Saturday, March 14, 2009

Life in space - An Elijahlogue

When E saw me crying, he sat on lap, put his arms tenderly around my neck, leaned gently into my chest and said with great understanding:

"It's like Apollo 1 blew up in your heart."


Wednesday, March 11, 2009

On my mind

There's been a lot on my mind lately.

From the mundane (Such as "Whoever invented the idea of packing school lunch the night before is GENIUS. Turns out, organized people arent just being smug jerks - they really are happier than you." and "Got a new pair of boots with some unexpected money that came my way - those Frye's I've had my eye on for about 12 years now.")

To the sublime (Such as "Learned some great new things about icons last night at our Lent soup supper thing. from the presenter: 'They weren't stupid, you know. They knew Jesus wasnt born looking like a little man. It's just a way to show that he existed already before, that he was there with the Father from the beginning.' or 'Mary shows us all how to carry Christ out into the world.' " and "So far I'm not seeing the economy have the effect that my depression era friends tell me about - the one where the guy comes to the back door and your mom gives him a little job and a plate of something to eat. I'm thinking we all might be hunkering into our own corners more than we need to. Am thinking/praying about how to respond to that.")

Also, could catch you up on the ibot (AWESOME), maybe get some ideas from you about a kitchen renovation we are thinking about or a Palm Sunday worship I'm starting to think about that incorporates the Haggadah.

However. I cant think about that right now.

Because E is home sick. He's pretty much divided his time between bed and couch since Friday afternoon. It's so weird to see him like this because usually he never sits still. He's got a high fever, coughing, and lots of, er, production of body fluids of all kinds. We took him to the doc yesterday who diagnosed infection, not virus and put him on a 10 day course of that nasty pink antibiotic. We were a little freaked at his oxygen levels (down at 90, which in the old days would have gotten him a trip to the hospital and the O2 mask) but the doc didnt worry because "he doesnt look bad." Evidently that means that he is not blue.

(Again, reminded us of the old days, when E struggled to breathe pretty much all winter. When we would finally call the doctor's office to see if we should come in or keep treating at home, they'd always ask "is he blue?". I mean, honestly, does anyone really call an office where you have to push buttons, listen to hold music and get routed around for 20 minutes if your child is BLUE? I would hope not.)

The good thing is with all the time we have for sitting around, we are ripping through Narnia books like gangbusters. Which hold up pretty well in adulthood, so we're enjoying them equally. Read all at once, the books turn out to have more an arc as a series than I remember. Also, turns out my tendency toward excessive parentheses usage is a direct result of too much CS Lewis as a kid. Man, that guy can parenthesee. Also, write about food in a way that sends me to the toast and butter every time.

Anyway, it's hard to think of the other things I want to write about, because they are crowded out with about 30% worry and about 70% gratitude for living in times in which the nasty pink medicine means that we'll have our boy back in a day or two.