The Search Is Over

"You were with me all the while."  lyrics by Survivor


We have bought a home.  Actually, more accurately, we are in the process of buying a home.  Even more accurately, we are in the obnoxiously tedious part of buying a home.  Paperwork, phone calls, scheduling, money, money money....but, still.  WE ARE BUYING A HOME!

Timing is a funny thing.  I've actually known about this home for awhile.  The sellers are friends of ours, and when they were first getting ready to sell, I walked through it and, well, kind of dismissed it.  The colors weren't right, everything seemed dated.  Nothing clicked.

In the meantime, I have looked at dozens of homes in our area.  I started to get used to what you could get for what price.   When we looked at the house across the street and really liked it, I considered the price.  At that home's listed price,  we could get a place that was pretty much move-in ready.  I didn't love the kitchen, but figured something could be done about that in the future.  Like all the lots in our neighborhood, it didn't really have a yard, just lots and lots of trees.  It included 3700 sq ft on a 0.33 acre lot.  Pretty solid numbers.  It was a strong, strong possibility.  Definitely the frontrunner.

Then, I remembered this house, which I hadn't really forgotten, but hadn't really ever considered a contender. It was listed for slightly more but was quite a bit bigger (although 3700 sq ft is definitely plenty) and had 15 acres.  A LOT more bang for our buck.  For Jay's sake, I wanted him to at least see it before I committed him to living in a neighborhood.

It was funny walking through it a second time.  The first time, I really was such an inexperienced prospective buyer.  The second time, however, I was much, much more buyer wise and my eyes were opened.  This home was awesome!  As I watched Jay adjust to the color combinations, which wouldn't be anybody's favorite except the woman who decorated with them, I urged him to look at the house in its essentials.  Size of rooms.  Layout.  Flow.  Function.  Even as he said, "But the countertops are teal." I reassured him that those these were cosmetic.  Changeable.  The kitchen itself was in a great location.  Behind a rock wall.  Windows facing south.  Open to a beautiful dining room and close to the garage.  He started to see it like I was seeing it.

And we both kind of knew.

We talked about it for a few weeks and Jay tentatively started looking for financing, an act which convinced me that he must really be serious about the property.  We went back and looked at it again and the boys ran through the house asking, "Can we live here!?"

We made an offer right as Spring Break was starting and had a contract on the home by the end of the week. Now comes the inspections and appraisals and all the yucky stuff, but I'm thrilled.  The move will be accompanied by a school and ward change, neither things we were looking to do, but accept as part of the package.  We will be closer to Jay's work, closer to family, and have some fantastically awesome neighbors(my friend, Michelle, who has kids my kids ages.  whee!)

I hope this doesn't sound like bragging.  I feel so blessed to finally have a house that we can call our own and to know that this home gives our boys so much room to explore and grow is wonderful. To know that we've waited until the time was right and we could move into something that will be the place we raise our boys is worth it because this is it - our home.  And in a few years, when we've saved some more pennies, we can say bye-bye to the teal counters and blue carpet.  We can even move the bathtub to the bathroom, where it belongs (you'll see).

Now, for some pictures.  Just a few.  O.K.  A lot.  I kept them small so there would be slightly less scrolling but you can always click on any of the pictures to see in greater detail.  Ready for the tour?

The front of the house.  The driveway extends to the garage but there is a small parking area and a circular drive here in front.

Another angle of the front

I parked in front of the garage so this is where the tour begins.  This is all the built in storage in the garage.  

The door on the left goes into the mud room.  The door on the right goes to the sun room.

This isn't taken from the garage door but from the entryway into the laundry room.  I'm looking at the mudroom (the door to the garage would be on the right) and the open door goes into the sun room.  Lots of storage and space for shoes, backpacks and miscellany.  

Turning around 180 degrees is the laundry area.  I love this room.  To the left is space for another fridge or upright freezer.  

The main floor guest bathroom.

This will be Jay's office on the main floor next to the laundry.  I've always wanted an office where he can come in from his car and put his papers in before they filter into the rest of the house (i.e. our bedroom.  I can't ever throw anything away, even post it notes or things written onto quarter-sized scratch paper because it might just contain that phone number that he needs next week.  Oh...it's happened) .

