::: late summer afternoon :::

::: i didn't shake his hand: on meeting author and prophet a.j. jacobs :::

When I met A.J. Jacobs this evening, author of The Know-It-All and The Year of Living Biblically and fellow blogger, the first thing I did was reach out to shake his hand. This staggers the imagination. It falls in line with doing stupid things like reminding yourself fourteen hundred times to pick up your phone on your way out of the house, or make the deposit at the bank before going home, or buy a bag of ice when you get to the cashier. You tell yourself over and over and over again, but you forget anyway. (By the way, when you get to the car after grocery shopping and realize you've forgotten milk, why does it seem easier to come back later and live for a week without milk than to walk from the parking lot into the grocery store and buy the stuff? Or is this just me?)

I first heard about Jacobs' book, The Year of Living Biblically, on NPR a year ago. I was enthralled and intrigued (which is kind of redundant, but I really was) since I was at a point in my life when I was beginning to take Biblical teaching--specifically the words of Jesus--very seriously, so I stopped immediately at my local bookstore to see if it was available. It was, but not at a price I could afford at the time, so I decided to come back for it later, but not before reading a few words here and there. Right away, several themes of the book struck me; first, Jacobs' willingness to learn and appreciate something new, and second, his desire to stick to something whole-heartedly for an entire year. I think I could commit to, oh, maybe eating and breathing for a year, but I'm not sure I'm all that great at committing to anything else for any extended period. I'm not even good at commiting to buying a book that I purposefully drove to the bookstore to purchase.

But I was able to pick up Jacobs' book The Know-It-All, about his determination to read through the Encyclopaedia Brittanica from A to Z (or, more precisely, from a-ak to zywiec), which smacked of the kind of wacky, immersive thing I would do but just hadn't thought of or had the guts to try and pull off. Reading what he had to say about his experience was like reading the book I would have written if I'd had half of his gumption and fortitude. Better yet, it was like reading what I would have found interesting and told people about without having to actually wade through all forty-four million words of the thing. It was like I outsourced my encyclopaedia reading to A.J. Jacobs.

And some of the things I gleaned from the book didn't really have anything to do with the encyclopaedia. Some of the most fascinating tidbits came from Jacobs' honesty about his own hangups. The transparency he allowed made me feel like I knew him, that I could really hang with him, that we could understand each other.

Insert creepy stalker music here.

But seriously, I thought that we'd have a lot of things to talk about if I ever met this guy in a conversational situation. We could discuss similar interests in historical quirkiness, or I could tell him how much I appreciated his chapter on school and the teacher's discussion of war. And one thing I absolutely knew, without a shadow of a beard, was that if we ever met, I would not, under any circumstances, shake his hand.

It's not because of any strange hand-habit that Jacobs wrote about in his book which turned me off from touching him. It had more to do with the fact that Jacobs describes himself as a hypochondriac and germaphobe, and I wanted to honor his hangups by not exposing him to my germs.

So, when the opportunity arose for me to actually meet this author, who would be within two-hours' drive time discussing his book The Year of Living Bibically, I ordered the tome from Amazon, read as much as I could digest (not in the Jeremiah eating-a-scroll sense, of course) in three weeks, which was to page 120 (what? It took the man a year to live it. I figure taking a year to read it is okay, too), and bought my tickets. As I dragged my dear husband along to be my driver, cameraman and general roadie, I instructed him firmly, "If you meet him, you must NOT shake his hand. He's a germaphobe." My husband nodded solemnly.

As soon as we entered the building, I saw Jacobs standing near the doorway. To my credit, I didn't rush him, although I did suggest to my husband that he could follow him into the men's room and introduce himself there. Jacobs couldn't soon forget that moment.

Insert the second movement of the creepy stalker music.

The presentation was decent, though it seemed to me that .9 of the audience hadn't read the book, because they laughed at all of the verbatim parts he quoted as if they'd never heard them before. I waited until the end of the question and answer session, mostly because I found it annoying that people kept shooting their hands up before he was finished answering the previous question. "I'll wait until they're all questioned-out," I reasoned. Unfortunately, the time was up before that happened. I figured I'd ask him my question, which pertained to what decisions he had made regarding the upbringing of his son (a topic he discusses in Living Biblically) when I would meet him at the book-signing table. And not shake his hand.

