Negative Book Review

Written by Joy
The Man Who Loved Jane Austen by Sally O'Rourke is a moral deviation for everything I know Jane Austin to stand for. I could not get more than a few chapters into the book, before I had read more morally offensive material than I could tolerate. I have never given a negative review with this violence of affection. But I value too highly the name of Jane Austin and her clean and decent principles put forward in her own writing, to keep myself from biting my tongue. I think that there could be some marit in the book, but that the liberties of using Jane Austin's name and character reference for such a morally indecent story line in unjust. Jane Austin is true to marriage and fidelity in marriage for all of you heroines and there is not reason to believe that she would have wanted to live otherwise.

A Baptism

One day at church, I was surprised to see a colleague with the sister missionaries. She was surprised and delighted to find a familiar face amidst a sea of unfamiliarity. She and her family had visited Temple Square where a sister had told them about eternal families and their hearts were touched by the Holy Spirit. They asked to know more.

I joined her and the missionaries when they met together; I stopped by her office occasionally to talk about religion and food policy; Joy and I had her over to dinner and she returned the favor. It soon became apparent that the question was not whether or not she would discover the truth of the gospel but when she would realize she already knew. Other members stepped in to support, answer questions, and befriend.

Then came the happy day when she declared that she had learned through prayer that Jesus Christ had spoken to Joseph Smith and called him as a prophet, that the Book of Mormon was translated by the gift and power of God, and that this is God's church on earth. She asked me to baptize and confirm her a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

This was a glorious and beautiful day to me. Though there were people I had taught as a missionary in Germany who were eventually baptized, I had not gone into the water to baptize anyone before. (In fact, even if one of them had asked me to do it, I would have tried to give the honor and the connection to a local member who would stay in the area longer than I.) It was a deep honor and an answer to over a decade of prayer.

The day of the baptism (the 14th) was a beautiful one. It felt like being at the temple. The bishop mentioned he had never been to a more Spirit-ually charged baptism. Her faith and courage are amazing. She is almost certain to face persecution for her choice among friends and other colleagues. But she stood valiantly and declared her willingness to answer to any person why she believes in the gospel. Many people were moved. Hyrum hasn't stopped talking about it either. How supremely thankful I am that we're still in Ithaca so that I could be there to be one part of supporting one of God's children, whom He had clearly prepared long before this to accept the truth when it was presented to her.

Birthday Cakes

Joy has been creative in the cake baking department. My brother and his wife came up to visit in July for their birthdays and then we went down to them for mine last week.

This was my cake: Moosewood's vegan chocolate cake - shockingly good. This was also Hyrum's cake and Steve's. We're all quite fannish. The design is the smiley I most often use online   :?)

Steve and Emie have taken scuba classes together, she volunteers at an aquarium, studied marine biology, and occasionally is goes by the name Monkeyfish. Put it all together and an aquatic theme becomes a natural for their joint birthday party.

This one is banana-spice. It's surprising how easy it is to craft some of these. We got a booklet recently with designs and Joy was eager to try them out.

I should also mention, we froze the leftover cake from their party and had it a month later when we got back from my birthday at their house. The cakes were still moist and delicious! (The bananas were another story.)

Good job, Joy.


Oh, and one of the fun things about all the birthdays: Hyrum sang to me this morning. He said, "Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Daddy. Happy birthday to you." Later today, he also sang along with the Tabernacle Choir for a moment during Praise to the Man.

The advantages of a home office in Ithaca

One of the things I enjoy about working at home when the weather is nice is taking some of my endless reading for a walk. There's a delightful shady trail along the brook not far from the house. I can walk and read and breathe the air and hear the water and let nature just slowly osmose its way into me.

A few times I took Hy with me. I'd keep him within eyesight once we got to the park but otherwise leave him free to pick berries and toss pebbles as his heart saw fit. We'd park ourselves by every water feature along the way so he could splash or stir up the little fishes or toss rocks into the water or just charge right through to the next outcropping. At the end of one such visit, he discovered that his neon orange shoes were now dirty and told me and everyone about his "brown shoes."

I'd tell him about whatever he was seeing. On one trip he asked his very first question: "What's that?" as a plane flew overhead out of sight and as a chainsaw buzzed near some homes. We talked about them and woodpeckers and trucks driving by and all sorts of things. Wasn't perhaps the most efficient reading environment, but was Time Well Spent. (I would get through 2-3 papers along the way and figure out how to incorporate them, so it's justifiable.)

If I really wanted exercise, I'd cross the bouncy bridge (Hyrum likes the bouncy bridge) and I or Joy, Hy, and I would hike up a gorge trail to a horse ranch at the top and walk around the track looking at the horses. It's really a wonderful way to spend an hour.

So one of the best things about a home office in Ithaca is not being in it.

A new taste

Hi there. Hy here with a great new drink you've just got to try. It's "yummy" by my own admission.

I had half a glass of apple juice (one part apple juice, 1-2 parts water) sitting on the table and asked Daddy, "May I have more chocolate milk, please?" He obliged and, unable to see what Mommy had previously poured into my cup, started pouring in milk. I decided to help him and tipped the milk jug a little further so the cup filled quickly with one half milk.

Daddy sat back satisfied that the cup was full of milk and that he hadn't spilled. He told me to drink up before he would put any chocolate in. Before Mommy could stop me, I began to drink.

Mommy explained to Daddy his mistake. He took it in stride, noticing how happily I was lapping up our concoction. In fact, I drank about half of it and asked for more. We call it "juice milk." It's just milk with a hint of apple really. Quite refreshing. Daddy tried it too. I'm not sure how well he liked it, but he didn't grimace and seemed understanding.