First view of the kitchen.  The countertops are  in excellent condition and a really high quality corian.  But, they are green.

The floors are Pergo, not wood (not my favorite, but again, perfectly fine...even nice) and the fridge is a humongous Sub-Zero.  Seriously, it's like a fridge and a half.  

This is the breakfast nook with a built in hutch.  

Taken from the breakfast nook looking into the kitchen.  

This living room.  

The dining room.

master bedroom from the doorway.  That entertainment center is built-in.  I'm not sure what to do with that.  

Opening from the left side of the master bedroom is the master sitting area.  The woman who built this house decided she wanted her bathtub in here, instead of in the adjoining bathroom.  More...sunlight?  Exposure?  Spokane girls, I am destined to have a mauve bathtub, no?  

Master bathroom.  Lots of changes in store but lots of space to work with.

Cedar lined walk-in closet.

View of main rooms as you come from master bedroom.

Main foyer

sun room

a real basement.  It doesn't have any windows, but there is a bathroom.

And a walk in safe.  You know...for all of our gold bars:)

A rock wall keeps the kitchen from being viewed as you walk in - something that I really wanted.  For some reason,  if I could see a kitchen from the front door, it was a big, big strike against the house.  Every house I've lived in, you can see right into the kitchen from the front door.  My kitchen is not my cleanest room and that has never made sense to me.  

At the top of the stairs just behind that rock wall from the previous picture is this landing including storage and a wet bar.  

Bedroom #1

An upstairs bathroom with a door to the hall and another door to one of the bedrooms.

This bedroom, in fact.  It's the largest of the three upstairs and has a large walk-in closet.  

Here's bedroom #3.

Turning around from the mini-bar is this hallway towards the deck on top of the garage.

It's the size of the double oversized garage and has fantastic views.  Here's Sam enjoying a bit of pre-spring doing his homework.

A view from the deck to the front yard and circle drive.

the stairs off the deck to the backyard.  

The back deck. Or stage for the family reunion:)

We are set to close May 15th but won't move in until the school year is over, two weeks later. We are hoping that moving locally will be less painful than the big interstate moves we are used to, but I have a feeling all moves are painful.

I'm surprised by how calm we feel. This really feels right. I always thought I'd walk into a home and just...SHABLAM! That would be the one. But, it took a couple of times with this property. My shallowness couldn't get past the mauve tub. But now me and that mauve tub have a date. May 15th!!!

Spring Break 2010

By the numbers, it may not look like a great trip.  1,085 miles in each direction (that's 2,170 if you don't want to do the math).  34 hours of driving split into four days.  Approximately 8 tanks of gas at $45 a tank (I speed, we have a ski rack on top of the van and I drove into a head wind the entire return trip.  Seriously....how can it be windy in four states simultaneously???) is cheaper than airfare, but still...it adds up.

Sure, there's the cost and the time and the wear and tear on the automobile (that was for you, Dad), but each number was made worth when we saw grass instead of snow (and it was even green in places!), daffodils and tulip buds instead of barren branches and flowering fruit trees.  We needed to see Spring and, thankfully, we saw it.  

There was probably somewhere we could have gone that had all those things but required less effort to enjoy them, but none of those places could also offer four best cousin friends, one saint of a brother-in-law, and a beloved sister for plenty of fun.

I present:  Spring Break 2010

Older cousins went to school on Monday morning, but this backyard had everything three boys and a mom who haven't played on dry land (roads don't count) in over three months needed.

Seth has improved so much at playing catch.

Self-portrait with the big Nikon.  I don't know how you pro-photogs do it.  I don't take many because it is not easy to hold steady and shoot.  

It makes me sad to think that this boy has passed toddler-hood without ever having his own slide (or even a legitimate yard, for that matter).  Can you tell he loved it?

