparently prejudged The Chronicles of Narnia because you've seen the latest movie. Not a good move (and, after repeated viewings, not that great of a movie). It's the same kind mistake you'd be making if you'd decided on the New Testament by comparing the battle scenes in the Four Gospels to the battle scenes in The Passion of the Christ. What battle scenes, you ask? Exactly. Let's just generally try to avoid judging a book based on the movie.**
You also don't want to miss out on several chapters in Mere Christianity, or the allegories in The Horse and His Boy, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Prince Caspian, and The Great Divorce. If that weren't enough, his books are refreshingly short.
So let me put it simply: Lewis was not a prophet. He is not "the be-all-end-all of the Gospel." Be that as it may, many, many of his writings (*not all*) are inspired and offering compelling insights on gospel principles -- far more than you've given him credit for. People do well to quote him.
Your criticism of his writing is uninformed and undeserved. Lest my wrath be upon you, I think you owe him an apology.
*I've never actually met or talked with anyone that I knew to be guilty of either offense. Furthermore, I'm almost certain I've heard and read the same conference talks and "countless church articles" that quote C.S. Lewis and have yet to sense any unhealthy admiration of the man or any undue weight to his writings.
**For what it's worth, The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe is among my least favorite books in the Narnia Series.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Caveat Emptor (Let the Buyer Beware)
A young boy once ventured to the top of a tall mountain. Near the top he encountered a venomous, talking snake. “Carry me down to the bottom of the mountain,” begged the snake, “and I promise I won’t bite you.” The boy had been warned about mountain snakes, but accepted the snake’s proposition anyway. After the boy carried the snake on the long journey down the mountain, he bent to put the snake down. The snake quickly bit the boy in the leg. Writhing in pain, and facing certain death (or at least amputation) the boy cried: “Why? Why did you bite me? You promised!”
“Ah,” said the snake, “but you knew what I was when you picked me up.”*
A few nights ago, my younger brother Matthew proposed marriage to a young lady. She apparently accepted. Before it’s too late, it seems only fitting that this young lady be informed of some of the standard terms, conditions, and disclaimers that accompany any marriage into the Clark family. As readers of the Forbidden Donut, you’re entitled to a sneak peek, especially in the event that you’re considering one of my still available siblings (and there are many) as a potential partner.
Dear Leslie,
What were you thinking?
Your decision to marry Matthew can only have resulted from one of two things: (1) you are crazy; or (2) Matt’s misrepresented what kind of family you are marrying into.
Suspecting you are not guilty of the former, and acting as the Clark family’s unauthorized legal representative in protecting you (and us) against the latter, you are hereby informed and advised of the following:
1. If you’d rather not keep something a secret – say a proposal date or impending wedding – make your new mother and father in law among the first people you share it with. It's terribly important that you let them think it’s a secret. In fact, make sure you tell them not to tell a soul. Then wait for them to start dropping “subtle” hints about your secret to all they know, which hints make the secret all but impossible to discern.
2. Christmas mornings for you will hereafter begin at 4:30 a.m… or earlier.
3. Anything sweet or remotely tempting to eat (e.g., candy, cookies, cereal, baking soda) can’t be expected to last any longer than a few hours in your home. You’ll find this rule is unaffected by the quantity of the treats.
4. Peter does everything around here. He follows a long line of Clarks who formerly held that distinction.
5. If you find someone has raided the ice cream and left a spoon in the carton, it’s probably Leanne. Or it’s one of the rest us framing Leanne.
6. Your betrothed is generally beloved among his siblings, but he also seems to owe us money in varying amounts. We expect you’ll make good on his debts.
7. Yes, it’s true: We Clarks certainly sort laundry, but you’ll probably never catch anyone actually folding laundry. That notion is strange to us, no doubt the result of growing up in the back woods of Upstate New York.
8. When traveling with your future father-in-law, ready yourself two hours ahead of any intended departure, because that’s when he’s going to want to leave.
9. Speaking of your future father-in-law, you’ll never again want for school supplies.
10. And anytime you’re in Iowa, you’ll now have complimentary lifetime passes to Urbandale’s finest basement gym.
11. By now you’re already aware that we have an annual milkshake contest. Along these lines, be advised that just because someone makes a banana bread milkshake the year previous, this apparently does not mean that this same person actually likes bananas. In fact, it’s apparently supposed to mean that she hates bananas.
12. Along these same lines, you’re further informed that your opinion may be solicited as to whether or not a milkshake, by definition, requires that milk be added, or whether one may surreptitiously circumvent the process entirely by simply stirring in Oreos and M&Ms into half-melted ice cream and pretending she’s actually made a “shake.” (Not that I’m trying to suggest a position or anything, or that your chances of receiving a wedding gift will increase or decrease depending on your acquiescence to any perceived suggestion.)
