God's math

in my adult life (and i start counting with my first marriage) i have moved 15 times. the one on sunday will be my 16th.

in my childhood, i moved...........once.



i remember that childhood move. i remember the first night in the new house and how, with this super mean scowl on my face, i kicked the bathtub. hard. because i thought it was a stupid bathtub. and a stupid house.


in other words, i was scared.


i was scared that even though my friends were only a few blocks away, i would never see them again. i was scared because the stairs to the basement were open. and i thought i would fall through.

i was scared of breaking something in this stupid new house and getting into all kinds of trouble for it. who cared if i broke something in the old house - it was an old house! and we were leaving it!

i was scared that my parents would make me do a bunch of stupid chores in a big stupid house on a saturday morning when i would rather be sleeping. or writing in my diary about it.

but, none of those things happened (well, except for the stupid chores, dang it) and i grew up relatively unscathed by having moved to a stupid house just a few blocks away from my non-stupid house. 


and i never thought any more about it.


until now.


you might think that moving (for the 16th time - 17th if you count the childhood move to the stupid house - and 25th if you count the moves during college and grad school) would be old hat for me by now. and, in some ways, i guess, it is. i know how to pack. i know how to organize a move. i still don't know how to carry heavy boxes. nor do i want to learn.  :)

but what never seems to become old hat - at least not for me - are the feelings associated with a move. they're not always scary, like that first one was, but there's always something emotional about them - because there's always something you're leaving behind.



this time, i am leaving behind more than i ever have before: i am leaving 5 grandchildren.



i have left my daughter and son-in-law before and i have left my parents before. i have left friends before. i have left jobs.

i have left houses that i loved (yes, even the stupid one which, by the end of the summer of that fateful move, i had grown to love).

i have left really cool kitchens.

i have left homes with exposed brick and giant arching windows that look out over the skyline of columbus.

i have left neighbors who waved hello to me on the first nice day of spring, in their shorts and flip-flops.

i have left the security that comes from having lived in one place long enough to have put down roots. yes, roots can be put down, even if you move 25 times.


and so, i have a history of having left. a lot. i think everyone does. but i am not sure that everyone has a history of gaining even more. or, at least, of realizing that they have.

i realize that i have.



i realize that in the aftermath of the worst thing that has ever happened to me, God waved His hand and fixed it.

He fixed it in a way that i never imagined He would do nor did i even want Him to do. i did not want God to ever ever ever in a million years let me fall in love again. please, God, if you love me even a little, don't do that.

but, ha, God and His sneaky little ways. you know?



and God's math, i realize, is much better than mine (although i know that's not saying a lot)........

and He says 16 has always been His favorite number.
 


but what He says mostly is,



you can stop counting now, nancy.

move. no, wait.

instant oatmeal,

surrounded by

boxes.


gave the tv stand

away so

the tv is on

a

chair. two chairs

to be

exact.


down to

one plate,

one bowl,

one mug,

two

wine

glasses.

because a girl

has

her

priorities.


i can hear

the

furnace.

it's warm,

but not

very good

company.


the radio plays

"cool

change" by the

little

river

band.

i think about

calling

the

station and saying,

"are you

playing that

for

me?"



but.

i

don't.



i think i hear

my

echo.

helloooooooooooo in

there,

is

any

body

hoooooooooooome?



meanwhile,

in

georgia,

some

body

answers yessssssssssss.

says,

"you will be, too.

real

soon."




hold

on.

the next best thing to being there

i've never whittled.....but i've bought furniture.

never fed chickens.....cooked 'em!

never planted corn.....shucked it, though.

i have never ridden on a tractor.....but i know john deere green.

never made a quilt.....am in awe of them.

never ate at the whistle stop cafe.....but i've had fried green tomatoes.

i've never had moonshine.....but i've had boone's farm.

i have never spent sunrise till sundown doin' chores.....but my daughter has.

i've never played the banjo.....tried my hand at guitar once, though.

never been to the grand ole opry.....except on t.v.

the only one-room schoolhouse i've ever been to was part of a site-seeing tour.....but, i've been to school.

i have never spent an hour or two on the front porch of a country store.....but i have a porch, i've been to the country, and i've been to plenty of stores.

