I’m not allowed to blog until the Christmas letter is written.
And mailed.
“The stars may lie, but the numbers never do (I feel lucky)”
At a quick dinner-table poll this evening, I found out that I’m going to have 16 grandchildren.
2 from Judah
4 from Wesley
4 from Malin
6 from Avery
Sounds good to me…
fixtures in motion
When I was a kid, I had no reason to believe that light fixtures did anything other than hang out on the ceiling and provide light. It never even crossed my mind that one might come down for a reason other than a routine cleaning or lightbulb change.
I lived a sheltered life as a child.
Once upon a time, before my girls were born, I was reading bedtime books to Judah and Wesley when I heard a startling crash from next door – my bedroom, which no one was supposed to be in. When I went in to check it out, I found that the motion of our ceiling fan had slowly jiggled loose the screws that held the light globe on. It fell straight down onto the footboard of our bed and shattered into a million and one pieces.
And then there was that peaceful night at the beginning of last summer. Roger and I were sleeping soundly in our pale green room – same bed, different house – when there was an even louder, definitely more startling crash. This time it was because 10 months earlier, Roger had installed the ceiling fan (a new one) just a little bit incorrectly. There was something weird about the ceiling or something – it made it hard to install the fan the right way. This time around, the whole fan dropped out of the ceiling and landed on the floor beside our bed. We still use that fan. Roger had to glue one blade back together, but otherwise, it works just fine. (And it’s installed correctly now too.)
I’m not entirely comfortable sleeping under a ceiling fan anymore.
Tuesday evening we had some friends over. I was taking my friend Linda up to the 3rd floor of the main house and her 2-year-old Micah was following us. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, pointed up to the chandelier and said, “bad guy.” Poor little thing – he was scared to come up the stairs because of a light fixture. When he was really little, a light fixture fell onto the floor near him and scared him. Ever since, he’s been afraid of ceiling lights. He calls them “bad guys.”
I can sympathize.
Where do I put this?
I’ve managed to confuse myself by starting to use my xanga site again. I don’t know how many people keep up with both of them, and if I put something there, should I put it here too? Maybe I’ll just forget that one. I’ll start by reposting this here:
Scene
In the jigsaw puzzle on your basement table
(the one you started by candlelight last winter)
I’m the piece that belongs in the corner
over by the edge,
one in a myriad of
bits of cloudless sky blue.
If you notice me at all,
it’s because my cardboard layers
are slowly separating,
loosened by a toddler’s slobber,
nervous red fingernails, or
maybe the spreading condensation from a neglected glass of iced tea.
The first pieces placed are the obvious ones:
the horse’s face, the flashing scarlet of the woman’s dress,
the stable, solid lines of the edge.
And then the frustration of placing the commonplace:
using as a reference
uncertain, looping edges
that don’t complete an object
In my tumbled pile of blue i wait
for eyes perceptive enough
to make me fit.
If i could urge my paper fibers into motion
creep to the edge of this endless plateau of tableland
-wood grain showing conspicuously through the blue sky pure
in the hole that i leave-
and drop quietly to the
stains of the dusty second-hand carpet,
try out that existence for awhile…
Maybe then,
with the near-completion of a picture perfect scene
above me
Someone
might drop to their knees,
crawl around in the grime
and with searching fingers
…..find me.
9/09
she has the soul of a poet.
Yesterday Malin picked out a piece of watermelon to eat, looked at it and said, “Mom, look at this trampede of seeds!” Today I asked her if she knew what the word trampede meant. She thought a minute and said, “It’s like a whole bunch of people running right at you really fast!”
So she meant stampede. Either way, trampede or stampede, I was pretty impressed that she would take that word out of its typical context and apply it to seeds in a watermelon.
interview with avery, age 5
Gotta love the self-centeredness of a 5-year-old. 
Here’s what Avery thinks about her daddy:
1. What is something daddy always says to you? I love you.
2. What makes daddy happy? Me.
3. What makes daddy sad? If I’m not here.
4. How does your daddy make you laugh? Tickle me.
5. What was your daddy like as a child? I do not know. THAT’S a hard one.
6. How old is your daddy? 17
7. How tall is your daddy? Taller than you (mommy)
8.What is his favorite thing to do? Fix stuff.
9. What does your daddy do when you’re not around? Probably working. Probably fixing stuff.
10. If your daddy becomes famous, what will it be for? Money.
11. What is your daddy really good at? Fixing stuff.
12. What is your daddy not very good at? Making a house.
13. What does your daddy do for his job? Um… I know. Sing! No, not sing… preach.
14. What’s your daddy ’s favorite food? Oh, I should have asked him that. I don’t really know that.
15. What makes you proud of your daddy? I. don’t. know! …. Man.
16. If your daddy were a cartoon character, who would he be? I don’t know that one.
17. What do you and your daddy do together? Eat.
18. How are you and your daddy the same? Both of us love each other.
19. How are you and your daddy different? Cause he doesn’t have the same color of hair.
20. How do you know your daddy loves you? Because. ….. I don’t, that’s why.
21. Where is your daddy ’s favorite place to go? Camp.
and about mommy…….
