Lift Up Your Hearts!

There's some debate just what Emmen is.  Stephan says it's a suburb of Luzern, and I suppose it is, Luzern being a 15-minute bus ride, or an even shorter train ride, away, which we proved today when Vivienne acquired her Swiss passport.  But it hardly has a "suburban" feel, at least as I know suburbs.  For one thing, there's decent public transportation—but that's no doubt because it's Swiss.  For another, most people live in apartments, which says "city" to me, though Janet says that is also a Swiss characteristic, city or no.  There's traffic.  There's industry.  There are plenty of stores, but no strip malls (though there is a mall or two).  Everything is close together, and what yards there are, are tiny.  Children walk to school.  Janet walks to the grocery store (actually, several grocery stores), the train station, the above-mentioned malls, the swimming pool complex, and church.  That feels like a city to me.

And yet....  Emmen certainly isn't a city like Basel, or Luzern, with a lively city center, and centuries of history and culture.  And it has a rural feel, as well.  Also within easy walking distance is a long hiking trail along the river (pedestrian, bike, and also equestrian in most places).  The trail runs through wooded areas where trees are still being harvested by loggers.

(Switzerland is a great place for hiking trails.  There's one that leads all the way into the city of Luzern; we had planned to hike it today, but the -9 degree Celsius temperature was a deterrent.   Perhaps we should have taken advantage of such balmy weather, though:  tomorrow's high is supposed to be -10, with a wind chill of -16 (that's 3 degrees Fahrenheit).

There are also several small farms nearby.  One of Joseph's favorite walks is to the see the cows and goats at the nearest dairy farm, where for a single franc we pick up a liter of fresh, delicious, raw milk.  (Click on the pictures to enlarge.)

So, what is Emmen?  Whatever it is, it's like nothing in the United States that I know of.

Joseph has two different words for "spin."  One, pronounced "pin," refers to when he, himself, is spinning.  The other I haven't yet figured out how to transcribe, but it has two syllables and refers to spinning an object, like a top, a ball, a block, a coin.  Whether it's supposed to be one word, or a two-word command, the meaning is clear when he hands you an object:  "Spin it!"  You'd be surprised at how many items that are not tops can be made to spin. 

"Pin," on the other hand, can refer to being spun in someone's arms, or twirling himself around till he staggers with dizziness, or being spun on Mommy's office chair.  When he does the last sitting backwards and holding on to the seat back, it can be very fast, and produces an impressive postrotatory nystagmus.

He also likes this, sitting in his space capsule (backpack) and training for NASA.  The position makes up for the reduced rotational velocity.  At the end he is saying and signing, "more."

This was the first video, taken nearly two weeks ago to let Dad-o know that Joseph is thinking about him even though he isn't here with us.

We love you, Dad-o!

The real question is not, How Smart Is Your Baby? but How can you help your baby avoid losing his extraordiary powers as he grows up?  As the book of that name acknowledges, every normal baby is a born genius.  If you don't think so, take three years and try to become fluent in a foreign language.  Then remember that most babies can do that with ease.  For multiple languages.  Simultaneously.  And while learning the very concept of language itself.

Joseph and I try to take at least one walk each day.  Most of the time I'm the one doing the walking, and comes along passively in the stroller, because I don't get much exercise going at his pace, and that's half the point of the walk.  (The other half is giving his parents a break.)  Until recently, we'd go where I wanted to go.  But two days ago, Joseph started expressing his opinions in the matter.

He's usually pretty complacent and quiet as we trundle along, so I was shocked when he suddenly started fussing as we passed through an intersection on our way home.  I stopped, and he pointed in the cross direction, clearly indicating that he wanted to turn.  "Aha!"  I thought.  "I know where that road leads."

"Do you want to go see the goats?" I asked.  Joseph quickly signed, "Please."  I made the turn toward the dairy farm, and he was his happy self again.

I found that astonishing enough—that he was able to recognize the intersection.  But it was a straight line from that point on to the goats, and he'd been there many times before.

Then yesterday, when I had planned to walk to the nearby mall, Joseph once again fussed and pointed in another direction.  I decided to forgo shopping and give him his head.

At each intersection I stopped the stroller and asked, "Shall we go this way, or that way?" with appropriate gestures.  Even though I deliberately changed up the way I asked the question (so as not to give him any hints), he led me unerringly, without hesitation, and through many turns to one of his favorite places:  the swimming center, where there are also goats (chickens, peacocks, rabbits, etc.) to see.