Do you know that song from the 70s they used to show in Primary called, "I'll Build You A Rainbow"?  I have strong memories of hearing that song and vowing to be that mother - the cool one that plays football with her son.  I was singing it in my head when one of Seth's spirals came towards me and I jammed my finger trying to catch it.  At first it didn't hurt too bad.  Then, there was a sharp, stabbing pain each time I moved my pinkie finger.  I iced it for a few hours, then had an awful night sleep as it throbbed and seemed to hurt in any position.  Ridiculous!  Not exactly the scenario from the song, you know?  The next day, I splinted it and taped it to my fourth finger, and it remained that way for the rest of the week.

Then, Ansel and Jonas and Owen came home from school and the outdoor play got a whole lot more fun.

Still, there was plenty of this sight.  The five older boys each have their own DS, and they could play Lego Battles with each other (again, it kind of freaks me out that these machines can "communicate" with each other just by proximity).  

While there, we were able to celebrate Jen's birthday with her.  We had yummy mexican food at one of her favorite restaurants.

These two were great friends all week.

As were these two. I love my sister!

Jen's husband, Christopher, had a fun "How well do you know Jennifer?" game show planned for her party.  He had filled balloons with prizes and if the kids answered their question right, they were given a balloon to pop.  Jen was the final contestant.  I think this is a cute picture of the two of them.

She made her own Lemon Meringue Pie.  I offered, but as I've never made one before and she wanted one that actually looked and tasted good, I let her, even though it offended my birthday sensibilities.  We have both given up chocolate for the month and needed a plan B for a birthday treat.  It worked nicely.

Sam and Owen with Flat Stanley.

One one of the afternoons, Jen took her boys out of school at lunch time and we treated them to Chuck E. Cheese.  No pizza, just games.  It was fun.

Giving Henry his own cup of tokens worried me, but he actually handled them well.  I'm not sure he made any baskets, but I loved that he tried.

Jonas mastered this game and had the tickets pouring out.  Soon, he convinced his cousins to do the same and while they went through their tokens quickly, they earned a lot of tickets.  They were thrilled with their prizes that they bought, that were all promptly lost and broken.

Didn't take pictures of exercising with Jen (I went to a pump class with her and did T-Tapp a few times), or when we took the kids swimming, but it was a great week.

The cousins gather for one final shot on the morning of our departure. We returned to snow and tried not to cry as it snowed three more inches yesterday (that have all melted). We miss their spring but we miss them more.

Five For Friday - Quick, Tired and Not Very Positive Edition

1.  I have so many great posts in my head. Funny ones.  Philosophical ones.  Emotional ones.  Well, at least they are great in my head and I want so much to remember them.   But....NO TIME!  And, if I do have time, I'm kinda tired.  Waa.  If only I had some kind of transcription equipment where I could just talk out loud and have the words make it to my blog.  If only I was that important.  I do realize, in case you were wondering, that I'm not:)

2.  Jay had to ref a fourth grade basketball game tonight.  Holy cow.  Stressful!  It all started well and good (it wasn't an official game but since a lot of the players are leaving for Spring Break this weekend, there wouldn't be enough people to play on Saturday) but, then, Jay didn't call a few ticky tack fouls and, instead, let them play.  Of course, the parents on the opposing team (there was a conflict of interest as Jay coaches Seth's team, but no one else showed up with a whistle) started getting miffed when he didn't blow the whistle when their kids were fouled.  Never mind that he didn't blow the whistle when their kids fouled our kids, that seemed to be beside the point.  There I was, watching the man I love and admire, sincerely try to do his best to ref while simultaneously watching parents on the sideline roll their eyes at him and make snarky comments.  At one point, he smiled, handed the opposing team's coach the whistle and asked him if he would prefer reffing, but he refused it.  It was much easier blaming Jay for everything his team was doing wrong.  Minutes later, he told his kids that if fouls weren't being called, then they should foul.  You should have seen the whoops and hollers his boys gave.  Then they all started air punching each other and laughing about fouling.  My heart was racing the entire time.  I abhor conflict, especially if I'm in any way involved.  It still makes me upset thinking about it.  Jay kept his cool, but I hope he never has to ref again.  People are mean.  And near-sighted.

