"Is my mouth crooked?"

That is what Clark asked me yesterday. I looked at him, trying to figure out why he asked that question. I smiled and told him “no” that his mouth was not crooked. A short while later the question came again. “Is my mouth crooked?” as he pushed his face up close to mine. I again smiled and told him no. Soon he was at it again “Is my mouth crooked?” I tried to reassure him it wasn't. When I looked at his furrowed brow I could tell he was not convinced so I took his jaw in my hands and making loud machine-like noises I pretended to straighten his mouth. He smiled. I smiled. And Phil burst out laughing. “Do it again.” Phil commanded. I did. It must have worked; Clark stopped asking if his mouth was crooked.

A Trip to Olympia

A quick day trip to Olympia last fall yielded fond memories and two wonderful pictures that serve as a reminder of a time when a one-hour drive would physically connect us with our youngest daughter, her husband and two very cute grandsons. Clark and Phil had bowling that day from 9:00-noon and then we traveled south where we visited while grandsons slept. For a very late lunch we decided to pile in the van and go to Herfy’s, a couple of miles away, nine of us in a seven-seatbelt van. Here is Phil sitting in the very back where we usually put groceries. It is not hard to tell that he enjoyed his “special” seat.

Clark is holding the hand of a very compliant 21-month old.

Where is the 2?

I checked on Clark one morning while he was on the treadmill doing three miles an hour at a 12% incline. He is usually sweaty when he finishes. He had gone over a mile but has to go two so I left him and went outside for my own walk. When I came back in the house a while later I could hear the treadmill. “He must have gotten off while I was gone and has just gotten back on.” I went in to check. He was up to almost four miles and was dripping wet and telling me he had to go to the “2.” Months ago I put an arrow by the first digit in distance so that he would know when he could press stop. Somehow he had gotten sidetracked and missed the “2” and was still full of hope that he would see it. I wondered how far he would have gone if I had not gone in to check on him again.

Another Combined Effort

When you are married to a concrete sequential you can expect to see “detail the cars” come up on his radar once a year. Today was the day—a day scripted for car washing, waxing and detailing—70 degrees and sunny. The energy level was high when the five of us went outside at 1:30 to begin and completely gone when we picked up the last rag and put away the Turtle wax at 5:30. By then patience had been stretched so thin it snapped. I had taken out my CD player so we could listen to an eclectic selection of Brazilian music, Hawaiian music and music from the 60s. We sang along and did some dancing when we weren’t quite so intent on our own specific job. But even music didn’t help when the afternoon wore on and on. Was it worth it? We saved hundreds of dollars and probably did a better job than a professional detailer but most important was the working together as a family. And the cars do look great! And we don’t have to do this for another 12 months.