And, sure enough, he was at the said book-signing table. Since the last shall be first and the first shall be last, I was fairly close to the beginning of the line; I had been at the very back of the auditorium, right near the doorway where he was seated.

I knew I was going to have a few things to say, so I did, in all fairness, offer my space to the woman behind me who made a comment that she was in a bit of a hurry. She only had two books to sign. I had four. She declined, but at least I tried. It was in keeping with the whole golden rule theme. Having said that, I actually do try to live out the golden rule on a regular basis. It's as close as I can come to Living Biblically.

I saddled my husband with the camera and my other junk, instructing him to take several pictures. "And take them from slightly above, please. A modified myspace profile pic, except you're taking it and not me. I don't want a picture of all of my chins."

I was so busy giving photography lessons that I was actually caught off-guard when it came my turn to meet Jacobs. Instinctively, I stuck out my hand, and he reached for it. Almost as instinctively, I yanked my hand back before he had a chance to touch it. Unbelievable. After all of the reminders I had given myself and my husband, I had actually attempted to shake A.J. Jacobs' hand. But all was redeemed. I apologized, assured him that I wasn't actually going to touch his hand, because I know...I know...what? How he feels about germs? I don't know what I actually said, but I think he got the point, and I think he was grateful.

But here's the thing. I'm so accustomed to doing things a certain way, to meeting someone and performing the obligatory handshake, that I was taken aback. I had no idea what to do or say. Speechless, I stammered, "I'm a little lost, now. I don't know what to do if I don't shake your hand...."

At that point, he noticed my camera-wielding husband. Jacobs stood, and muttered that he was allowed to put his hand on my back, possibly as a consolation for not shaking my hand, and Bo took the shot.


Another brief exchange ensued while he signed my books in which he seemed genuinely interested, mostly, I'm sure, because I was one of the first people in line and not the 56th, though stamina and endurance do seem to be two of Jacobs' traits. Still, he really did seem interested. Here he is hanging on my every word. Ignore, please, the multiple chins. On me, that is. Mr. Jacobs' chins are just fine.


See the stamina? See the endurance? See the genuine interest? See the eye contact (Jacobs actually says that he has to work on *not* maintaining eye contact so that people don't think he's a psycho who keeps a cup of noses in his freezer)? Aren't these great traits? As are charm, compassion, humor and honesty, which Jacobs' also seems to possess, from my limited stalk...er, reading. Through his books and the answers to the questions presented by tonight's audience, I came to realize something about Jacobs that he may not recognize in himself, something that, in fact, he disclaimed. A.J. Jacobs is a prophet in his own right. What I took away from my evening listening to him was that he is a seeker of truth, a seeker of wisdom. He's not interested in retribution, ridicule, or setting people straight. "There are enough books out there that take the other side to task. I went into this wanting to understand." And what he learns, he shares. A speaker of truth, of wisdom, of understanding. A prophet.

Once I had left the building and climbed into my car, I opened my copy of Living Biblically to read a passage about Ecclesiastes (Jacobs' favorite book of the Bible) to my husband, flipping past the inscription. I'd almost forgotten it was there, so I flipped back and read it.



If he'd have known, he'd also have written, "And thanks for not accosting me in the men's room."

Insert final movement of creepy stalker music.

Some of the Musicians in My Life...

I caught this couple of minutes of video of Bo, my dear husband, and his brother doing an impromptu rendition of "My Sweet Lord."

Swimmin'!

I had a couple of extra kids palling around with me, it was hot, and there were no other plans for the day. Sounds like the perfect opportunity for the first swim outing of the season. We loaded up with food and towels and swimsuits and kids and we set our course for the swim park we'd never been to. First thing I said to Bard as we headed from home was that it seemed to all go too easily, that something probably wasn't going to cooperate.

After we had arrived at the swim park, about two hours later than I'd hoped, and paid my $50 to get in, and laid all of our belongings out on the crowded grassy area, I heard thunder. And then multiple whistles.

