Wednesday, December 12, 2007

More of Not Much

At some point it seems that it might just be wise to quit blogging until there is something to say.

It could be weeks.

No one ever accused me of being wise though… and therefore I bring you:
More blogging about nothing.

I am currently nervously eating Hershey’s Miniatures the Limited Edition mint collection. I don’t recommend them. Very Disappointing. Still, it does not stop me from popping a sixth one into my mouth. While I binge on below average chocolate I am jiggling Lydia, watching the Dateline about the McCoy septuplets and blogging about nothing. If I don’t do these things I will have no excuse to stay in the warm house while Troy is outside trudging up and down the hill packing things from the shed and putting it in the Suburban (did I mention that it’s for sale?)

We’ve been staying in our own house the last two nights. We figured Matt and Tina could use some space and a break from the chaos and people tromping up and down to use their bathroom. We also thought it would be a good way to get the holes puttied and do some repairs. So far exactly ZERO people have come to see the house; it has not mattered that we’ve ignored the work up until now. Christmas in the worst housing slump in recent years ... seems like a really smart time to have a house on the market.

Earlier tonight my dear sweet husband suggested I leave him with the five littler kids (big girls are gone) and go to Target all by myself. I thought his idea was lovely. Unfortunately, all of my make-up, deodorant and hair products are in that bag I left in Iowa. In addition to that gigantic problem, I’d been crying … and we all know what post-cry eyes look like. It presented me with a major decision. Go to Target looking similar to a dishrag; or not go and pass up a few minutes of alone time. In the end I decided I could hide if I saw someone I knew and it was worth the risk to get out of the house for a few minutes.

Our former renter has not moved the last of her items. This has been great cause for annoyance. Because it is annoying I reasoned that if she is going to leave a really nice and warm fur and leather coat in my front closet even though her lease was up 13 days ago, I probably have a right to wear it. Once I got to Target I spent the entire time keeping my head down making sure that:
A. No one I knew was in the aisle I was entering -- and
B. The renter was not there to see me in her super nice coat

At one point in a toy aisle I thought I was coming upon Julie Lien from church. She is a very pretty lady and always looks put together. I moved so fast out of that aisle I scarcely missed crushing a small child and frightened everyone around me. It did not turn out to be Julie. Crisis averted.

Other than ducking around acting weird, my all-alone outing was fun. I tried hard to find the perfect piece of chicken for the kids’ teacher. In the end I settled for chocolate that will go with a wooden Haiti box.

Troy has been dealing with a mini-crisis at the Mission. One employee is suspended until someone can get down there to deal with it all face to face. That is not great news. Peter seems to be handling it well. We're praying for him.

Phoebe is all chatter lately. She learned to say "Thank you." She says it SO cute, it sounds just like Elmo. She trucks around all the time, her arms are a big part of her walk... she uses them as if they play a major part in propelling her forward. She screams for food whenever she sees someone with it. With this size group she can almost be screaming for food that is in sight every waking hour. When she says thank-you, it is usually for food.

The McCoy septuplet thing is over now. I think those people are totally amazing. I liked that they admit to crying a lot when their kids were smaller. It makes me feel better. I love my kids so much. They are each so different and unique, I would not change anything ... except the number of hands I have. I wish I had four hands. I don't cry until I find myself with four or more of them and no one to help. That is when, without fail, Noah wants to be wiped, Phoebe is crying for food or trying to fall down the stairs, Lydia is crying to be nursed or changed, and Isaac is talking non-stop about Transformers and asking questions about them that I cannot answer. Do Transformers go to Heaven? Are they real? Which one is my favorite? Don't I think they are wonderful? Do I want Optimus Prime for Christmas? When did Transformers start? And on and on and on. Other people do this many little kids thing, I know they do, I am hopeful that one day I will feel it is possible to do it with grace and maybe even class too.

Back to the Suburban. We haven't talked about it in a while. YOU don't have to buy it. Just find someone who will. Is that too much to ask? You certainly know someone who wants a large vehicle with a nice grill and four tires. The other option, find someone to buy the house and we will throw the Suburban in for free.

You see, selling the Suburban for a very fair price will allow the house to sit on the market longer and the payment to be made. If you just buy the house the Suburban won't really matter anymore. I'm opening up all sorts of options for you all. Any way you like it, we're flexible.

The end of blogging about nothing. Go about your business.