But that's not where we stopped.  At the final turn, when I knew for certain that he knew where he was—because he could see the animals from the intersection—he chose to go left instead of right.  So left we went, and this time he led me—perfectly, and over a route that had changed recently due to construction, so he'd only been on it a few times—to the library.

I'd been that far before, but after the library I was in new territory.  I explored, following his directions, until we came to a main street, at which point he decided he didn't like that and asked to go turn around.  We explored a bit more, then I decided we'd had enough and headed back towards the library.  At that point Joseph fell asleep, so it's a good thing I knew how to get home.  But if we ever get lost, I'm asking him for directions.

My brother was like that as a child, though at an older age.  He might run off (as he did in Yellowstone National Park when he was six) but we could count on him to find his way back.  Unfortunately, he says, he lost much of that ability as he grew up.

So how can that loss be prevented?  Is such skill like a muscle that must be exercised regularly?  Use it or lose it?  It should be easy to devise "navigation games" and create increasingly difficult puzzles through the years, to keep the skill sharp.  But it would take a conscious effort to make that happen: no one seems to care about leaving no children behind navigationally.

Joseph's language abilities are growing steadily; it's amazing to see how much he has learned in the short time I've been here.  And that's just in English!  It is so strange to hear Swiss German words coming from his mouth, and to see that he obviously understands when Stephan speaks to him.  The latest game is for him to hand Janet one of his number puzzle pieces, whereupon she says (for example): Mommy and Grandma say nine.  The Germans say neun.  Daddy says nüün."  (The last two sentences are said not in English, but in German and Swiss German, respectively.)  Then Joseph gets her another number and asks, "more."  This is as close to formal language teaching as he gets—because he asks for it.  Mostly he just hears people speaking and figures it out, as all babies do.

Of course a 19-month-old does not speak clearly in any language.  Joseph has a few words that anyone can understand, but mostly it takes a parent, or a grandparent who has been living with him for a while, to make out what he is saying.  For example, it took me some time to realize that he knows the number "0," because the word he uses doesn't sound at all like "zero" to me.  But it is consistent and always associated with that number.  (And, no, it's not the German or Swiss German word; Joseph says "null" clearly.)

It's especially helpful that Janet has taught him many ASL signs.  It's too cute, really.  Please, thank you, help, water, sleep, milk, down, play, Mommy, Daddy, Grandma, airplane, train, and more, including the very useful toilet.  Joseph will often speak and sign at the same time, which helps me understand his speech, be it English, German, Swiss German, or Josephese.  I know I'm going to be helpless on the phone, though.

Note:  I love American Sign Language, but what sadist designed the sign for "please" to involve rubbing the hand on the chest?  No one who had to do the laundry after a toddler's spaghetti dinner or yoghurt-and-muesli breakfast, that's for sure.

And Vivienne?  Janet's beginning to learn the difference between the cry that means, "I'm hungry" and the cry that means, "I need to go to the bathroom."  But I'll let her write the post about Elimination Communication.  :)

Every day, after the noon meal, we follow the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer "Daily Devotions for Individuals and Families" noontime liturgy.  Joseph loves the time and is an active participant, as they use hand motions for many of the prayers.  (Some, at least, are a legacy of Janet's American Sign Language minor.)  For example, at "Give praise, you servants of the LORD" we raise our hands high in the air; at "in quietness and trust shall be our strength" we flex our biceps.

Then comes time for the reading, and Joseph jumps up to get the Bible for Daddy.  After that we pray. Before Vivienne was born, Joseph would put his hand on Janet's belly to "pray for the baby."  Now he puts his hand out, says "baby" and looks a little confused.  :)  After the Collect, he will often join in with a hearty, "Amen!"

That's it:  short but sweet and powerful.  It's especially delightful to watch Joseph's enthusiasm for "praise the Lord time."

As you might have guessed by the blog silence, we've been a little busy around here.  We have Baby News at last!

Vivienne Linda Stücklin
Born at home in Emmen, Switzerland
Saturday, January 21, 2012 at 12:26 p.m.
Length: 53cm (21in)
Weight: 3840g (8lbs 7oz)

I would never say that anyone's labor was easy, and this certainly wasn't, but it was a WHOLE lot better than with Joseph.  Consequently, Janet is recovering quickly and enjoying little Vivienne immensely.  So, you might observe, is Grandma.