never gone huntin.....but i have a huntin' dog.

never cooked with lard.....but i've used crisco.

i've never lived in a broken down shack on a cold, gray sunday.....but i love the smoke trailing from its chimney.





i've never done a lot of things i love the most. isn't that sad? but, i do them all the time in my mind. isn't that great?





i've never been to a temptations concert.....but i have an imagination every bit as good as theirs. 

and that cozy, little home out in the country.

i'm sure about this: i like being wishy-washy.

i like to wash dishes. my mom does, too, so maybe that's where i got it.

i especially like to wash them with original green palmolive. i like the way it smells. it doesn't smell fancy like lavender or fancy like shea butter or fancy like any of that fancy stuff. it smells like soap. huh.

i have tried other dish detergents but personally, soap is pretty much soap. if your dishes are still dirty after you've washed 'em, that's on you - not the detergent. as for which brand cuts grease best- beats me. i eat the grease! the grease is the best part!  :)

for most of my dishes and pots and pans and glasses and stuff, i still put them in the dishwasher. but whenever i'm feeling nostalgic or just like i want to smell something clean or trail my fingers through soapy water, i wash my dishes. it helps keep me humble.


i wash all my clothes in the washing machine, though. even the hand-wash only ones.


i'm not that humble.

pippi's winter

they've done something with

my grass.

i don't mind.........i'm 

flexible. 

i love

everything.


i love people 

(yes, all of them)

and places and people and places and

things.

i love food. i love the mere thought 

of food. my nose can - and does - 

twitch 

when i'm dreaming of

it.


they've done something with

my grass.


i don't mind. 

i go in the snow,

track a little back 

in

like a friend,


as we sleep 


by the fire.

better than mayberry

frankly, i never knew that any place on earth could be better than mayberry, but canal winchester, ohio just might be. 

canal winchester is my new home, having moved here a little over 4 weeks ago. while i don't live in the actual little town itself, i am a mere 4-5 minutes from it, and when i am there (which is becoming increasingly more often), i wonder why anyone wouldn't choose to live like this.

in only 2 weeks time, i have discovered the following about canal winchester:

• it has an outstanding mom and pop computer repair shop, "elite networks," - http://columbusohiocomputer.com/ - that simply cannot be beat for quality, service, and old-fashioned (if it makes any sense to use "old-fashioned" and "computer" in the same sentence) "sit a spell" friendliness. yes. they actually offered me ice-cold lemonade while they ran some diagnostics. while i sat on the front porch of its late 19th century building.
• "paradise froyo" - a charming make-it-yourself frozen yogurt store in a charming refurbished victorian home. black wrought-iron cafe tables and chairs, as well as some very colorful adirondack ones, line the outdoor patio which faces the main drag. and of course, the main drag is tree-lined and american flag-flying. love!
• "the harvest moon cafe"  - http://www.hm-cafe.com/ - have i said "charming" yet? well, here's another. the harvest moon cafe is on the corner of the main drag and the other main drag - in other words, right smack in the middle of "downtown" canal winchester (and a block from paradise froyo. which is 3 doors down from elite networks. see how that works? small town. small town). it is an upscale cafe on one side and health food store/winery on the other. the food is local, gluten-free, hormone-free, everything-except-the-price free. they emphasize whole foods, hand-crafted beers from ohio, intriguing cocktails (the "blue waltz lady fills her dance card"), and plenty of dishes featuring bison. they even have a goat burger which, i'm not too sure about that one. their wine selection is small, as is fitting for canal winchester, but impressive, with a strong ohio presence, a decent french one, and a very nice south american one. of which i am sure pope francis approves.  :)
• across the corner from the harvest moon cafe is, quite aptly enough, "cornersmiths," a vintage/antique shop whose layout is genius. it is, like all of these wonderful gems, in a refurbished turn-of-the-century brick home, and the owners have presented their merchandise according to the room you're in. so, for example, in what used to be the front room of this home, you will now find old sofas, chairs, end tables, lamps, and decorative items. the kitchen is a special delight - with stuff from the 30s, 40s, and 50s. i especially loved the stuff from the 50s because i remember it. in the bathroom you will find handmade soaps and toiletries as well as crocheted hand towels and a claw-footed tub which yes, is for sale. 
• "georgie emerson's vintage" - a half block down from cornersmiths. it's a teensy, tiny shop with every item in it being either white, cream, beige, or brown. it's like walking into a hot fudge sundae, minus the cherry. but, wait! there IS a cherry.........a wreath made of dried cherries and white hydrangeas hangs on the front door.  :)
• "hidden lakes winery" - http://www.hiddenlakeswinery.com/ - this one is a bit on the outskirts of the actual downtown. it's so close, i can walk to it. it is right off a major thoroughfare which is right off st. rt. 33 and it is surrounded by the usual sites one comes to expect in america from busy intersections such as these - home depot, walmart, mcdonald's, taco bell, staples, kroger.......well, you get the drift. but, tucked just off the busy road (by a mere 300 feet) is hidden lakes winery and truly, it is one of those places that is so right under your nose you'd never know it was there. unless you got lucky and found out it was there. which i did. and when you ARE there, you are miles and miles away. it is a charming (sorry!) little place, situated on a lovely lake complete with dock, a white lattice-work gazebo, and plenty of trees and picnic grounds and outdoor dining encouraged. inside, the motif is exposed brick and a fireplace, so fall can't get here soon enough to suit me (which, regardless of hidden lakes winery, fall can't get here soon enough to suit me). plus, they have live music two nights per week, right by the lake, as the sun sets. i have to pinch myself.

