Elizabeth (aka Bettina/Betty Boop/Boop/Tine/Tina/Squiddzen/Squiddz) is always complaining that she’ll call and ask for life updates and I’ll say I don’t have any because not much worth reporting happens. She says that later on, she’ll read a laundry list of updates on the blawg. This is for you, sister.




Our church is in the middle of 21 days of prayer. Every
morning they have a prayer service at 6:33 as well as additional prayer
services on Thursday and Sunday nights. I’m all for worshipping the Lord but we haven’t gone to any of the morning services because again, 6:33 IN THE AM. I couldn’t
figure out why it was at 6:33 and not 6:30. Being the mathematical genius that
I am, I said, “Maybe it’s because 6×3+3= 21 and it’s for 21 days.” Christopher replied, “Or it’s
because the bracelets they handed out to remind us to pray have Matthew 6:33 on
them and that’s the verse they’re focusing on.”

I keep a document on my phone with all my usernames and passwords. Everything is very abbreviated and written in a code only I can understand so I’m not too concerned about it being used for hacking purposes. The problem is I did so well with the abbreviations and codes that I don’t remember what site/account It- *franks* is for. I’m too clever for myself to decode.

Last week I made an extra-healthy meal of baked tilapia and
cooked carrots. I haven’t gotten used to cooking on an electric stove and every
so often I’ll accidentally leave the burner on because there’s no obvious flame.
AB and I were having a living room picnic while we watched an American Girl
movie. Suddenly there was a loud pop and the sound of shattering glass. My
first thought was what did the cats break now? as they have a history of
knocking things off the counter. I went to investigate and the stove, floor, and
counters were covered in thousands of pieces of broken glass. I put
the 9×12 glass baking dish on a burner that hadn’t been turned off. It took
almost an hour to clean up. If this is what’s going to happen when I make extra
healthy meals it might not be worth it.


In other kitchen issues, every night the refrigerator has been making a horrible noise that sounds like a jackhammer. The only remedy we’ve found is to unplug it. We finally called Tim the refrigerator repairman and he came today to assess the situation. Naturally, it was quiet as a mouse for the first thirty minutes he was in the kitchen. It was like taking your sick child to the doctor but the second the doctor walks in the room the child goes berzerk and starts spinning around on the rolling stool, looking healthy as a horse. Tim asked if it happens when the refrigerator turns on and off. I was not aware that even happens so I for sure didn’t know if that’s what causes the noise. Tim said he couldn’t do much without hearing the sound firsthand even though I did a great job of recreating it. I shared my diagnosis of it being an ice machine problem but Tim disagreed. I tried to find a recording of the noise I had sent a friend but it wasn’t there. Tim kept staring at the refrigerator and I stared at the counter because I wasn’t sure when this standoff with the appliance would end. I really thought Tim might hang around for an hour waiting for the noise and I’d have to offer him lunch. Suddenly the jackhammer sound started again and we both perked up with much more enthusiasm than is generally given to a refrigerator. It reminded me of the over the top enthusiasm when a child finally uses the potty. I ended up paying Tim $79 to tell me the noise was indeed from the ice maker after all. As you may recall, I told him that at the beginning of the visit. He should be paying ME $79 for doing his job. 




Speaking of American Girls, we’re knee-deep in the dolls and
their stories. Annabelle has listened to all the Felicity, Kirsten, Kaya and
Addy books. We’re learning history using the books and it’s been so fun. Annabelle
is currently on a Kaya kick so every day we’re Indians who are moving camp and
hunting for berries in the forest. Oma gave her a Maryellen AG doll for
Christmas and we’ve read two of her books. The American Girls have some hard-hitting
stories. Kirsten’s best friend dies. Kaya and her sister are kidnapped. Addy has
to run for her life. Meanwhile, my little American girl is sighing and telling me, “Sometimes I wish people wouldn’t compliment me so much.” Their life adversities could not be more different.