Friday, March 4, 2016

An arbitrary collection

Emma and I came home to find loud noises coming from the basement.  Mark and Adam.  We went down and found them in the throes of a shuffleboard tournament (we have a small tabletop shuffleboard).  Mark was being a commentator on his own sport radio station. He was recording it on his phone.

We listened to the "show" and it was pretty funny because Mark is pretty funny but the really surprising part is that he sounded exactly like Braeden.  Their voices are somehow identical.


Emma got her ACT scores back.  She gets her smarty pants ways from her smarty pants dad.  Adam wondered what his score had been.  I ventured a guess--highest score possible?  Adam said no.  He said he thought it was like a fisherman's story and his score kept growing in his mind.  He decided to call his mom to ask her to look up his score.  Before he dialed he said, "I hope Emma beat me."

She did.

(She has the advantage of a really great elementary teacher.)



I pulled out my spring decorations.  Emma approved everything and said, "I like how the angel is spanning the seasons."

I'd never thought of a season spanning angel but now that lady is never going away.

Emma and I may make a patriotic sash for her in July.


Our youth wrote letters to some missionaries in New Zealand (including but not limited to my favorite NZ missionary, Clarissa).  Armed with the horror stories of how much it costs to mail packages to New Zealand, I went to the post office.  I don't particularly like the post office.  The lines are always long and the self serve machine is always broken.  It's a shining example of inefficiency.

When it was finally my turn, I explained what I needed.  The guy produced a flat rate envelope for me to send my letters.  He said it would be $33.  Then he started thinking. "Try this instead.  That is cheaper if it will work."  Then he produced envelope after envelope--they all had some slightly different rate.  He helped me wedge the letters in so that that envelope was as flat as possible.  He honestly spent 5-10 minutes helping me.

The final cost was $13.

I suddenly had a much higher opinion of the post office.


Yesterday was the high stakes event where next year's seniors (shhh...I'm pretending I didn't just write that) could register online for classes.  Emma and her friend Hayley burst through the door.  "My mom's not home," Hayley explained, laptop in hand.  "I need adult supervision."

I said, "I'm not sure I will be any help."

She said, "I really just need love."

Don't we all?

I logged her onto our wi-fi and she and Emma sat side by side at computers.  When the clock struck 3:00, they were off to the races.  After "the most stressful two minutes of their lives" they were each registered for next year. 

Now I need to figure out a way to slow down time.  (Just for Emma though.  I want to speed time up for Braeden.  Does it work that way?)

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