i am looking forward to finding out what other well-kept secrets this little town has. already, i know of two in particular that i want to explore - "the wigwam," which i understand has been there for like forever and is your basic, small town diner. that will probably turn out to be the best place of all, and the site of the former canal (yes, there really used to be one) around which this town sprung up. 

there may be no place on earth better than mayberry, but if there is, this is it.

and it's home.

:)

home

a place that has everything.

a door - front or back - through which i walk and find,

even if no one is there,

a hug.

a basset hound who licks her way 

to hello and the breeze

lifts her ears.

i smell new house smell and fresh

rosemary.

i lay out the chops and thank 

God.

a kitchen window sill

everyone should have a kitchen window sill over the sink. and everyone should have a pie cooling on it.

many homes don't have kitchen window sills over the sink because.....well, i don't know because why. it makes no sense to build a house without a kitchen window over the sink, but they do it all the time.

kitchen window sills or, more correctly, the absence of them, is why the world is in such a mess. if you think i'm being simplistic, just ask yourself this......have you ever entered a kitchen with a pie cooling in the window sill and everything wasn't o.k.? 

of course you haven't. pshaw!


wars absolutely can.not be waged if an apple pie is sitting in the window. neither can kids playing outside fuss and fight very long once they catch a whiff of that heavenly aroma.


oh.........that's right. kids don't play outside. 



another reason why the world's such a mess.

happy new year, eli's mom

eli's mom, debbie, and i co-babysat the twins and the triplets last night. i hope we get to do it again next year - and many years after that - because it was the perfect way to spend that one night of the year that nobody is quite sure how to spend.

for those of you who don't know debbie, let me say this: picture einstein morphed into kathy griffin morphed into the dali lama morphed into mother teresa morphed into roseanne morphed into mother-of-the-year . that's more or less debbie.

i'm not sure which of those personas she was last night - definitely not einstein - when the babies started crying and i suggested that we feed them.

"do they eat?" she asked. perfectly seriously.


after we picked our hysterically cracking up selves up off the floor, we fed them.


(those poor babies........thank God they hadn't a clue.)