1. What is something mom always says to you? I love you.
2. What makes mom happy? When I clean my room.
3. What makes mom sad? When I’m not here.
4. How does your mom make you laugh? Tickle me.
5. What was your mom like as a child? Charming.
6. How old is your mom? I don’t know.
7. How tall is your mom? Taller than Judah.
8.What is her favorite thing to do? Hug me and kiss me.
9. What does your mom do when you’re not around? Be sad.
10. If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for? We miss her.
11. What is your mom really good at? Loving me.
12. What is your mom not very good at? Building stuff.
13. What does your mom do for her job? Work in the camp.
14. What’s your mom’s favorite food? I don’t know that one.
15. What makes you proud of your mom? She reads me books.
16. If your mom were a cartoon character, who would she be? I don’t know.
17. What do you and your mom do together? Read books.
18. How are you and your mom the same? We both love each other.
19. How are you and your mom different? We don’t have the same color of hair.
20. How do you know your mom loves you? Cause she kisses me.
21. Where is your mom’s favorite place to go? Wal-Mart.
andy-roos
I sat down last night to try to write something on here, but it looks like I’m fresh out of words. But this morning I was listening to Andy Gullahorn – he’s a jewel of a singer that most people probably have never heard of. I first heard that he’s a friend of Andrew Peterson’s, (or maybe just someone that AP likes to listen to) and then my friend Andrew gave me some of his songs. Since I don’t have any of my own words at the moment, here are a few of Andy Gullahorn’s. Love it.
More of a Man
I took my granddad’s 22
When I was in the 2nd grade
I shot a deer right in the heart
And rubbed his blood upon my face.
The summer when I turned 16,
I got up each day before the dawn,
Was building barns and baling hay
Worked harder than the day was long.
Now I’m 30 and I have three kids
I watch Dora the Explorer in the morning
I feel a sad truth sinking in
Maybe I was more of a man back then
Used to be my daily fare
Was chicken fried steak and barbecue
Had Dr. Pepper every meal
And ice cream when the day was through
Now I’m watching my cholesterol
My metabolism’s obviously slowing
Tonight it’s salad once again
Surely I was more of a man back then…
I used to watch Jean Claude Van Damme
Killing guys on the silver screen
Now every night, with the kids in bed
We watch Gilmore Girls on DVD
Surely I was more of a man back then…
So I suck in my protruding gut
On our monthly dinner night
You’re saying something ’bout the kids
As I watch these young men pass me by
Well, I remember – I was just like them
I was lonely, but I called it independent.
And if lonesome is what manly is…
Maybe I was more of a man back then.
under the fitting room lights
Last night at Wal-Mart, on a whim, I tried on a long comfy-looking dress. I made the mistake of throwing it on over top of my t-shirt and my blue jeans, which gave me a bad first impression. So I stepped out of the changing room and told my cousin and my friend, “This makes me look like a member of a strange cult.”
The lady in charge of the fitting rooms got a kick out of that. Every time I saw her after that, she looked at me with a grin on her face like she was trying not to laugh.
I didn’t say the rest of my thought loud enough for her to hear. But it would have been something like, “Come on girls, lets get back to our husband and the rest of the wives.”
I actually think I may go back and buy the dress. Next time I’ll try picturing myself as a greek goddess… or maybe a happy and graceful flower child of the sixties…
Last night at Wal-Mart, on a whim, I tried on a long comfy-looking dress. I made the mistake of throwing it on over top of my t-shirt and my blue jeans, which gave me a bad first impression. So I stepped out of the changing room and told my cousin and my friend, “This makes me look like a member of a strange cult.”
The lady in charge of the fitting rooms got a kick out of that. Every time I saw her after that, she looked at me with a grin on her face like she was trying not to laugh.
I didn’t say the rest of my thought loud enough for her to hear. But it would have been something like, “Come on girls, lets get back to our husband and the rest of the wives.”
I actually think I may go back and buy the dress. Next time I’ll try picturing myself as a greek goddess… or maybe a happy and graceful flower child of the sixties…
a breath of fresh air
It’s been a good Saturday – even including the ridiculous amount of apple stack cakes that my cousin Cheryl and I prepared. (I admit – she did most of the work there.)
Roger was up before 7:00 to do some grocery shopping with Bill, but the rest of us got to be lazy and sleep in. Each of my kids has dealt with a low-grade fever and a little bit of upset stomach this week, and this morning was Avery’s moment. She threw up a little bit (that’s what finally dragged me out of bed) and then she had a nice relaxing bath. She seemed pretty much like herself after that. Hopefully that will be the end of it.
After I had my shower, the two of us went out on the little green porch (the nest, we call it) and had some girl time in the morning freshness. She brushed my hair for a while, and then painted my toenails. First a coat of light pink, then silver glitter. Then, to balance things out, I painted her toenails very neatly in a bright red. (Her choice.)