3.  I'm leaving in the morning for another long road trip.  The school district changed Spring Break to coincide with the local college's Spring Break, so we get a week off during the balmy second week of March.  Jay, being low man on the totem pole at work, has to work every single day as two of the six radiologists are gone for the entire week and no more than two guys can be off on any given day.  Stinky.  As he's hitting his peak mileage for marathon training and helping his dad out on the farm this week because both his dad and older brother are out of town for most of the week, I decided to nip feeling like a martyr in the bud and take off for our own fun.  I considered going to the much warmer Arizona, but it didn't feel right.  Then, I decided to really celebrate the misery of March and go to Montana, but my mom wasn't even going to be home.  Thankfully, sister Jen is ready to welcome our brood for a few days.  It's not close, but her home is such a great place to be.  The boys and I can't wait.  Sadly, we'll have to.   It takes two days to drive there.

4.  I went blond again.  I liked having dark locks for about 3 days but  then felt blah and mousy.  Really, I was irritated that something like hair color even mattered to me.  It grows back, right?  C'est la vie!  Not so much.  Once I accepted my shallowness, I decided that it's o.k. to prefer lighter hair.   So what if I'm destined to be that woman who has seriously outdated hair because I'm unwilling to try something new?  Did the Farrah ever really go out of style?  It did?  At least the Mullet is timeless.  What?  No one likes the party in the back anymore?  Well, at least the Rachel is here to stay.  That too?  Hmmmmm.  Still, I think blond foils with a long (not so long anymore.  Someone got a little scissor happy) inverted bob are sure to stay.  This hairstyle is like leg warmers:  never really out of style.  And if people claim it to be so, they just aren't cool enough to get it. 

5.  I have been reading The Brothers Karamazov for a month and I'm still not done.  I know it's not uncommon to take a month to read something,  but my slow statistics are embarrassing to me.  I even like the book.  It's just...not at all easy to read.  So, just like blogging, many nights I'm simply too tired to give the required amount of thinking necessary to make it worth it.  Or, I do and read like ten pages.  Ten!  When there are almost 800 to check off, ten doesn't really make too big a dent.  Anyways, for the first two weeks, I felt frustrated because if I told someone what I was reading, I couldn't really pronounce it.  I didn't know if it was kara-ma-zov with the accent on "kara" or karma-zoff or what.  Lucky for me, I have a Russian friend and asked her how to say it.  She pronounced it in a way I will never be able to reproduce, but when I repeated ka-rah-ma-zov, with the accent on the "rah" she smiled and said, "Good enough."   So, now I can confidently tell people what I'm reading.  Still.  A month later.

Happy Spring Break!  No?  Well...Happy End of Winter for the rest of you who live within the boundaries of school districts who have any sense.

Time With The Ladies

Whenever I do anything with friends, Jay refers to it as my time with the ladies. As in, "Are you skiing with the ladies today?" Or, "I won't disturb you. You're with the ladies." It's a quirk of his to completely disappear if there are ladies around, as if all our concentrated estrogen makes him uncomfortable somehow. Funny man.

But, I do enjoy my time with the ladies. On Wednesday, I skied with my fab friends Lori, Lanae and Michelle. The entire morning was spent laughing and catching some sweet air. Actually, the laughing was usually a direct result of not catching that sweet air. Watch for Michelle, aka SuperG, at the next Olympics. Probably competing in the aerials, but maybe even in her namesake. Thanks to her, I have these pictures to share:

This is where I live.  When I really think about this, it's almost inconceivable to think that I could ever be grumpy.  This is what Beautiful looks like for me.  

Lori, Lanae, me and Michelle.  

Yesterday, I hosted bookgroup at my house.   Ours is set up so that whoever hosts picks the book and provides dinner.  I served Jay's Chile Verde (NOT quick to make) Dominican beans and chipotle lime rice.  It was a nice evening.  Each month I feel more and more comfortable with these fine ladies.

Back row:  Me, Sue, Lisa
Front row:  Peggy, Janine, Laurie and Beth

Of course, Jay left with the boys for basketball practice and was comfortably gone for most of their visit, but he was asked to take this picture and was thus forced to be in the same room for a small period of time.  It's my little of way of making sure he gets time with the ladies too.