:)

Christmas - and everything - with 5 grandchildren

50 fingers and 50

toes

who knows

who does such wondrous things but


God?

those who can, do. those who can't, teach. those who can't teach work at the butterball hotline.

it's a turkey, people. you're supposed to be smarter than it is.


all the hoopla - every year, without fail - over how to cook a turkey is explanation enough why there's no peace in the middle east and why our national debt is in the trillions (and climbing). if we can't even cook dinner, it's hopeless.

cooking a turkey is not the rocket science that everybody seems to think it is. basically what you need is a turkey and an oven.

you can argue all day, if it makes you happy, over whether to baste or not. whether to brine or not. whether to stuff, whether to unstuff. cover with foil/don't cover with foil. fresh herbs, dried herbs, no herbs. (speaking of no herbs, i had a great-uncle once named herb. well, herbert, to be exact. nobody in my family could agree on which herbs, if any, to rub under (over?) the skin of the turkey, but we sure could agree on this - don't invite uncle herb(ert) to dinner.)

what kind of salt  - regular, kosher, or sea - is one of the newer entries into the GREAT TURKEY DEBATE. olive oil vs. butter is also gaining some attention.

once the turkey is done, the science is far from over. now you gotta figure out when to carve it........immediately, 5 minutes from now, 10 minutes from now, 30 minutes from now, or never. norman rockwell was a fan of the latter.


i threw a naked turkey into the oven one year with my eyes still closed from sleep. i remembered to put it in a pan, but that was all i remembered to do. several hours later, it smelled like heaven in here. coupla hours after that and it tasted like it, too. (i thought about calling the butterball people and rubbing it in their faces, but rub them with what - salt? herbs? dried?..... )

the thanksgiving book

granted, abby is trained as an early childhood educator, but still. it kills me what a great mother she is.

yesterday, when i dropped off the laundry, i noticed that the playroom had a book about thanksgiving displayed in an artful and accessible way. when i was a young mom, i displayed abby's thanksgiving book(s) in an artful and accessible way, too. they were thrown on the floor.

but, no. abby had the book on the toy shelf, above the section of the toy shelf where the rest of the books go. in other words, kind of like how they display books at the library. only this wasn't the library. this was their home. the home with 2 toddler twins and 2-month old triplets in it, don't forget.

the rest of the play area was organized and "theme-friendly." that's my term, not hers, but suffice it to say that the whole thing coordinated. the theme is thanksgiving and the play materials reflect that.

when i was a young mom, my "theme" was thanksgiving, too, and abby's play materials reflected that - she had mashed potatoes on her dollies and stuffing on her stuffed animals. (come to think of it, having stuffing on her stuffed animals is theme-friendly!)

as i walked from the playroom to the family room, i saw the triplets on their backs, on their "play mats," and they were developmentally appropriately swatting at the little toys that dangled over their heads. they were dressed in coordinating outfits and all was right with the world.

well, not really. they weren't dressed like pilgrims. and the toys they swatted at weren't turkeys.

bad mother, abby. baaaaaad mother.

if you're lucky, this will happen to you.

(my son-in-law, eli bowman, wrote this. about himself. about all of us....... if we're lucky.)


Here's the truth about your health. It can be taken away from you before you even know it. You can be doing all kinds of things right and all kinds of things wrong, but somewhere down the line you are likely to get some kind of curveball. That curveball may vary in severity, but it catches you off guard just the same. I got a curveball today, AND an MRI. 3 bulging discs pressing on nerves and 2 degenerative discs to go along with arthritis in my spine. I can't pick up my babies on my own, my already exhausted wife is working twice as hard now while I'm home to make up for some of the things I can't do and won't be able to do for awhile, and I can't play around with the twins the same way as before. There are lots of things I just "can't" do anymore. I ultimately have two options. The first would be to feel sorry for myself and to bring that self-pity into my physical therapy sessions where it would lessen the effectiveness of the treatment. Then I could go home and bring that depression into my home and burden my family with it. This would make the next several months terrible for anyone I loved and cared about. They would have to watch me suffer through painful therapy while defeated emotionally because I'm thinking that my youth has just left the building. I could do that to them and myself. I could choose to be a shell of a man for 7-12 months...or I could take option two, which is to put on the armor, apply the war paint, yell for someone to beat the drum, and march head on into this thing while looking it straight in the face and yelling "You and I both know that I am going to beat you!". So I choose to be the one who gains the upper hand. I choose to take my health seriously, and forsake the habits that only lead to less years with my grandchildren. I choose to listen to all the doctors and do EXACTLY as they say, to the letter, without shortcuts, even if alone. I choose to wear my back brace at work, because it means that I care more about being around for my family than I do about what Jane Doe in Underwriting thinks about the way it looks. I choose to play with my kids, even if it means standing up or sitting down in a chair instead of rolling around on the floor. I choose to be as helpful as possible to my sweet wife, even if that means she has to hand me a baby while I'm standing by the changing table so I can change a diaper JUST to hand them back to Mommy so she can lay them to bed. I choose to have a healthy back again. So let's draw out our war plans, Docs, and rally the troops. Tell them it will be a painful battle that will last for months or possibly even years. Tell them that they're fighting for the greatest cause one can fight for...love. Give them the war paint...now give it to me...and let's go win my back...back!