"There has been lightening sighted. Everyone out of the pool. We'll resume swimming twenty minutes after the last lightening strike."

Which meant that our four hours of swimming has just been cut to three.

Of course, this news was followed by a steady downpour.

We loaded everything back up and squished into the small block building, where a large sign was posted saying, "NO REFUNDS. NO EXCEPTIONS."

"Not even if we just walked in and haven't even been in the pool yet?"

The young girl at the register shook her head. Only if they close the pool, she told me, and only if it's before 2:00 p.m. (it was), but it wasn't likely they'd close the pool, because this was just one tiny pop-up storm.

So we waited it out.

An hour later, the lifeguards are called to their stations and we're allowed to return to the pool. For about half-an-hour, until the swim break.

Then it's back to the pool. Most people have left because of the storm, so it's not even very crowded. It's warm, and the water feels good. The kids are having a great time.

And then the thunder rolls again.

Ah, well. At least we got an hour of swimming in for my $50 bucks. Oh, and a few good photos with my new waterproof camera.

Sweetheart splashin'

The play area.

My neice Bella was absolutely lovin' it.

The girl has no fear.

She saved these flowers from the cupcakes to give to her mommy.

The Baby

Today's Project: Basil Bread

When the basil comes in, the eatin' gets good. Today's basil project was Genovese Basil Bread. Hop on over to my food blog, Time to Cook, for the recipe and pictures of my helpers. :-)

I'm also working on the No-Knead Bread from the New York Times. You can check out that recipe and an article about it here, but I won't post it on my food blog until I see how it comes out.

If you want to see some *real* food blogs, check out Simply Recipes and Farmgirl Fare. Good stuff, I tell ya!

::: sweetheart's art :::

Sweetheart, the darling nine-year-old girl of the family, has recently taken to photography. She can very often be seen with a camera in her hand, usually Mom's Canon. Recently, after months of camera lust, I bought this little miracle, and now Sweetheart can take high-quality photos to her heart's content without me worrying that she'll drop the camera or get it wet. Here are a few of her photos.
Swing-out sister.

Self-portrait.

Cousin Bella's lovely locks.

Sisters.

Her favorite model.

::: what summer looks like :::

The view from my kitchen window. Look closely. :-)

Tomatoes, hollyhocks and a little girl.

The Scarecrow.

Petunias in a clay pot. See the lilies in the background?

An old, old, old cooler full of flowers.

A Trip to the Zoo

Yesterday, on a whim, we took a trip to the zoo in the Big City. It was a quick, low maintenance outing--grab the kids, throw some bottles of water in the bag, and out the door. It turned out to be one of the best outings we've had in a long time. The zoo was beautiful, the weather was very cooperative, and the kids were on their best behavior. How often does that happen?

Here's Monet taking a break from his self-appointed stroller-pushing duties. That rope bridge isn't very stroller-wheel friendly. ;-)
The girls were very impressed with the hugangous monarch caterpillar. I was very impressed with the amazing gardens!

An inside look at a cone-shaped hydrangea.

The jellyfish exhibit was absolutely incredible. God was very imaginative on the day he dreamed up these creatures.

The butterfly bench was quite creative, too. God must have been feeling very imaginative on the day he created creative human beings. :-)

Then tonight we had a family night, choosing for our movie disc 3 of Planet Earth, the Shallow Seas segment, which featured many of the animals we saw at the zoo. The series is awe-inspiring, giving us a glimpse of what goes on in places we'd likely never get to see otherwise. If you haven't seen it, you simply have to.

And now it's thunderstorming (good thing it wasn't doing this yesterday!), so it's time to shut down for the night. Blessings!

It's a hard life, but it's a good, good life...

Inch by inch, row by row
Gonna make this garden grow
All it takes is a rake and a hoe
And a piece of fertile ground
Inch by inch, row by row
Someone bless these seeds I sow
Someone warm them from below
'Til the rain comes tumbling down

Well, I kind of go back and forth between thinking my garden is going to kill me this year and loving it to death. Today, I'm kind of in-between and, if not one with nature, then at least we're oozing into each other a bit more.