Filling in the Hours

1. I just got done swimming a mile. I don't think I've swam as a form of exercise since I was about...oh...fifteen and certifying to become a lifeguard. My side of the family is having a reunion this summer and, in January, we started a program to motivate those who desired to get in shape. Each month, besides totaling up points for minutes exercised and other good habits, there is an exercise and food challenge. My challenge for the month was to swim a mile. I cannot tell you how much I was dreading it. At the local rec center, one mile is thirty-five laps or seventy lengths. When I read that sign, I made a mental plan of how long this might take me. I figured I'd swim thirty five lengths, possibly leave the pool for nourishment (I really thought this might take a couple of hours) and hopefully finish by noon.

Well, as soon as I started, I realized that one mile wasn't going to be nearly as difficult as I initially feared. It took about an hour, and I alternated lengths doing the crawl stroke, or freestyle, and recovered on the return length doing the breast stroke. It was a good system for me and I just might work swimming in as a regular part of exercising. It was pretty fun. If I do, however, I will invest in a cap and goggles. I know it wasn't pretty when I was flailing my head around trying to get my long bangs out of my face and mouth to breathe. Hey, the lifeguards have to have someone to giggle at, right?

2. You know those paper vests they give you at the doctor's office when they need to do a breast exam? You kind of look like Aladdin for awhile but I've never had any confusion about if the opening goes in the front or in the back. Yesterday, I had such an appointment and instead of the paper vest, I got a regular old hospital gown. I was so confused because I knew the purpose, but if I wore it with the opening in the front (which I tried at first) it felt all wrong. I took a gamble and switched the gown around so the opening was in the back and my doctor didn't say anything, but did have to take my arms out of the sleeves each time she performed her examination. I asked the resident expert, Jay, later in the evening what the proper protocol was when given a gown. He reassured me that the opening belonged in the back. Phew. Just passing it onto you anyone else who may find themselves in a similar quandary.

3. Surprisingly enough, only a few hours later, I was asked to disrobe again. This time, for a brow wax and facial. I had no earthly idea why being unclothed was necessary, but as this was my first facial (I had a coupon and my brows needed help ASAP) I obeyed and took off my top.

Have you ever been in one of those back spa rooms with the table in the middle of the room? I hadn't. My spa experiences have been limited to pedicures and the only massage I've ever had took place in what was essentially a doctor's office. Bright fluorescent lights, vinyl covered table, therapist who thought giving a massage meant releasing all toxins from every nook and cranny and the more you cried, the better.

Just as the gown perplexed me earlier that morning, the table really threw me for a loop. You see, it wasn't flat. One end was sort of raised into an inverted "V". So, either I was supposed to be on my stomach and hug the V with my arms, or, I was supposed to lie on my back and place the back of my knees on the apex of the V. Considering that they would probably need to see my face for a facial and brow wax, I choose to lie on my back. They had some blankets for coverage but I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone, essentially lying upside down like you would on the sit up bench at the gym. At least it was warm.

When the spa person entered the room, I immediately asked, "Is this right?" She assured me I was in the right position and from that moment on, I felt determined to allow the soothing music to relax me. Other than the actual waxing and plucking and squeezing the junk from my pores after she had opened them, it was very relaxing. She did massage the sides of my neck and tops of my shoulders, which, I suppose she couldn't have done had I been wearing a turtle neck, but the whole taking off my clothes really did seem unnecessary. Still, I loved the facial and I hope to do it again.

4. Off to a RS presidency meeting in an hour. Tomorrow, I'm going skiing. Thursday, I'm taking a group of women to the temple. Just some of what I'm able to do now that Henry is in pre-school. If he wasn't in little Henry Heaven going to school Monday - Thursday, I'd feel more guilt. But, he loves it so who am I to complain?:)  Besides, there are plenty of days and weeks when the hours are filled with much, much more of the mundane.

Check out that smooth skin with all kinds of essential oils rubbed into it and my newly shaped brows.  The hair is a bit frizzy from all the wet towels she kept wrapping around my face.  The chlorine from my hour in the swimming pool this morning has given it quite a different feel from yesterday.  