turns out, i DO have a chest and the reason i know is that i have some things to get off it.

i saw a pro-life poster this week with the picture of an unborn baby and the words, "pretend i'm a tree and save me." i don't know how the hell you can't hear the wake-up call in that one.


you would not know that abby and eli have 2-year old twins and newborn triplets in their house. you just plain wouldn't know it. everything that everybody worried and fretted about just plain hasn't happened. to my knowledge, all 5 have never screamed at the same time. the triplets are on a schedule and have been since day one. you walk in the house and it is organized. there are significant periods of quiet and calm, but not so much  that it's unnatural. in between those quiet and calm times, things are lively and loud! when the twins aren't home, abby and eli usually have a candle or two going and the house smells wonderful. who ever would have thought that, of all things, abby and eli would have time to light candles - but they do.

the bottles and all the rest of the feeding paraphernalia are lined up neatly on the kitchen counter. extra bottles - full of breast milk or formula - are always available. i have never once not had a bottle just ready to go. i remember when abby was a baby and, try as i might, i was always a bottle or two short when feeding time rolled around, and i had to hold a crying baby in the crook of my neck and try to assemble a bottle with one hand. i have never seen anyone do that at abby and eli's.

they keep those blanket thingies for swaddling in the crib, along with a blanket, a burp pad, a pacifier, and a cuddly stuffed animal for each baby, and those things are always there. they are always there and they are always laid out neatly and in order, 1-2-3, all in a cute little row. all you have to do is snuggle each baby into his or her own little papoose and away you go.

the beds are made.

the toys, during playtime, are all over the place and yet, not all over the place. the twins have learned (ok, are learning) where the playroom is and they are being taught to keep their toys there. which isn't to say that they don't have toys in their bedrooms because of course, they do. but they know which toys belong in which room and they can play with wild abandon within those respective rooms. but. once playtime is over, it's time to clean up. do they like this? no, they do not. do abby and eli have to keep coaching and teaching them, over and over, how to do it? yes, they do. do abby and eli just give up, sigh, and just go ahead and clean it up themselves because it's easier that way and besides, they have their hands full feeding 3 babies? no. they do not. despite what's going on - and there is always a lot going on - they insist that the twins clean up their messes. it's nothing short of admirable, really, because i am here to tell you right now......i know that if i were in their situation, i would not have this kind of perseverance. i just wouldn't. trust me. i know myself very well.

their lives have not stopped. so far, they have taken the entire brood to the mall, to the zoo, to the pumpkin farm, to the park for family photos, and to church. i'm still waiting for abby to get a little bit older before i schlep her to the zoo!

in short, they've got it together. they are making this work. and they are happy doing it. you should hear eli when he talks to the kids......he's just so funny and goofy and entertaining! those kids practically have robin williams as patch adams for their dad.

and their mom?

priceless.


so, yeah. pretend they're trees.

and save them.

there's such a thing as a good lump

during "breast cancer awareness month," you might not think so, but there is.


lumps in your breast? not good.

lumps in your mashed potatoes? not good.

lumps (of coal) in your stocking? not good.


but lumps in your throat because your daughter, who turns 29-years old today, says to the world, "ok, world, hit me with your best shot".......and the world hits her with the divorce of her parents and the death of her dad at the precise same time that her first 2 babies are born and the loss of her husband's job on the day they were supposed to close on their house and the loss of her husband's father 6 months after that and guess what - you're pregnant with triplets - .........