Our beautiful hilltop home is surrounded by acres and acres of fertile fields. I can see them all from just about every window of my house. Notice, my friends, that I said, "surrounded by." What that means is that this fabulous peak that gives me such incredible views just doesn't have any good soil.

Pulling weeds and pickin' stones
Man is made from dreams and bones
Feel the need to grow my own
'Cause the time is close at hand
Grain for grain, sun and rain
Find my way in nature's chain
To my body and my brain
To the music from the land

So, for the past seven years, from the very moment that I stepped foot on this piece of paradise, I've been working to tame the land. Clay, sand, rock, and the neighbor's newly-planted trees that border--ah, yes, even hover--over my garden area have all been issues to contend with. I've had years when my tomatoes have been attacked by hornworms, and blossom end-rot, and calcium deficiency, and an attack of goats, and the neighbor's cows, and the other neighbor's children. I've had years when I tilled and turned and double-dug only to be thwarted by weeds that popped up and choked out everything practically overnight. I've had raised beds rot away, birds devour cherries just moments before they were ripe, curculio worms eat my peaches from the inside out, and chickens dig up every last newly sprouted nasturtium seedling. My dogs love rolling in freshly spread mulch and freshly planted perennials, and my cats, like all cats, can't resist a brand new litter box shaped like a flower bed.

But I persist. I'm not sure why. I think it's a combination of naivety, stubbornness and a strong desire to hold on to a dream.

Because I've always had this image of a house surrounded by beautiful flowers, productive fruit trees, plentiful vegetable gardens, and chickens gently scratching away the grubs and cabbage worms. Of big, lazy dogs lounging on the porch (not in the flower bed, you see), and cats stretched out among the catnip.

Plant your rows straight and long
Thicker than with pray'r and song
Mother Earth will make you strong
If you give her love and care
Old crow watchin' hungrily
From his perch in yonder tree
In my garden I'm as free
As that feathered thief up there

So, sure, I've had to do some adjusting. I've learned a bit about fences, and about multiple plantings, about sticking sharp things where you don't want animals to lay or dig or scratch. I know now that I have to pick the cabbage worms off the broccoli, cauliflower and cabbage every day, not just when I see the pretty white moths appear fluttering above my garden. I've finally figured out that when the dogs find a patch in the garden that they like, I don't chase them away and replant what they dig up. I just leave that spot empty for them, let them feel like they won the battle. Chasing them away just sends them to a new spot, anyway.

Inch by inch, row by row
Gonna make this garden grow
All it takes is a rake and a hoe
And a piece of fertile ground
Inch by inch, row by row
Someone bless the seeds I sow
Someone warm them from below
'Til the rain comes tumbling down

Anyone who tells you that gardening isn't hard work is probably growing something illegal. It's a heck of a lot of work, and there are days when I don't think it's worth it at all.

But today I do. And that's what will keep me going tomorrow.

That's the country life.

Happy Birthday, Houdin!

Houdin is away at camp as a counselor for the week, and today, on his birthday, I'm thinking of him. When he gets home, we'll have a birthday celebration for him and a Father's Day celebration for Bo and my dad.

It's pretty strange not having Houdin here. Dare I say it's quite a bit quieter? But at the same time, when I need someone to lift this or carry that or run here or hurry there, I remember how helpful he is. I'm sure he's enjoying his week of training at camp and will be a big hit with the camp kids; that environment is right up his alley.

So send birthday wishes his way, and we'll be sure he gets them when he gets home.

::: happy birthday, son! :::

::: scenes from the garden :::

Here are a few moments I wish I could savor forever. After returning from the trail and a trip to the thrift store, The Baby ushered Papa out to the garden to peruse her thrifted William Wegman book. Of course Sweetheart, Bard and Joy the Dog had to get in on the act. What a gorgeous day!

Some grad photos...

Bard graduated from high school this weekend. The ceremony was lovely, and we had the very perfect weather for her open house on Sunday. We made bins and bins of food--barbecued chicken, baked beans, potato salad, veggies and dip, cake, cookies--and we had a wonderful crowd of people to share it all with.