Sunday Thoughts - Murmur No More

I confess that I am a murmurer.  I don't know if it makes it better or worse that I am not a public murmurer, as some people seem proud of their I'll-say-exactly-what's-on-my-mind-no-matter-whose-feelings-I-hurt attitude, but I usually reserve my opinions of discontent for my husband's, family's or friend's ears only.  Oh, and for my blog.  Yes, I realize that is probably enough people to be considered public but I'm a lot more comfortable with my original statement.

What this means is that even though I am a supportive-go-with-the-flow-I-can-help-with-that-yes-girl, I don't always have the kind of attitude I should have when performing service.  I can be especially murmurific when it comes to my husband performing service.

Because he is in a bishopric, he has been ordained a High Priest.  For my handful of non-LDS friends out there, this means that he gets to hang with the old guys.  O.K...so they are not all old, but, generally speaking, a man becomes a high priest later in life.  Both the young guys and the old guys have their different assignments and responsibilities, but one of the duties of the High Priests is to take care of the widows in the ward.  In the wintertime, that includes snow removal for those that still live in their own homes.

I'm a little embarrassed that I am complaining on my blog about shoveling snow again.  I don't know what it is about this pesky task that annoys me so much, but every time I see those white balls of snow coming down, I feel picked on.  Jay thinks it's because I have control issues.  I can't control the when or how much so I get mad.  Maybe.  I think it's because I know it means hours of extra work for a guy that doesn't have very many extra hours.  In other words, it cuts directly into my Jay time.

The last two days have been snow filled and yesterday was a disappointing day for me in terms of getting things done and spending time together as a family.  Both boys had basketball games at different hours of the day, Seth had another long Destination Imagination meeting with his team and Jay spent a good three hours at a widow's home, shoveling her oversized driveway and picking away at the sheets of ice that cover her walkway after falling from her roof.  This afternoon, after finally coming home after his many hours of meetings, taking care of tithing and shoveling the walks around the church, he announced he needed to head back over to the widow's home to clear off the three or four inches of snow that accumulated overnight and this morning.  Feeling compassionate because he was clearly tired, but also selfishly wanting his task to take much less time than it did the day before, I quickly bullied him into letting me go with him to help.  As much as I hate shoveling, I'd rather shovel then spend another Jay-less day at home.

Prepared for manual labor, we arrived at the widow's home and divided up the job.  Jay handled the wide garage area and I started on the long narrow driveway.   We worked quickly and efficiently while Henry watched a movie in the van and Seth and Sam pretended they were Shaun White on one of the huge piles of snow.  I've previously helped Jay with this shoveling service twice before, and even discussed this widow and her needs both with him and during our Relief Society Presidency meetings, but I had yet to actually meet her.  Although she's housebound, she still serves as Visiting Teaching Supervisor and makes all the monthly calls to get the visiting teaching statistics.  The last time we spoke on the phone, she thanked me for my husband's service and invited me to stop in and introduce myself the next time I came by.

As I shoveled, I had her invitation in the back of my mind.  I wasn't really in the mood for any sort of chit-chatting, but knew it would be rude to simply shovel and leave.  I decided to make the boys come with me for a quick "hi" and after I finished the driveway, we knocked on her door.

As soon I saw her I thought of my dear grandmother.  Then, I thought of Jay's grandmother.  Bright, wonderful women who were eventually confined to spending the day in a recliner.  I thought of women I know who might not be elderly but are lonely and seeing this woman, and her smile and her obvious delight to receive visitors melted away my earlier frustration and indifference.  We chatted about my family, her family, how she misses coming to church, how grateful she is to Jay for his faithful service and about the gospel.  She wanted to know all about who spoke in Sacrament Meeting and what their topic was and I felt impressed with President Monson's great love and care of the widow's of the church.   In the Bible, James talks about pure religion and equates it to visiting the widows in their affliction.  Today, that made perfect sense.

I have looked at this responsibility of Jay's every way but the right way.  At my best, I have thought about it in terms of fulfilling a calling, of setting a good example for our sons and for providing service for a member of our ward.  At my worst, I have considered it a major inconvenience and burden on our family.  None of those viewpoints had any effect other than placing myself, or really Jay, higher than this widow.  We were helping her.