and she gets back up - each time - with style and grace. with determination and smiling. with belief in the eternal goodness and rightness of everything.....because that's how God planned it.......

a lump in your throat because of that?


yeah. that's a good lump.

no, SERIOUSLY

the triplets don't wake abby and eli up in the night - abby and eli wake them up.

the entire family was at easton town center exactly one week to the day after the tripilittles were born. the twins played in the fountains, everyone out of diapers ate chipotle, and everyone whose taste buds could tolerate it ate frozen yogurt at yagoot. (blech - yagoot! boo! hiss!)

the entire easton town center field trip lasted about 4 hours. lemme see you try that with 2-year old twins and newborn triplets.

and everyone was happy. yes, happy.

the trips go down for the night at the same time the twins do - 7:00 p.m.  - which gives abby and eli a nice, quiet evening together. nice, quiet evening??? are you kidding me???

no, ma'm, i am not.

the beds are made, the toys are picked up twice a day, the twins are robust and happy and healthy, the triplets are defying all the odds, and abby and eli are smiling.

are they nuts?

are they high?


well, if by "high" you mean in love with God and a purpose-driven life.......

yes.

"this is our home. i LOVE it!" - olivia bowman, 2 1/2 years old

at the end of a BIG, BIG day, the twins brushed their teeth, went potty, and had their requisite drinks of water. then.....eli led his BIG, BIG family in nighttime prayer.

as she toddled down the hallway to her bedroom, olivia said, "this is our home. i LOVE it!"

what a perfect thing to say on september 10, 2011.


what a perfect thing to say today, too.

does clorox work on allergies?

well, we're about to find out!


allergy season is in full-swing here in central ohio, aka the corn belt, the rust belt, and the allergy belt. me? personally? i would like to come after this state with a belt.

but, anyway, my allergies are about to send me to the nuthouse. but instead of going to the nuthouse, i am going to go to abby and eli's house. to-day. to clean. to clean from top to bottom, in advance of abby's return home on monday. not to be confused with her leaving home on friday. (you need to pay better attention.)


so, anyway.......i am going to clean from top to bottom (but no bottoms, eli. you're still on duty for that, dude. sorry.), and i am going to try to do it with my eyes closed because it is impossible to sneeze and keep your eyes open at the same time.

and i am going to try to do it with my throat all half-swollen shut and red and itchy. which actually might not be such a problem because who needs a throat to clean house? i mean, you need one, but you don't need need one.

and, on top of everything else, i am going to do all of this - top to bottom - with absolutely no alcohol (because it's against abby and eli's religion. no, i mean, literally. it is). except for what i might be able to find in the cleaning solvents.

JUST KIDDING!

(sort of.)


ahhhhh-choooo!

white men can't jump. i mean, white folks can't jump. i mean, white folks can't clean house.

i had a client once - a little 8-year old african-american girl - who very casually and matter-of-factly (as if everyone knew this) mentioned that "white folks can't clean house."

i remember thinking this was some kind of reverse racism or something, and after she said that to me, i started asking around - to see if other african-americans held the same view. turns out, a lot of them did. (i had one kid tell me that white people don't buy bleach.)

well, racist or not, it might be true. folks. i mean, it might be true. white folks.

i bought a bagless vacuum cleaner and whoa nellie!..........have you ever used one of those things????..........lemme just tell you somethin.........

i need to go buy some bleach!

living in the most famous city in the u.s.

for a few days, at least, i am living in the most famous city in the united states.

no, not new york. not chicago or los angeles and not even san francisco.....which comes in an arguable third place with conservatives and a definite first place with libs.

i am living in columbus, ohio, and practically everyone on the planet is paying attention to my city.

not because i live here  and not because my daughter, who also lives here,  is pregnant with triplets. and she already has twins.

not because we have great restaurants here. i mean, great.

columbus, ohio does not have practically everyone on the planet's attention because we have a replica of the santa maria docked on the scioto river.

not because it is Test Market #1 in the entire u.s. of a.

not because we have a world-class zoo. i mean, world class.

not even because jack nicklaus hails from here or because nancy wilson hails from here or because rascal flatts hails from here. and if you don't know who rascal flatts is,

you must hail from san francisco.