(Click photo to enlarge.)

Vivienne was only a few days late, but the wait seemed long because Joseph had been a week early.  Once Janet was sure she was in labor, Stephan's parents joined us to keep Joseph entertained.  He did get to see his sister's birth, though I'm sure he won't remember it in years to come.

Ten years ago, I had no idea why anyone would want a home birth.  Now it's glaringly obvious.  That could be a whole nother post.  For now, suffice it to say that hospitals and doctors are great when it comes to emergencies and high-risk circumstances, but haven't a clue when it comes to normal childbirth. What a difference an experienced midwife makes—and how wonderful to give birth in (and to be born into) one's own, familiar nest.

Joseph had a rough first day (and night—hence so did the parents), bursting into heart-rending tears every time Vivienne cried.  But Janet learned to calm him by enlisting his help in calming his sister, such as patting her gently.  By the next day he seemed to have accepted the idea that her cries were a form of communication.  He loves to give her kisses, and sometimes even suggests to Janet that "Baby" needs mommy milk.

Some of the old anxiety returned today when the doctor came and Vivienne cried more than usual (more accurately, her cry was a bit different from usual).  I think tomorrow she is getting her first heel stick; remembering how his cousin Jonathan curled up in a ball and sobbed, "I didn't want them to cut my baby's heel," I think we may try to distract him in another room when that happens.

Vivienne herself is doing great, working on advanced degrees in eating, sleeping, eliminating, and charming the world.

But for the rest of us, sleep is still a bit on the short side, and I am up 'way too late working on this post.  So, enough for now.

Welcome to our world, Vivienne!  Congratulations to the family, and good night to all!

Breakfast
An international child, Joseph might start his day with leftover pizza, or rice, or bread and peanut butter, or a tortilla with "spices" (more on that later).  But for the most part his breakfast is "no no bissi" a.k.a. yoghurt and muesli.  Unsweetened muesli and plain yoghurt—and he loves it.  His drink for all meals is water.  He feeds himself with a spoon quite competently, although as you can imagine some cleanup is required.

For breakfast I might have yoghurt and muesli, or cooked oatmeal, or good Swiss bread, or yummy, fresh Swiss eggs (with golden yolks).

Dinner
The noontime meal is the primary one here, because Daddy comes home from work to join us.  To the Swiss, the idea of a cold lunch is strange. I must say that cooking makes the morning seem short, but it's very nice to have an easy meal in the evening.

We've been eating very well.  Janet is a good cook, and has been experimenting with new meals that supposedly freeze well, doubling them to have a supply for ATB (after the baby is born).  The salutary habit of American churches of supplying families with post-childbirth meals seems to be unknown here.  We've had meatloaf, orange chicken, curried shrimp and rice, pizza, fondue, raclette, sausage dishes, and other good things I can't list because I can't remember, and only this week's menu is post on the refrigerator door.  :)

Joseph eats pretty much whatever the rest of us are having, feeding himself competently with some combination of fork and fingers.  The exception is sweets, which are mostly excluded from his diet, just as coffee, tea, beer, and wine are.  He is, however, beginning to realize that the adult "crackers" (cookies) taste better than his....

Supper
This is a lighter meal, often leftovers, or bread and cheese.  The Swiss do eat sandwiches, but it doesn't seem very common.  Again, Joseph eats bits and pieces of whatever the adults have.

Snacks
In Switzerland, it seems expected that children will eat more often than at mealtimes.  "znüüni" (at 9 a.m.) and "zvieri" (at 4 p.m.) are planned snacks, although Joseph gets his at varying times depending on our schedule.  He might have banana and peanut butter, or cheese, or bread, or "no no bissi," or almost anything else that is reasonably healthy.  One of his favorite snacks is "ti" with "pie-h'n" (spices)—tortilla sprinkled with something from the spice rack, from garlic powder to cinnamon.  Joseph would put spices on almost everything if allowed.  (Peanut butter toast with cinnamon, anyone?)  The only time he objected was when I gave him some of my pizza, which I had sprinkled with "pie-h'n" of my own—red pepper flakes.