I can't quite explain how I felt walking out of her home after our visit.  All I can say is it was significantly different than how I felt walking in.  Better.  Sweeter.  Affected.  Instead of spending an hour shoveling a widow's driveway, we had spent an hour shoveling her driveway.  And even thought I had just met her, something about her and my memories of my grandmother helped me love her.  Jay and I both felt full of love on the drive home and the feeling has carried its way into the rest of the evening.

 I hope today's experience will help me remember Christ's words when He said, "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the these of these . . .ye have done it unto me."  Knowing that should be enough to keep me from complaining but feeling the effects of serving her AND Him today will hopefully keep my murmuring habit contained for awhile.

Classic #9 - The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

Part of earning some kind of achievement for a bear scout (I don't remember which one.  I am not fluent in Cub Scout-ese) is retelling a folk or tall tale that is part of our American heritage.  The examples given are Paul Bunyan, Pecos Bill etc. but Seth is on a reading whirlwind and wants to earn as many AR points (earned from taking tests about books he reads) as he can by the end of his trimester.

 I had the grand idea of him reading The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn with me and killing two birds with one stone (is there a less violent idiom that means the same thing?  Can't think of it right now so the brutal imagery will remain). I checked out an extra copy at the library, fully intending to give him the copy I bought for my classics challenge but after reading the first few chapters, I decided to hold off giving him the book until I finished reading.  Even early on, it seemed inappropriate for someone his age.

I understand the controversy.  I do.  Mark Twain wrote a brilliant novel considered by many to be THE Great American Novel, in its strength of characters, use of dialect in dialogue, plot, social impact and overall theme: racial injustice.  His work deserves every accolade it has received and probably every criticism.  How can you tell someone who is offended by the use of the N-word not to be offended?  Especially when Twain uses the word as frequently as he does, well over two hundred times throughout the novel.

Does it make a difference that most of the utterances are made by Huck, a boy who is racist only because he is ignorant, and not out of hatred? Does it make a difference that he uses this word because...well...it is the only noun he knows to use in regards to a black man?  Does it make a difference that he continues to use this insulting word even after he decides to help Jim, a black man, escape to freedom?  For some readers, like myself, it does make a difference.  While I find the word loathsome, I have no history that makes it personally offensive.   Others, however, see any use of the word as unacceptable regardless of the story, history or lesson. Similar to other heated debates, I doubt either side will be able to convince the other. 

The extraordinary power of Twain's novel is that he creates a protagonist, Huck, that is simultaneously extremely naive and wonderfully thoughtful.  His naivety allows most of the adventures of the story to take place.  Huck, though thirteen and more world wise than most,  believes and does what most people tell him to do:  Miss Watson and her Baptist beliefs, his mean drunk father and his litany of verbal abuse, Tom Sawyer and all of his playful foolishness, and the frauds who call themselves the Duke and the King when they force Huck to play a role in their schemes and scams.

Huck's thoughtfulness, however, is what gives The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn the moral weight which makes it so great.  When Huck decides to help Jim, a black man, gain his freedom, he does not make his decision because he thinks it's the morally right thing to do. On the contrary, Huck knows from all his upbringing that it's wrong.  He accepts what Miss Watson declares will be his fate in Hell, a fate earned by breaking the law and stealing someone's rightful property (Jim) as well as simply deciding he'd probably rather be there because it sounds like more fun, because he unwillingly and inadvertently loves Jim,  a runaway slave who over and over again risks more than his illegal freedom by sticking with Huck Finn through adventure after adventure. It is Jim who eventually teaches Huck, a young boy who has every single reason in the world to put himself first because no one else is going to, what love really means.  It is also Jim, a black man not even considered to BE a man, who shows Huck what it means to be human. 

I loved this book.  I hope Seth will read it....someday.  But not right now.  He needs time and experience in the world to have the necessary frame of reference, not to mention the patience for all of the written vernacular, Twain requires his readers to have.  Because as important and moving and fun as this book is, it is obviously not for everyone, especially my own naive and thoughtful fourth grader.    Not yet.  We'll read about Pecos Bill instead.