13. If the family is playing wiffle ball, you may want to keep an extra eye on Nathan’s kids. No doubt Nathan’s supposed to be watching them, and no doubt he even thinks he’s watching them, but alas, they’re just as likely to be stranded in a ditch somewhere.
14. Be extra sensitive when your future husband comes home from a golf outing with his brothers. He doesn’t take losing well.
15. All the good cereal is on the top shelf of the food storage room downstairs. And no, we older kids (and we’re still trying to figure out whether Matt technically counts as one of the “older kids”) were never privy to the kind of smorgasbord now available at the Clark home on a daily basis. We had peanut butter toast.
16. Among the famous accomplishments of your in-laws: the world’s largest collection of DI books, consumption of a Big Texan meal (72 oz. steak, plus salad, baked potato, shrimp cocktail, and roll) in under an hour, a girl scout cookie eating champion (back when they were under $2 a box), a two-time popsicle eating champion, the Dr. Mario World Champion, a sister-in-law who once proudly walked around BYU campus with a paper bag on her head, and an ingenious cat trap.
17. And of course, a blogging brother-in-law with an unhealthy obsession with Peanut M&M’s – as long as they’re on sale.
If, after reading this letter, you still decide to go forward with the marriage, bienvenidos. You knew what we were when you picked us up.
Con Cariño,
Aaron
*I dutifully remind Michelle of this story whenever she identifies another weakness in my habits or character.
“Ah,” said the snake, “but you knew what I was when you picked me up.”*
A few nights ago, my younger brother Matthew proposed marriage to a young lady. She apparently accepted. Before it’s too late, it seems only fitting that this young lady be informed of some of the standard terms, conditions, and disclaimers that accompany any marriage into the Clark family. As readers of the Forbidden Donut, you’re entitled to a sneak peek, especially in the event that you’re considering one of my still available siblings (and there are many) as a potential partner.
Dear Leslie,
What were you thinking?
Your decision to marry Matthew can only have resulted from one of two things: (1) you are crazy; or (2) Matt’s misrepresented what kind of family you are marrying into.
Suspecting you are not guilty of the former, and acting as the Clark family’s unauthorized legal representative in protecting you (and us) against the latter, you are hereby informed and advised of the following:
1. If you’d rather not keep something a secret – say a proposal date or impending wedding – make your new mother and father in law among the first people you share it with. It's terribly important that you let them think it’s a secret. In fact, make sure you tell them not to tell a soul. Then wait for them to start dropping “subtle” hints about your secret to all they know, which hints make the secret all but impossible to discern.
2. Christmas mornings for you will hereafter begin at 4:30 a.m… or earlier.
3. Anything sweet or remotely tempting to eat (e.g., candy, cookies, cereal, baking soda) can’t be expected to last any longer than a few hours in your home. You’ll find this rule is unaffected by the quantity of the treats.
4. Peter does everything around here. He follows a long line of Clarks who formerly held that distinction.
5. If you find someone has raided the ice cream and left a spoon in the carton, it’s probably Leanne. Or it’s one of the rest us framing Leanne.
6. Your betrothed is generally beloved among his siblings, but he also seems to owe us money in varying amounts. We expect you’ll make good on his debts.
7. Yes, it’s true: We Clarks certainly sort laundry, but you’ll probably never catch anyone actually folding laundry. That notion is strange to us, no doubt the result of growing up in the back woods of Upstate New York.
8. When traveling with your future father-in-law, ready yourself two hours ahead of any intended departure, because that’s when he’s going to want to leave.
9. Speaking of your future father-in-law, you’ll never again want for school supplies.
10. And anytime you’re in Iowa, you’ll now have complimentary lifetime passes to Urbandale’s finest basement gym.
11. By now you’re already aware that we have an annual milkshake contest. Along these lines, be advised that just because someone makes a banana bread milkshake the year previous, this apparently does not mean that this same person actually likes bananas. In fact, it’s apparently supposed to mean that she hates bananas.
12. Along these same lines, you’re further informed that your opinion may be solicited as to whether or not a milkshake, by definition, requires that milk be added, or whether one may surreptitiously circumvent the process entirely by simply stirring in Oreos and M&Ms into half-melted ice cream and pretending she’s actually made a “shake.” (Not that I’m trying to suggest a position or anything, or that your chances of receiving a wedding gift will increase or decrease depending on your acquiescence to any perceived suggestion.)
13. If the family is playing wiffle ball, you may want to keep an extra eye on Nathan’s kids. No doubt Nathan’s supposed to be watching them, and no doubt he even thinks he’s watching them, but alas, they’re just as likely to be stranded in a ditch somewhere.
14. Be extra sensitive when your future husband comes home from a golf outing with his brothers. He doesn’t take losing well.
15. All the good cereal is on the top shelf of the food storage room downstairs. And no, we older kids (and we’re still trying to figure out whether Matt technically counts as one of the “older kids”) were never privy to the kind of smorgasbord now available at the Clark home on a daily basis. We had peanut butter toast.