Now, she's off for the summer and will be a freshman at a Christian college on a full scholarship (room and board, books, tuition, AND a laptop all paid!) this Fall. I will miss her greatly, but she'll only be about an hour away, and will be closer geographically to some of her friends when she's there that she has been at home.

It's been a great ride, learning with this girl, from the moment she was born, even up through today. I look forward to many years of learning with my younger ones, too.

With Sweetheart, Mom, Dad and Grandma.

Aunt Marilyn and Cousin Bella on the hammock with Uncle Aaron providing the motion.

Some twilight guests.
And she'll be heading off to college with a very special gift from her whole family--aunts, uncles, grandparents, brothers, sisters, mom and dad. It's her very own guitar--which just happens to share her name.

::: a garden post :::

I posted a little bit about my garden happenings at my food blog, Time to Cook. Go take a gander.

::: fun stuff for cat lovers :::

I found this video over at Anderson Adventures and it gave me a good giggle. Take a moment to giggle, too. It's good for you!

Finally. New pictures of the kids.

After having those black and white pictures on my sidebar for so, so long, I finally have some new photos of the fam which I hope to get into that sidebar, if I can remember how!

The Baby

Sweetheart

Monet

Houdin

Bard

A Spring Photo

Well, it only took about two hours and fifty takes, but we got one decent family photo for the church directory and my mother-in-law who has been asking me for a family photo forever. Left to right: Bard, Monet, Houdin, The Baby, Bo, Sweetheart and Thicket Dweller.

Ain't no cure for the summertime blues...

Once the weather gets warm, and the trees jump into greenness, and the dirt invites a spade and some willing fingers, our family can be found outdoors at every chance.

Every year, I've taken a little more time and a little more effort to plant a vegetable garden and a couple of flower beds. This year, with gas prices being what they are, and food costs skyrocketing, I decided that it would be necessary to grow as big of a garden as I can possibly get, and that everyone in the family will work in it, no exceptions. So far, that plan has worked out, with just a few hitches.

The hitches are the computers. My boys, in particular, don't seem to be able to function properly if there is an electronic device within a hundred feet of them. I can assign them a chore and, as soon as I'm not looking, they disappear. I'll spend a half-hour pulling weeds, or hoeing a row, or hauling mulch, and then I realize that someone's missing. It seems that I spend half of my work day playing hide and seek, though it's never very hard to find them.

Usually the reason is that they had to go to the bathroom, or change their shoes, or get a drink. And once they're in the house, that computer is just too strong of a pull. They're sucked in to Frets on Fire or facebook. It's almost like they don't even know they're doing it.

But the girls? Well, when they're in the garden with me, it's right where they want to be. They will do whatever it takes to make the yard look pretty, and just to spend time with mom. And if they aren't working with mom, they're swinging on the swing, or playing with the animals, or pretending they're fairies, or picking flowers to weave into each others' hair. Bard will spend the entire day weeding, mulching and identifying emerging perennials in her garden.

Is it a hard-wiring thing? Are girls so programmed to nest and create environments that they aren't even tempted away?

Are boys so programmed to hunt and gather and protect that they'll drift away from their household duties in order to virtually hunt and gather and protect?

Whatever the reason, it causes some friction in the Thicket Dweller household. The girls, even though they love being with mom and enjoy housework to some extent, dont' appreciate it when they have to do all of it, and the boys get to run off and "play." And I, who have always intended to raise boys who can cook and clean just as well as they can work on cars and gather firewod, am simply maddened by their distractedness. It leaves all of us feeling resentful and trodden upon.

So I'm looking for solutions. I know that I can do some things in a very analog style, like taking the power supply or the wireless keyboard and mouse and locking them in the locker. But that doesn't change the heart issue, and that's what I need to address now.

Any commiserations or suggestions that you have would be warmly welcomed. Does anyone else deal with these issues? How do you handle them? Do you see a difference between boys and girls in this area?

I'll be staying tuned, but I won't be standing right by my computer. If you need me, I'll be in the garden.

::: a thought for today :::