At one point the wind picked up a little bit, and she perked up with big eyes and said, “Oooh! Fresh air!!” So cute.
It was a nice start to a good day.
I don’t know about tomorrow… but I’m pretty sure it will have a good ending. My parents will be here! For the whole week! They’re working with me in the kitchen!
(Bill is “dreading” working with 4 Hunsbergers in the kitchen this week. I keep telling him it’s going to be the best week of his life. After all, we’re Hunsbergers. The only thing better than one Hunsberger is a whole bunch of us.)
fit and healthy to the core
When I woke up yesterday morning, I had no idea that it was going to be my fit and healthy day. I had to be in the kitchen at 6:45 to make sausage balls with Kendra, so Roger and I didn’t run.
But we heard that the Ronald McDonald dental people were up at the Homeplace Clinic doing free cleanings. So a bunch of us poor, “we work for non-profit” people went up to take advantage of a great opportunity.
It was an interesting experience. After lunch, I went with Kendra Fisher, Clark Hilty, John and Grace Driskill and Judah. Such an odd mixture to be in a dentist’s waiting room together. Also… when you’re with a group of 5 people getting their teeth cleaned, and there is only one dentist’s chair… you spend a lot of time in the waiting room. My reading options were Highlights and a pregnancy magazine. I read about pregnancies and remained grateful for vasectomies.
Then after supper, I did yoga at 7:00 with Mary Driskill. Wow. I thought yoga was all about flexibility. I can handle that. I wasn’t prepared for the strength part. I woke up this morning thinking that maybe I am pregnant. All of my previously known muscles are absolutely fine. Apparently there’s something inside of me called my “core.” That was suffering some this morning.
I can always tell when I’m getting a fever because of the weird dream sequence that I have when I sleep. Somehow that yoga routine made me think of the fever-dream.
That probably means something.
The group that’s doing Bible School this week and doing work projects during the day painted all of our porches green, and put another coat on all the green trim on our house.
I love green.
this week
This may be the hardest week of the summer. Wesley and Malin have day camp from 9:00-3:00, then there’s Bible School every evening at 6:00. There are two different church groups here – one to lead the day camp, and one to lead the Bible school. I’m in the camp kitchen all day long feeding both of these groups plus the day camp campers, and Roger is busy in his own multitude of ways.
He drives the church van to pick up kids every morning for day camp, and keeps the VBS group busy with work projects until it’s time to run the route again to take kids back home. He barely gets time to eat supper before he’s back on the road picking up kids for Bible school. And… two hours later he’s taking them back home again.
I am not a Vacation Bible School advocate.
As I’m writing this, I’m starting to get a suspicion that maybe this is only Monday. It feels like we’ve been doing this for most of a week already.
Monday in the kitchen got off to a rough start. Both of the groups brought about 10 more people than the first estimate that we’d heard (and were counting on.) And it didn’t help that there was a miscommunication about the breakfast time. So one group showed up half an hour earlier than the other and got more food.
I really like the weeks where the kitchen runs like clockwork.
But the weather has been warm, dry and breezy. That’s amazing.
And the 4 little strangers whose clothes I wash seem to be happy and healthy – and looking forward to a beach trip after the madness of life inside a summer camp.
us.
Roger, in case you really do look this page up… here’s the picture you never got around to taking. Maybe yours would have been better, but… maybe not. Getting a decent picture of 4 children is tricky business.
a heads up
A couple of days ago, my friend was telling me about this literary scavenger hunt she’s doing. The idea intrigued me, so… guess who has a new writing project? There are 40 different (diverse) topics, and it’s supposed to be finished by Sept. 1st. I don’t think I’ll post them all here. If that kind of thing interests you, check my xanga site that I’ve ignored for two years.
Some day I’ll probably put them all here on wordpress and give you a link on the side of the screen – I like keeping things organized.
They’ll be in numerical order.
Have you noticed??
…I’ve figured out how to easily post pictures to my blog. And I’ve finally got the camera out again to take some pictures of my cute kids. In honor of the collision of those two circumstances, here’s an old one:
If you were seeing this family in real life, wouldn’t you feel a little bit sorry for that naive set of parents? Looking at this picture, I think I kind of understand why so many people have looked at me in the grocery store and said, “It looks like you’ve got your hands full!” It does look like it.
Nowadays on the rare occasion when someone says that to me, I smile and say, “I’ve got a bunch of good helpers.” It’s true. I didn’t realize how hard those years were until I had the chance to look back on them. Those little ragamuffins have turned into intriguing human beings who actually make my life easier at times. (uh-oh… being reprimanded for staying up too late! bye!)
Mmm… the first sloppy joe of the summer.
And it’s only at the very beginning of camp season that you’ll hear me say anything as complimentary as “mmmm” when I bite into a sloppy joe. (Actually, I ate this one alone, so no one heard me this time.)
Doesn’t this picture just make you want to sit down and eat a meal in the camp dining hall?