16. Among the famous accomplishments of your in-laws: the world’s largest collection of DI books, consumption of a Big Texan meal (72 oz. steak, plus salad, baked potato, shrimp cocktail, and roll) in under an hour, a girl scout cookie eating champion (back when they were under $2 a box), a two-time popsicle eating champion, the Dr. Mario World Champion, a sister-in-law who once proudly walked around BYU campus with a paper bag on her head, and an ingenious cat trap.
17. And of course, a blogging brother-in-law with an unhealthy obsession with Peanut M&M’s – as long as they’re on sale.
If, after reading this letter, you still decide to go forward with the marriage, bienvenidos. You knew what we were when you picked us up.
Con Cariño,
Aaron
*I dutifully remind Michelle of this story whenever she identifies another weakness in my habits or character.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Life's Necessities
Michelle and I made significant sacrifices enabling me to take my current job and move ourselves to San Diego -- none more harrowing than giving up premium cable and *sigh* dvr.
Three months into our San Diego, limited basic cable, non-dvr, experience, we're reeling.
How's the line go...?
"There there little luxury. Don't you cry. You'll be a necessity by and by."
Who could have predicted how excruciatingly painful it would be -- after 15 months without a commercial -- to be at their mercy every 7.5 minutes! Who could have foreseen the difficult of reverting back to a lifestyle requiring us to watch tv shows when they actually air or miss them entirely! Such misery!
What ended up tipping the scales, though, was Michelle's displeasure at Jared catching some unsavory commercials on otherwise relatively innocent tv shows. He'd ask "What's that Momma?", and Momma would blush and turn the channel.
So we're getting DVR again, though this time we'll forego renting a box from the cable company and just buy one that doesn't require a subscription. For whatever reason we're more willing to pay a bit more up front if it means we avoid the monthly rental fees.
Hey, after all, it's all about keeping our kids safe. Sometimes you've just gotta bite the bullet...for the kids.
Three months into our San Diego, limited basic cable, non-dvr, experience, we're reeling.
How's the line go...?
"There there little luxury. Don't you cry. You'll be a necessity by and by."
Who could have predicted how excruciatingly painful it would be -- after 15 months without a commercial -- to be at their mercy every 7.5 minutes! Who could have foreseen the difficult of reverting back to a lifestyle requiring us to watch tv shows when they actually air or miss them entirely! Such misery!
What ended up tipping the scales, though, was Michelle's displeasure at Jared catching some unsavory commercials on otherwise relatively innocent tv shows. He'd ask "What's that Momma?", and Momma would blush and turn the channel.
So we're getting DVR again, though this time we'll forego renting a box from the cable company and just buy one that doesn't require a subscription. For whatever reason we're more willing to pay a bit more up front if it means we avoid the monthly rental fees.
Hey, after all, it's all about keeping our kids safe. Sometimes you've just gotta bite the bullet...for the kids.
Monday, February 05, 2007
Cause for Celebration
We celebrated a momentous event tonight: Jared is potty-trained.
To mark the acheivement (which he attained by filling up an intricate sticker chart) we threw a party. Earlier in the day Michelle made a "purple hippo cake" at Jared's request:
We also got some Little Caesar's Pizza (in typical fashion, we ended up with four pizzas after I picked up two pizzas at the wrong Little Caesar's and then felt compelled to go pick up the two we'd actually ordered from a different store)*. He also got a "black knight" from Target, and is currently watching his favorite movie, the latest straight to DVD version of Brer Rabbit, featuring Danny Glover as the voice of Brer Turtle and Wanda Sykes as Sister Moon.
It can hardly be disputed: it pays to be potty-trained at the Clark house.
* Maybe someone out there can help us understand how Little Caesar's can offer large, one topping pizzas for $5.00, crazy bread for $1.00, and a special "Party Deal" to buy two one topping large pizzas, and two orders of crazy bread, for the bargain basement price of $12.99.
To mark the acheivement (which he attained by filling up an intricate sticker chart) we threw a party. Earlier in the day Michelle made a "purple hippo cake" at Jared's request:
We also got some Little Caesar's Pizza (in typical fashion, we ended up with four pizzas after I picked up two pizzas at the wrong Little Caesar's and then felt compelled to go pick up the two we'd actually ordered from a different store)*. He also got a "black knight" from Target, and is currently watching his favorite movie, the latest straight to DVD version of Brer Rabbit, featuring Danny Glover as the voice of Brer Turtle and Wanda Sykes as Sister Moon.
It can hardly be disputed: it pays to be potty-trained at the Clark house.
* Maybe someone out there can help us understand how Little Caesar's can offer large, one topping pizzas for $5.00, crazy bread for $1.00, and a special "Party Deal" to buy two one topping large pizzas, and two orders of crazy bread, for the bargain basement price of $12.99.
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