Tents, Beer Pong, and Providence

So this weekend we went camping. That's the commonality between the three things in the title.

Obviously, we stayed in tents. The Burtons (thanks for inviting us!) went with and we had lots of fun. It seemed like eating supper on time was not in God's plan for us. The first night, right at supper time there was a random rain storm. We had to wait it out and then eat. On night two we came back from a day of exploring the beaches and coasts of Rhode Island, and our secluded campsite had turned in to the state's largest beer-pong game (not saying much, since we were in RI). So we had to move our entire setup to a different campsite before supper in case someone decided to give our children beer (Ezra will have to wait till I get out of Seminary) or pee on our tents. There were no hard feelings between the two factions (family vs. underage drinkers), but we had to eat supper after dark.

On the way home we stopped in Providence. No, I don't have a great story about how God made something great happen. We did stop at Cracker Barrel, though, which is always providential.

Hulio the Cartel, and Original Sin

So Greg Hitt has been bugging me to go see Michael Daves play for almost as long as I've known him. The only problem is he plays on Tuesday nights at 10:00, which would make for a rough Wednesday at school. I decided yesterday that there are more important things than sleep, so I went down to SoHo with him last night, and oh my was it good.

But the real story is what happened afterward. Greg and I were hanging around outside the subway, and up comes Soren from Denmark, complimenting us on our incredible style (yes, I thought it odd too). Shortly thereafter, Hulio, the owner of the establishment next to which we were standing, came out, introduced himself, told us he could tell we were good men, and then briefly defended the actions of the Mexican drug cartel.

He went in, came back out to tell us about his life and his catholic girlfriend, and muse about the human condition. The most pointed moment was when he said, with his thick, Cuban, son of a gangster accent, I think we are all basically good, etc. I replied that I didn't think I was born good. He replied to my reply that, yes, I was born good. I contested saying, maybe you're right, but something bad happened, and indeed happens to us all, which comment he wholeheartedly agreed with. Good talk.

If you'd told me two years ago I'd find myself standing at the entrance to a subway with my new friend from Ohio, talking to the owner of hispanic club about original sin, I'd have said...well...I guess I'd have said that sounds like fun; indeed it was.

Letters

Dearest Husband,

Please make SURE I am AWAKE before you leave for work. This morning I rose to find our eldest engaged in a rousing game of Settlers of Catan. He refers to it as, "The star game." It seems we will need to do some remediation in the area of shape identification.

Thank You,

Your Loving Wife

P.S. After he finished Settlers, he designated a plastic comb as a knife and proceeded to saw his granola bar into tiny pieces while using his foot to try and turn on the TV to watch Wonder Pets. "If I push that button, The Wonder Pets will come on TV. They certainly will."

Dear Elias,

Please stop waking up at 3:30 AM. I realize it's probably habit and, being the social creature you are, you just need company however we would all be much happier if you could just tough it out. Since we are in this tiny studio with neighbors on both sides, we can't just let you cry it out. Perhaps you could just restrain yourself between the hours of 7PM and 6AM. I feel this is a reasonable request.

Love,

Mom

Dear Reader,

Thank you for bearing with us through endless stories about our children. We are faring as well as a couple possibly could in a tiny apartment in NYC. This past week, we spotted some crocuses peeking up out of the ground in Central Park. It seems we have made it through the cold night. Winter is on its way out. It's not too much of a stretch to imagine what Noah must have felt when he saw that first patch of dry land. We've been lost at sea all winter, but it feels great to be able to get out again and stretch our legs and remember how warm and wonderful the sunshine can be.

We have decided to stay in New York another year. We miss friends and family, but we feel that we have been able to be of some service to the church here and have finally met some kindred spirits with whom to share bits of our lives. We are spurring one another on toward love and good deeds. The church here has had its share of struggles, but we see signs of life too numerous to count. The Lord has graced us with His light in many ways.

This Stick

DO TOOO.

12345 Go! Yay! Yaaaaaaay!

My Mouth is for scraping my teeth.

Tonodono. Ewayowayo.

We can't talk.

Note: The previous post (including the title) was dictated by my 2 yr old. So, here are some pictures. One is of two kids at my school that dressed up like you know who. The other is my beautiful wife and youngest son, Elias.

Ezra said...

"Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall. Humpty Dumpty had a great...job."

I guess if you have to work, that's not a bad job to have!

Rene Milot

34 Degrees

It's cold outside. Today I moved into the final stage of grief for warmer weather: acceptance. I miss the summer. I look forward to warmer weather with great anticipation. By the time it is reasonably comfortable outside, little e. will be sitting up. Maybe he will start crawling. Big E. might be big enough to walk to the playground, or at least pedal his tricycle. There will be leaves on the trees and flowers in the grass. It is beautiful that our Creator gives us a concrete reminder of what it is to hope for renewal.

I made a green tea cake for church this week. Boy, was it ugly. Have you ever seen the cakes I have made? I have made some seriously ugly cakes. I should keep an ugly cake scrapbook. The matcha colored the frosting a terribly unappetizing moss green. E. won't even eat it. He doesn't know his colors yet, but he knows there is something wrong with that cake. I tried putting powdered sugar on it. That made it worse and I didn't think it could get any worse. It looked like mold. Needless to say, I kept the ugly (but absolutely delicious) cake for myself. Today I offered a piece to E. He said, "Okay. Momma, will you cut the green part off my piece?" Maybe I'll save this recipe for St. Patrick's day.

Happy New Year!

Not much to say about these last few weeks. We've had our ups and downs. How about some pictures? (Most recent first--all the way back to Christmas morning.)

E. and I went up to the roof to build a snowman.

Is this your headband? No? It's not mine, either.

Friends!

White Christmas (notice that the bag of trash is actually whiter than the snow)

Ezra got a guitar for Christmas. It's a little green guitar.

Opening Christmas presents