I finished the cup during dinner and asked specifically for "juice milk" before bed. Daddy obliged and I reassured him it was "yummy."

Notable milestones

Except for the early years of the Restoration, there has been no nation in which a temple has been built within two decades after the Church was introduced.

Let's hear it for the Kyiv [that's Kiev to most of you] Ukraine Temple!

Hyrum learns French

The other day, I put on my jean beret. First time since Hy was born, probably. Hyrum was delighted at the new hat, so I decided to whip out my self-taught/high school French and greeted him with my most nasally, singsong bonsoir.

Bonsoir! Hyrum shouted back grinning.

I thought I ought to try out "good day" before "good night" and said bon jour. He copied me again, but then went back to bonsoir. He really likes it. He owns the word now.

Yesterday I told him that bonsoir means good night. He said, "Bonsoir. Good night." He's more excited about French than he has been about any of the Spanish or German words we've tried to teach him.

So I guess Mommy will speak Spanish, Daddy German, and Hyrum French. It would be nice if he mastered English first, though.

Learning about yourself

Nothing like listening to your toddler to find out about yourself. Mommy recently blogged:

At some point Hyrum stated saying a wonderful phrase that eased his mother's heart. The phrase is "OH, YES"

Well, "oh, yes" has given way to "yep." yep yep yup yup... Mommy does not approve. She likes "yes" much more.

Then Daddy realized where it came from. Derrill, you want mayonnaise on your sandwich, right? Yep. ... uhoh. It's me!

Now self-conscious, I begin to hear yep all over the place. yep yep yep yep. ... Time to repent so Hyrum will have the role model Joy wants him to have.

The Lovely and Gracious comments: "Yep isn't so bad. It's just hard to hear. Yes is so understandable!"

Why Shoe Shopping Takes so Long

My shoes are disintegrating. I've held out a month doing my 2.5 mile walk to and from campus while my feet get blistered all over again because the heel has almost fallen off, water seeps in, and now the plastic supports are ripping out the stitching and sticking out. But it's finally time for back-to-school sales and I announced to Joy that Saturday after the baptism was the perfect time to go to the Waterloo Outlets to buy 3 pairs for the price 1.

We were in that store for more than 2 hours. I was the one shopping, not Joy. Joy can find shoes in a magazine and be perfectly happy with them. She's amazing. I have flat feet that blister and ache in comfortable shoes. And I'm hard on shoes in return, so they need to be good shoes if they're going to last more than 2 months. I have killed shoes that quickly when I was walking less than I do these days.

I have a theory for why it takes so long to shop for shoes: I have to hurt before I can identify the shoes that hurt the least.

I get there in my nice, comfortable, loved, disintegrating shoes and start trying on these stiff, sturdy shoes that are going to have to take my torture for the next year. None of them feel comfortable. Some are merely "I'm not sure" uncomfortable. Some are actually painful to put on. Some I can't even put on even though they are "my size." My feet and shoe manufacturers just don't agree: My black organ shoes (which used to be my latin ballroom dancing shoes) are size 9 1/2 while my white temple shoes, which are only so much cardboard painted white, are size 13. I fit myself into 10.5 wides through 12s and sometimes even the 12s don't fit and I grab a 13. I feel bad for asking the salesclerk foolish enough to ask if he could help to go check to see if they have an 11wide in black... for the fifth time.

It's actually a fortunate thing that I hate shoelaces - always have - because it limits my selection or else I might be there even longer. Eventually, though, I run out of shoes to try on. I've found one that I know will work - the younger brother to my current beloved walking shoe - but I need formal shoes for church and job interviews too and those won't do for that. Or they won't in a couple months.

So I start trying on shoes a second time, and a third. Finally my feet hurt so much that the shoes that used to be merely "I'm not sure" ... feel comfortable. They aren't hurting any of the parts of my foot the other shoes maimed.

Then I pull out four boxes and line them up side by side: 10.5 wide, 11, 11 wide, and 11.5. Do they have a 12, I ask timidly? Let me check. Thankfully, no. I try each of them on and walk around some more. It's the 11 regular. But only the right foot feels right. The left foot is still just a little cramped. So I pull out the four boxes they have with black size 11 regular and try on just the left shoe from each of them, keeping the one right shoe I know already works. A little mix and match later, I finally have a second pair of shoes. Now to find one more....

Joy convinces me to just get a second pair of walking shoes and call it good. Please, honey? ...

And that's why it takes two hours. I've got to hurt before I can identify the shoes that hurt the least.

Ladies, am I right? Is this what it's like for you? Except some of you do this for fun?

PS - We met the poor salesclerk trying on blazers in the next store we went to looking for skirts for Joy. It felt awkward.
PPS - I know I got the right pair of walking shoes because it takes until I'm within 5 minutes of my office for my feet to start telling me there is a pair of matching blisters forming. I missed my bus on the way home and walked back as well and I only have one of the four blisters that threatened to show up. Not bad at all for a new pair!

This makes me cry

on so many levels. It begins

My four-year old ate a vegetable frittata the other day.

and after several pages of me reading my heart out ends

My husband and I met eyes across the table as she ate, but we didn't say a word about it. When she asked for seconds - seconds! - we served them quietly, and without ceremony.
But I'd be a liar if I didn't admit that later, in the kitchen, he and I quietly exchanged a high five.
"Who is that kid?" my husband whispered as our hands slapped.
"Shh," I said. "Let's not jinx it."