Drinks
Joseph's drink at all meals, and in between, is water.  Occasionally he will have a small cup of milk, and once, when we squeezed some blood oranges, he had a few sips of the juice.  The fresh-squeezed juice was a real treat, especially for Janet and me, because no Floridian can be really happy with less than fresh-squeezed juice.  For breakfast, we usually drink "orange juice-like liquid" (orange juice from concentrate) from the store, as not-from-concentrate juice here isn't even as good as it is in the U.S., and it's expensive.

Unfortunately, I'm here in the wrong season to get the delicious unpasteurized cider from the farm down the road.  (The farmer expressed astonishment that cider must be pasteurized in the U.S.)

Janet's been drinking boring, store-bought milk since getting close to her due date, but the other day we walked to the diary farm and bought a liter of raw milk.  For dinner and supper we mostly drink water, but lately I've been indulging in the milk.  Unpasteurized milk really is a different sort of beast.  Normally I drink only skim milk, and can't abide even 1%, let alone whole milk.  But in its natural state, whole milk is delicious.

That's about it for this edition of Life with Joseph.  It's taken me three days to get this far, and those-who-can't-be-here are anxious for news.  Of course, the news they're most anxious for is a birth announcement, but I give what I can....

When Moses received the Ten Commandments, when Hatshepsut ruled Egypt, when the Phoenicians were developing their alphabet, The Senator was a young tree.  When Jesus was born, it was nearly 1500 years old.

It was the largest pond cypress in the United States, the largest native tree in Florida, and possibly the largest tree of any sort east of the Mississippi.  The oldest of its species in the United States, and one of the oldest trees in the world, it had stood for some 3500 years in what is now a small park near our home.  It was even older than Te Matua Ngahere, which we travelled to the ends of the earth to see.

We enjoyed visiting The Senator, and would have done so more often had the park not had a reputation for some nefarious goings-on at the time our children were young.  I can't access our own pictures at the moment, but there's picture in the Wikipedia article that looks much like ours, only with different people standing in front of the tree.  (You might have to wait till the blackout is over to see it.)

But the tree that was 2500 years old at the time of the Norman Conquest is no more.  The Senator was destroyed by fire yesterday, January 16, 2012.  Officially, arson has been ruled out, but I agree with Beth Kassab's call for a more serious investigation.  It is too easy to attribute the death of the elderly to natural causes.  Such a venerable being deserves better.

It's hard being a long-distance grandmother, whether the distance is 1000 miles or 4800.  Certainly I'd rather our grandchildren live just down the street!  But one compensation for the loss of frequent interaction is the joy of seeing how much the children change between visits.  As we await the time when I'll have baby news to announce, I'll share a few stories of life with Joseph, 18 months old and soon to assume the important role of big brother.

John Ciardi said that a child should be allowed to learn, "at the rate determined by her own happy hunger."  Joseph's current "happy hunger" is for letters and numbers.  He  has a wooden puzzle of the upper case alphabet that is the first toy he takes out in the morning, and again after his nap.  This was supplemented at Christmas by the nicest number puzzle I've seen, which includes the numbers from 0 through 20 and arithmetic operators as well.

First, he toddles over to the shelf for his alphabet, and then—because it is more difficult to reach—points to the number puzzle and commands, "Hum!" ["Numbers!"]  After naming the numbers and letters to himself and/or asking for them to be named, taking them out of the puzzle frame, putting them back in, and yes, throwing them with glee across the room—he is a little boy—he will get paper and a pencil and ask for various numbers and letters to be written, often adding his own scribbles, which, of course, look nothing like the models—yet.

Joseph knows all the letters, most by letter name (e.g. "bee," "ess," "tee"), some by "is for" (e.g. "cow" for C, "ha(wk)" for H.  He knows the numbers 0 - 10, 12, and 20.  Some are clear ("two, "ten") and some, such as seven and twenty, you have to know what he's saying, but it's consistent.

Not only does he know the pieces, and where they go, but he's also cognizent of what's missing, and worries until it is found.  Before dinner, and again at night, we help Joseph pick up the toys.  The other day he and I were working on the number puzzle, and Stephan the alphabet.  Stephan remarked to himself, "where's the Z?", finally found it (did I mention that the pieces get thrown around the room?), and put the puzzle where it belongs without announcing his success.  After Joseph and I finished the number puzzle, he went to Stephan and asked, "Zee?", content only when shown that it was in its proper place in the puzzle.

