We Got Together On Friday To Celebrate Dave's Birthday

There was cake,

spontaneous dancing,



and gifts! My brother Dave is the rare type of person for whom I can buy hefty biographies of John Adams and Ulysses S. Grant along with a book titled "Stuff White People Like" and have them be equally received. I heart Davy.



My Mom also had a present for me (we get a little backed up on birthday celebrations sometimes) thanks Mom!



We've got some very cute kids in the family! And a couple of cute moms, too!

Miranda is six months old now, and is becoming a very fun little person.




Sometimes she gets a little too excited when you make crazy faces at her, and she scratches,

but I'm sure this stage will be short lived.





(Jim is missing from these pictures, as he was the night's photographer, and allowed me to post from his digital bounty.)

Making Granola Always Makes Me Think About Jesus.

Now, I realize that that's not a typical sentiment, so I'll do my best to explain. Granola stinks. It's a delicious-smelling stench, but there's no escaping it. I have never, ever, ever made granola without someone coming through the kitchen to tell me that they could smell it clear up in the north end of camp. You can smell it in the staff houses, in the meeting halls, even up on the nature trail (it makes me feel bad for those hungry firefighters and lumber yard workers down the street)! People usually ask if it's chocolate chip cookies or cake that they are smelling, and they invariably end their trip through the dining hall with an extra-long breath and happy sigh.
The thing about being the granola-maker though, is that with every opening and closing of the oven door, which all you camp cook types know is near constant, the granola's fragrance is pushed into your every fiber and pore. I sometimes change my clothes after making a batch, but its scent lingers, clinging to me, until I shower.


2Corinthians 2:14 But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumph in Christ, and manifests through us the sweet aroma of the knowledge of Him in every place.

Granola's fragrance, as overpowering as it can be, is fleeting. Are there times in my life where the aroma of Christ is as well? Does it remain in my pores after fruitful study, examination of my heart, and prayer only to be washed away or covered up by the world? Or my own apathy?

Camp Truck Joyride (Dangerride?)

This Last Desert Trip Was Not So Magical,

but we did go to Starbucks. Bowden asked for these pictures to be taken because he was pretty stoked about being behind the chair.

From My Poser Artist Phase, 1997

I Suffer From A Rare Affliction Called "I Didn't Make It From Scratch Guilt"

Very little research has been done on this disorder, however, it is thought to be congenital and is commonly found among food service workers. There is currently no known cure. One diagnosed with the disease may experience periods of latency, but symptoms are easily exacerbated by several months of youth-centered menus. In especially advanced cases of I.D.M.I.F.S.G, patients may suffer attacks in which they think that because homemade Szechuan chicken worked for a group of one hundred and thirty, that it would also be feasible for a group of two hundred and ten. Although the afflicted are not likely swayed by preemptive counsel, once the meal has been completed, sufferers will be free from identical future episodes.

The weekend had been very long, then was capped off with some leg-wrestling. Yes...leg-wrestling. We played Common Ground Gladiators at youth group, and I was "Lisa Long-Legs". Dave, our resident computer guru, did an American Gladiators mock-up of each of us- complete with bizarre stats (Lisa Long-Legs is only a foot and a half tall when sitting). Fortunately, I already had this viking picture from the summer staff board that fit my child-flipping gladiator persona.

If One Must Stop To Clean Up After A Carsick Child, He/She Should Do It Somewhere Gorgeous.

Jim turns 34!

We went to Bjs for dinner tonight. My three brothers went early to get a table while Jen and the kids and I stuck around the house. Ethan was not happy with this arrangement, but was easily pacified by the promise of goofy picture-taking time. He is quite advanced in this arena as you can see... (I love his stumpy, first adult tooth in these, and his window reflection leaning on mine)

Happy day fuzzy birthday boy!

Happy Day Picnic

"Dragonfly hunting"