A Week in Notes

Dear Reader,
This morning I did 100 pull ups. The bar shredded my hands into bloody ribbons. When I was done with the pull ups, I did 100 push ups, 100 sit ups, and 100 squats. All of those combined weren't nearly as bad as the pull ups. I read recently that there are 10 times the nerve endings in your hands as there are in your feet or your legs. My hands are on fire. I took my final this morning, even though I could barely hold the pencil. I blame my score on the pain. In the end, I will still get an 'A.'

Dear Reader,
I found myself in a sunny spot on the floor next to a pile of clean laundry that I didn't want to fold. The sun felt so good that I laid on the floor, Sophie-style. As I dozed in and out, I could still taste sweet potato chips on my tongue. I wonder if sweet potato chips can induce euphoria. I will have to eat more of them.

Dear Reader,
As a third child, Eli has developed every necessary survival skill. 1) Getting what he wants/needs. If his request is not immediately acknowledged, he repeats himself ad nauseum, getting progressively louder with each repetition. This has become so habitual for him that he doesn't bother to wait for a response until he starts the broken record. I usually catch him on the third or fourth time. But, I have to admit, it's effective. 2) Making sure the right story is told. If tattle-telling must be done, he should be the one to do it, this is especially true when he is, in fact, the perpetrator. 3) Know when to pull out the artillery. Eli doesn't quite understand how to play the game 'paper, rock, scissors,' but he definitely grasps the general concept. Recently in sacrament meeting, he was playing with his brothers. Everyone within several rows got a good chuckle when Eli's voice clearly rang out "Paper, rock, GUN!" (followed by explosive sound effect).

Dear Reader,
I feel a little like I'm floating in limbo this week. The structure has gone out of my mornings. My hands are still raw, and my burned foot (ask me later) has become infected. The pain isn't doing much for me. Showering is miserable. It reminds me of when I was first learning to breastfeed Isaac. Six weeks of dodging a direct stream of water, and avoiding hugs...  ugh, not very fun times. But my wounds are healing quickly. It will not be weeks before I enjoy a shower again.

Dear Reader,
There is a brigade of red tulips outside my front window, all lined up. Isaac eagerly counts them each day. He reports to me: today, 56... 74... 100 tulips have bloomed! I promise the boys that I did plant purple, pink and white tulips. They are impatient to see something other than red. But every time I pull into my driveway, I cannot think of anything I love more than tulip-red. The hyacinths by the front door make me pause each time just to savor the sweet fragrance. Is there anything lovelier than spring?

Dear Reader,
Today I played an arrangement of Wondrous Love by the Professor. He has such a gift. A few weeks ago he sang an arrangement he'd done of Ye Elders of Israel with a group of men. It just took my breath away, it was that good. He spends hours on these arrangements, tweaking this chord, that interval, this crossover. The result is always something truly amazing. There is nothing "kitchy" in what he does. I wish everyone could appreciate the amount of spiritual energy he invests in these short moments of beauty.

Dear Reader,
I have missed blogging lately. I often think about what I might write. And then I get busy, or I'm not busy, but unmotivated, or distracted, or every muscle in my body (including my brain) is sore... so I don't write. And the ideas get backlogged until I'm not really sure where to start. So, I've spilled some of  them out for you, and now I can start afresh next time.

With love,
The Professor's Wife