Winter Repeat

I woke up early this morning and found myself emotionally exhausted with winter.  I am tired of the dark and the cold and the wet and the white.  I have thoroughly enjoyed all the skiing we have been able to do, and know that the skiing still yet to come will help keep me going through the next month.  But, if I could choose, I would do a genie head bob and have it be about seventy-two degrees and all the snow gone.

Still, that feeling comes with guilt.  Because I do love winter and I want desperately to love each month for itself. I want to love March even though there is little to love.  April gets a slow start, but I'm usually satisfied by its end.  As I sat here on the couch, wishing for May,  I remembered feeling this exact way a few years back.  My memory was confirmed as I found this old post.  Just look at the date!  It seems February 17/18th might be when I reach my winter threshold.

Rather than re-writing those sentiments, I'll just paste a copy of that past post here.  It could have been written this morning.

February 17, 2008

Dear Winter,

I've always defended you against your opponents. Always said you were something I couldn't live without. With you, a cup of hot chocolate tastes sweeter. With you, a movie date on the couch with a down throw is much more romantic. With you, the mountains become playgrounds and you give the cold credibility.

But lately, you've been hovering. You're always around...always, and I can't get anything done. I wake up and there's no reason to get going. There's no where to go - no where to be. Your constant presence has started to suck the life out of me and I'm not fun or motivated anymore.

At first, you were so good with my kids. They got to build a snowman and go sledding and you even helped build a cool fort. But my boys are still little and you aren't the easiest playmate. In fact, you don't help me at all. If I try to make them to play with you, it creates that much more work for me. So, they ignore you and stay inside and make more messes and more noise. You really only make my day harder.

Please don't panic. I don't think you're horrible and still recognize the many positive qualities you possess. But I'm tired of my car being dirty and and I'm tired of wet socks and I'm really, really tired of my frizzy hair, my pale skin and sweaters that need a special cycle on the wash.

Please leave. I'm begging you. I cried three times yesterday and I think it's your fault. We need a break.

I'm not saying I want you gone forever. I know I still love you...deep down. But I think some time apart will give me the perspective I need if we are going to make this relationship last the rest of our lives.

I think we should take about nine or ten months and see how we feel about each other then? I really think we need to do this. For our future. For my sanity.

Remember, I'm asking for this because I care about you. The last thing in the world I want to have happen is for me to end up hating you. I just need a little....change.

Still yours,

Lucy

Book Review - Classic #8 - The Power of One

I've said it before and I'll say it again, I love a good title.  The Power of One may seem obvious, especially after reading the book's jacket which says, "In this magical novel, an irresistible boy tells the story of his survival and coming of age against the background of South Africa during and just after World War II."  The boy must be the One, right?

Well, of course.  He is.  Little Peekay is sensitive boy.  He gets, at an unusually young age, that some things matter and some don't and like any decent literary hero, the things that matter to him are the good things in life.  Truth.  Dignity.  Honor.  

These virtues seem to come to him naturally, because his family life is sadly lacking.  His mother is a neglegent born-again who tears him away from the only mother he's ever known - a Zulu who talks to him, unlike his own blood relatives,  and teaches him her ways.  His love for her is a theme that carries throughout the novel.

Which brings me back to the idea of the "One."  This nurse-maid also becomes a "One."  As the story follows Peekay throughout his life in a harsh South Africa, colorful characters all take their turn being powerful "one"s - or influences in Peekay's life.  Peekay is the tie that holds this goodness together, but through him and with their collective help, that one became many and the many became one.  It's a beautiful idea and masterfully told by Bryce Courtenay.

If you read it, you'll fall in love with Peekay, his boxing mentor, Hoppie, Doc, and even a chicken, Grandpa Chook.  You'll also learn a lot about boxing and the struggle between the Afrikaners and English as well as their mutal mistreatment of blacks in their country.  Most importantly, you'll discover a boy who learns that anything can be accomplished if he does it "first with his head, then with his heart."