Just this morning Janet discovered that he also knows how to count, at least to six:  she was fixing dinner (which happens at noon here, because Daddy bikes home from work to join us), and Joseph was helping by handing her potatoes to weigh.  He handed her the first one, and announced, "one."  Then the second, followed by "two."  Then "three, four, five, six."  At the seventh and last potato, he hesitated, having forgotten; seven is one of his newest number words.  Our apologies to Glenn Doman and to the Right Start Math folks, who want children to lean quantities before they learn counting, but it was his idea.  We had no idea he could do it.  Then again, maybe he knows more quantities than we think.  He loves his daddy's Dots book.

Joseph is also very good at putting the pieces in their places on the puzzle board.  I remarked that he went very quickly from the "large knob puzzles" to being able to do this much harder variety, and Janet said, "Oh, he still can't do the large knob puzzles!  He gets frustrated quickly and gives up."  Which only confirms that children will work patiently and persistently to learn what they really love! 

Oh, I suppose I should mention that he's learning the letters and numbers in three languages....  I think he's more fluent with English at this point, though really, how would I know?

Joy for a grandmother's heart, especially a grandmother whose college major was math.  :)

Joseph is SO much fun.  His two favorite toys are his wooden alphabet puzzle, and his new-for-Christmas wooden number puzzle (0 - 20, with +, -, x, {division), < (works flipped for >) and =).  He's passionate about them; first thing in the morning, and again after his nap, he goes immediately for them.  He knows all the letters, most by letter name (e.b. "bee," "ess," "tee"), some by "is for" (e.g. "cow" for C, "ha(wk)" for H.  He knows the numbers 1 - 10, 12, and 20, and sometimes gets 0 but not consistently.  Some of numbers are clear ("two, three") and some, such as seven and twenty, you have to know what he's saying, but it's consistent.  And he's very good at putting the pieces in their places on the puzzle board.  I remarked that he went very quickly from the "large knob puzzles" to being able to do this much harder version, and Janet said, "Oh, he still can't do the large knob puzzles!  He gets frustrated quickly and gives up."  But he's so obsessive about the letters and numbers that he worked persistently enough to get good at them.  One of his favorite activities is to give me a piece of paper and a pencil and ask me to write letters and numbers.

He's also a very good-natured and calm child.  We shall see how that plays out when there is another little one in the house!

If I weren't eating so well at the famous Swiss Zum Stücklin, I might be sad at missing the Outstanding in the Field event held at our favorite egg (and more) farm, Lake Meadow Naturals.  Not that I'm in the habit of spending $180/person on meals, not even in Switzerland, not even when we ate at the incomparable restaurant at Les Trois Rois in Basel.  But I'm happy for our local farm to get such national recognition.

We're stocking up on meals, pre-birth, and today made a double batch of our favorite stew.  The recipe calls for a hefty helping of paprika.  Spices should not necessarily be increased in direct proportion, but I like paprika, so I doubled the quantity—and then, as I usually do, threw in a bit more.

Some of Janet's spices are labelled in English, but most in the Swiss triumvirate of German, French, and Italian.  This jar had but a one-word label:  "paprica."  Perhaps paprika is the same in every language.

Or not.  The spice in that jar was decidedly not paprika as I have always known it.  Picture a pot of stew seasoned with a heaping tablespoon of red pepper....

The stew was delicious.  Even Joseph liked it.  (Then again, he asks for "spices" on almost everything.)  Hot pepper worked.  But it's a good lesson in taking care when cooking in another country.  What if "paprica" had actually meant "ginger"?

At this time last year I reflected on the results of my 2010 January resolution:  Read More Books.  It was an unqualified success:  In 2010 I had read 65 books of great variety:  print and audio, fiction and non-fiction, from children's lit to an 800-page survey of ancient history.  I felt quite good about it.

I'm not feeling so encouraged now.  For 2011, my total of 33 books was but half the previous year's.  Without doubt, even an avid bookworm like me needs to be vigilant and deliberate in making time for reading.

What happened?  I can think of a few factors, none negative in itself.

Instead of listening to audio books when I take my (quasi-) daily walks, I've been using the occasions for prayer, and for the introvert's essential "processing time."  There are no audio books on my 2011 reading tally.

In 2010 I spent much more time as a guest in the homes of avid readers, where other people used their free time to read books, and where my normal household activities could not distract or nag at me.

