We're Home!

The unpacking continues but we made it to our new home and are happily settling in.

On the Road Again

Aaron and I have had this weekend circled on our calendars for what feels like FOREVER. This is our moving weekend. With some amazing help from our ward, we loaded the moving truck on Friday. After a lot of cleaning, Aaron drove the truck up on Saturday. Today Reuben and I will be joining him in Kensington Maryland.

Snake Killer Day

There's some debate going on in our family about whether we've got any Irish in us. If we do it's pretty small. Still I like St Patrick's day. I like green, and little people, and trickery, and potatoes and the start of spring. Still, I don't feel like I know how to celebrate. Wearing green and pinching people is only so exciting. But I don't think I'm up for taking Reuben out for some drunken revelry in the streets.

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The one story I can remember being told about St Patrick is that Ireland was infested with terrible poisonous serpents until he came. Taking pity on the people, St Patrick got to work and single handedly killed or drove all the snakes away. I know now this was a symbolic tale about driving out paganism and bringing in Christianity, but as a kid St Patrick always conjured up images of a lone man herding hords of snakes over precipitous cliffs to drown in the sea like lemmings. I kind of like that image. So maybe Reuben and I can go to the reptile house for St Patricks day. That's my best idea. Anybody else want to share alternatives?

Calling the Grammar Nerds

What is the name of the tense "would have ____ed" i.e. She would have loved to go to the party.?

Not sure how to punctuate the above. You can fill me in on that too.

The Sunday Update

In case you think taking pictures of Reuben is easy, here's proof that it takes some work. This is the look Mom got when she tried interrupting Reuben's basketball watching to take a picture. I've been getting this look a lot lately since Reuben came down with an awful fever-sore throat-ear infection and I'm the one who keeps trying to wipe his ever flowing nose, cram medicine down his throat and keep him from walking into walls (his ear infection has him slamming into EVERYTHING).

Despite his recent loss in depth perception and balance, Reuben has finally gotten the hang of puzzles. It's really fun to see him figure out how to fit the pieces in the right spot and it's nice to know he's still got some visual-spacial processing going on.

Here's Reuben lovingly attending to his ball. Reuben's fever was blazing Thursday evening. Even with antibiotics, tylenol and Motrin it shot above 102. We were doing everything we could to cool him down but it persisted and Reuben became eerily lethargic. I thought we were going to have to take him to the hospital. To check if Reuben was still responsive Mom had Amy show Reuben a ball. He looked up weakly, gathered his strength and declared "ball." That gave us all hope that he'd be okay and we were able to get enough fluids into him that the fever cooled.

The pictures below are before getting sick. Here's Reuben and Eliza practicing their Irish River Dance number for St Patrick's day. Not really. But they both do love getting into their Grandpa's truck bed where all their stomping is gratifyingly amplified by the plastic liner.

Eliza showing Reuben how it's done.

Reuben stomp-dancing.

400 Nobodies Ruined

One day in and I'm already swooning over how wonderful Nicholas Nickleby is. The book, not the actual character. Dickens captures the impact of economics on daily life in a way that make his stories painfully relevant. Debt, credit, loans, income, property - drive his characters and plots.

I think I sometimes imagine that things like foreclosure or the agony of mounting debt are modern inventions. Reading Dickens is a nice reminder that we humans are all the same and have been for a long time. In the first chapter Dickens sums up the financial trouble of Mr. Nickleby Sr. and it struck me as all too familiar:

Speculation is a round game; the players see little or nothing of their cards at first starting; gains may be great - and so may losses. The run of luck went against Mr. Nickleby; a mania prevailed, a bubble burst, four stock brokers took villa residences at Florence, four hundered nobodies were ruined and among them Nr. Nickleby.

"The Very house I live in," sighed the poor gentleman, "may be taken from me to-morrow. Not an article of my old furniture, but will be sold to strangers!'

The last reflection hurt him so much, the he took at once to his bed, apparently resolve to keep that, at all events.

Poor old Nickleby. Modern America feels your pain. I must now go back to packing. Sigh...

A Treat

Sometimes when I think about dying I get really excited. Before you begin to worry about me, the reason is because I can't wait for all the new stories. So many amazing authors, many of them compulsive writers, like Trollope or Balzac or Tolstoy, have passed on. Even after achieving fame and fortune, the continued to pump out volumes. They seemed unable to restrain themselves. To exist was to write. I figure, if their soul lives on in any form it is probably still scribbling away, pumping out great works that I can't wait to get my hands on.

But while I am constrained to this mortal abode I have a finite number of works to enjoy. So I find myself squirreling away certain books by certain authors to read in a time of need. For example, I adore Dickens but I haven't read all his novels. I've saved a few so I can have a book that is both new (re-reading doesn't give the same pleasure) and wonderful when life gets challenging. Since I am in the last week before the move, I'm cracking into my "book safe" and pulling out one of my stores. Nicholas Nickelby is going to help me and a very sick Reuben (fever of 102 last night) finish this dreadful packing and make our move up to Marylandia.

I'm curious. Does anyone else have an author or a book you turn to when you need a treat?