Ben and Milo have this toy that plays these music cartridges. They're interactive and there's a scrolling paper screen . . . the widget comes with a working microphone on the side and the boys are singing into it right now. I *think* they're trying to sing along with it, but if so, it requires a vivid imagination to think they're singing the same song. Nevertheless, it's cute.
I got a lot of work done today and have a lot left to go. I'm going to bed early tonight though. I'm bushed.
We just about have the living room at an intermediary living level. The boxes are gone, the books put away. The dog stuff still needs to move downstairs and the walls need photos, but at least I could get at the carpet to vacuum. I was working on the hard copy of a document today instead of at my computer, so I sat in one of the comfy chairs in the living room and worked. A gentle breeze passed through that part of the house, the lush green leaves of the trees formed the view through the window.
It was really nice. It was REALLY tempting to take a nap :)
+++++++++++
Elizabeth tagged me with the blog question "When did you know you were different?" and my reply is similar to hers in that I was a minority student in a US-minority school. I grew up in Washington D.C. and at least at that time, Shephard Park Elementary was not a very racially mixed school. There were four white kids in my class, of which I was one.
That said, I try not to hit the "different" thing too hard. I believe that my willingness to be "different" -- the belief that I don't have a life like other people do -- has not contributed to my well being. I've made decisions and run my life in directions that didn't work well because I felt so completely different than other people.
When I come at things from the point of view that God loves me like all His other children, expects the same sort of behavior of me that He expects of all His other children, and will send the same blessings He sends all his other children . . . I straighten up and fly right.
It's great to be a little different. Sameness can be dull and a lot of what we might emulate in others isn't what God had in mind either. But my "you're different" message too often leads to "there's no sense following the rules because even if you do, you'll never fit in." And soon, my life spins off again into chaos. So I try REALLY hard not to listen to that nonsense any more. It's not that awful to focus on the similarities.
You know what you get when you take honey, spices, and whole grains out of a basic 50/50 bread recipe? You get french bread (or pizza dough :). It's really nice having the honey, spices, and a variety of grains, but they're not really -- and you'll hear lots of people say otherwise, but I don't believe it -- they're not really what makes the bread, bread.
I got a lot of work done today and have a lot left to go. I'm going to bed early tonight though. I'm bushed.
We just about have the living room at an intermediary living level. The boxes are gone, the books put away. The dog stuff still needs to move downstairs and the walls need photos, but at least I could get at the carpet to vacuum. I was working on the hard copy of a document today instead of at my computer, so I sat in one of the comfy chairs in the living room and worked. A gentle breeze passed through that part of the house, the lush green leaves of the trees formed the view through the window.
It was really nice. It was REALLY tempting to take a nap :)
+++++++++++
Elizabeth tagged me with the blog question "When did you know you were different?" and my reply is similar to hers in that I was a minority student in a US-minority school. I grew up in Washington D.C. and at least at that time, Shephard Park Elementary was not a very racially mixed school. There were four white kids in my class, of which I was one.
That said, I try not to hit the "different" thing too hard. I believe that my willingness to be "different" -- the belief that I don't have a life like other people do -- has not contributed to my well being. I've made decisions and run my life in directions that didn't work well because I felt so completely different than other people.
When I come at things from the point of view that God loves me like all His other children, expects the same sort of behavior of me that He expects of all His other children, and will send the same blessings He sends all his other children . . . I straighten up and fly right.
It's great to be a little different. Sameness can be dull and a lot of what we might emulate in others isn't what God had in mind either. But my "you're different" message too often leads to "there's no sense following the rules because even if you do, you'll never fit in." And soon, my life spins off again into chaos. So I try REALLY hard not to listen to that nonsense any more. It's not that awful to focus on the similarities.
You know what you get when you take honey, spices, and whole grains out of a basic 50/50 bread recipe? You get french bread (or pizza dough :). It's really nice having the honey, spices, and a variety of grains, but they're not really -- and you'll hear lots of people say otherwise, but I don't believe it -- they're not really what makes the bread, bread.
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