Last year my husband worked from home almost exclusively, whereas in the previous year he primarily had out-of-town, and even out-of-the-country, assignments.  I'm not saying he's an unwelcome distraction....  :)

Well, ganbarimasu!  Perhaps in 2012 I'll do better, knowing I have to work at it.  My goal is to average one book per week.

Here's the list for 2011, sorted alphabetically.  A chronological listing, with links, is here.

1. At Home by Franz Hohler  
2. Bad Science: Quacks, Hacks, and Big Pharma Flacks by Ben Goldacre  
3. The Caves of Fear: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story by John Blaine  
4. Christmas at Fairacre by Miss Read  
5. Confessions and Reflections of a Traveler by Brett R. McLean  
6. The Corpse Walker by Liao Yiwu
7. The Crime of the Century by Kingsley Amis  
8. Eats, Shoots and Leaves by Lynne Truss  
9. The Electronic Mind Reader: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story by John Blaine  
10. Ender's Shadow by Orson Scott Card  
11. The Flaming Mountain: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story by John Blaine  
12. The Flying Stingaree: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story by John Blaine
13. How to Be a High School Superstar by Cal Newport  
14. Introverts in the Church by Adam S. McHugh  
15. The Longevity Project by Howard S. Friedman and Leslie R. Martin  
16. The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King by J. R. R. Tolkien  
17. The Mother Tongue by Bill Bryson  
18. The Mystery of the Timber Giant: A Tom Quest Adventure by Fran Striker  
19. North to Freedom by Anne Holm  
20. Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell  
21. The Pirates of Shan: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story by John Blaine  
22. The Raw Milk Revolution by David E. Gumpert
23. The Rocket's Shadow: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story by John Blaine
24. Sabbath by Dan B. Allender  
25. The Scarlet Lake Mystery: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story by John Blaine  
26. Sea Gold: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story by John Blaine  
27. Secret Water by Arthur Ransome  
28. Shakespeare by Bill Bryson  
29. Tom Swift and the Visitor from Planet X by Victor Appleton II  
30. Troublesome Words by Bill Bryson  
31. Village Affairs by Miss Read
32. The Vintage Bradbury: Ray Bradbury's Own Selection of His Best Stories by Ray Bradbury  
33. The Zen of Fish by Trevor Corson

So, Orlando finally gets a Wawa!  Nowhere near us yet, but there's hope.

I'm still waiting for a Trader Joe's....

Why do Jehovah's Witnesses bring out the worst in me?  They're only doing what they think is best.

I'm not good with any form of un-asked-for solicitation, be it door-to-door, phone, e-mail, blog comment, junk mail, or any other form of spam.  I don't like being rude, but I've found that a quick, "No, thank you; I'm not interested," followed immediately by hanging up the phone or closing the door, to be the solution that wastes the least amount of time—not only mine, but theirs.  Why let them go on and on when I know I'm not going to give in to whatever they're selling?  I did know someone who would, on occasion, invite them in, and let them go on and on, thinking they were about to make a sale, until the whole evening was used up.  He figured he was saving several dozen other folks from having their evenings interrupted, and he found it somewhat amusing.  (Reality TV hadn't been invented yet.)  But that's not me.

When it comes to JWs, I also know people who will invite them in, serve them coffee, and spend the evening preaching the gospel to them.  I admire those who can do that, but it's definitely not me.

Porter, having been a door-to-door salesman himself, is much more understanding and will often take a few minutes to answer questions and ask some of his own.  He still doesn't buy anything—unless it's Girl Scouts selling cookies or Lake Brantley band members selling apples; even I am happy to welcome that kind of solicitor with a smile and a sale—and if anything has come from a discussion with a Jehovah's Witness, we won't know it till Heaven.  But at least he's friendly.

I, on the other hand, get Really. Ticked. Off.  Especially on a Saturday, when I have a thousand more pleasant things to do, like scrubbing the kitchen floor.  On my hands and knees.  With a toothbrush.  Or defrosting the freezer, which is why the garage door was open.  I opened the door from the house to find two JWs in the garage, keeping Porter from his work of replacing our kitchen light fixtures.  He was gracious, and polite, engaging them in conversation.

Me?  I panicked, turning tail immediately and skedaddling back into the house, with an inarticulate growl and an "if looks could kill" expression.

Sigh.  Do we learn humility from humiliation?  I hope so.