Lift Up Your Hearts!

Jonathan has several pictures of Louis Comfort Tiffany stained glass windows that he likes to look at, so we were excited to give him the opportunity to see the real windows at the Charles Hosmer Morse Museum of American Art in nearby Winter Park. Much to our disappointment, many of his favorites were unavailable, being prepared for a special exhibition in New York. So he was unable to see Girl Picking Gourds, one of his favorites, and see the transformation of Butterfly Window between transmitted and reflected light at the push of a button. However, not all of "his" windows were missing, and his eyes lit up when he encountered Young Woman at a Fountain. He delighted, also, in "Tombment!" (The Entombment) particularly since that exhibit featured several studies leading up to the finished window. (More)

One of the joys I remember from Heather and Janet’s childhood is hearing them quote back and forth to each other sections of dialogue from plays and movies, from The Pirates of Penzance to Henry V. Jonathan has started already. No, he’s not quite ready for Gilbert and Sullivan, let alone Shakespeare, but his conversations are replete with quotations from his favorite books, particularly Dr. Seuss. “no, Pat, no sit on that!” “hop on pop, stop!” (Hop on Pop), “in a box, wif a fox” (Green Eggs and Ham), “boom, boom Mister Brown makes thunder”) (Mr. Brown Can Moo, Can You?), “bread and milk and blackberries for supper” (Peter Rabbit), and many others I can’t identify. Since coming to Florida he has increased his repertoire, having discovered The Cat in the Hat on our bookshelves. That is his favorite story request now, and we are already hearing “up, up, up, fish!” “look at me, look at me now,” "have to know how," and more.

Yesterday we also went to the neighborhood playground, Heather and I walking, and Jonathan sometimes pulling, mostly riding in, the little red wagon which had last seen service on Independence Day as the water wagon for the Greater Geneva Grande Award Marching Band. (More)

The pool continues to be a big draw here, with Jonathan swimming as much and as often as he can convince someone to swim with him. Ah, the delight in having time and opportunity to observe the learning process! Since the YMCA has regrettably abandonned the wonderful Infant Swim and Gym program that we enjoyed, Jonathan is not as competent in the water as his mother and aunt were at 22 months of age. But he is taking full advantage of this opportunity to narrow that gap. (More)

Jon has graciously lent us Heather and Jonathan for a week! They arrived yesterday. I met them as they were descending the escalator; Jonathan saw me and shouted, “Grandma!” quickly followed by “Dad-o?” We reassured him that he would see Dad-o after we drove home. On the way he announced, “Aunt Jan't 'Pan!” He knows we’re associated with Aunt Janet, but he can’t see her this trip because she’s in Japan. (More)

One of Janet's classes was discussing the causative have, such as "I had my hair cut" and "I had my bike stolen." She noted that the latter can make it sound as if the person caused his bike to be stolen, though that is not the way it is normally used. That set me thinking. To me,

I'm glad I learned English as a child, when accepting such subtleties was still easy! Any comments, grammar experts? (More)

It began when I said to Porter, "I'm riding to the post office; do you want to join me?"

The post office is less than two miles from home, so as part of our effort to make our gasoline supply last as long as possible, I had decided to go by bicycle to mail an important package. Porter was happy to come, but suggested we continue on and see how far we could get on the nearby bike trail. Bear in mind that our bicycles had seen but little use for a long time. Intrepid or foolish, we filled our water bottles, figured out how to work our new helmets, and took off.

For those to whom this has meaning: we crossed over the I-4 bridge! And went a bit further, to one of our churches, then turned toward home. I'd like to tell you how exhausted I was when I finally glided into our driveway, and how every muscle in my legs was throbbing...but Janet climbed Mt. Fuji this weekend and I'm sure after I read her report I'll feel a little silly...and a lot wimpy.

It was a lot of fun, though.

It was a triathlon, in an out of shape, over 50 sort of way.

We still haven't been able to fill up the cars since the gas panic Wednesday night. Not that we tried very hard, but the one station we pulled into on our way home from choir rehearsal Thursday night was out of gas. (It's not that our choir meets two nights per week; we sing with two churches.) So instead of driving to the park for our thrice-weekly run, on Friday we rode our bicycles.

1. Ride to the park.
2. Run (or walk/run in my case)
3. Ride home.
4. Jump in the pool.

Works for me. (More)

The terrifying power of panic to disrupt and destroy was best illustrated this week in Iraq, where the stampede provoked by rumor of a suicide bomber killed and injured innocent people in numbers exceeding the wildest expectations of any individual with a bomb in his backpack.

As a far-off planet reflects the fiery sun, panic made its power known here on Wednesday, also. Driving to choir rehearsal on Wednesday night, we could have filled our gas tank easily at any of a number of stations along the way, for the price of $2.69/gallon. On the way home it was a different story. While we had been happily singing, word began to spread that Florida was running out of gasoline. The Orange County School District cancelled all non-essential bus service (sports, field trips) and announced that even with the cutbacks parents might have to begin driving their children to school in another week. This was enough to convince half of Central Florida that they needed to buy gasoline, NOW. Those calm, quiet gas stations we had passed earlier in the evening now had lines of waiting cars that stretched for blocks, and police officers on site to keep order. Prices had jumped at least 10 cents per gallon. A few stations had no lines—because they had run out of fuel.

We chose not to join the snaking lines, trusting that our 3/4 full gas tank would see us through until the situation stabilized. During hurricane season, the recommendation is that you don't let your gas tank get below half full. Maybe that's a good idea year 'round, because it wasn't Florida's disaster that caused this shortage.

Even before Hurricane Katrina, when we were paying around $2.55 for a gallon of gasoline, the adjustments made necessary by the increased price fueled many a news story. From the tone of the reports, one would think we were in a crisis of terrible proportions, but their content was encouraging. People now had to think twice, it was said, before making a trip by car. They were combinging trips, carpooling, using public transportation, walking, and riding bikes. All of which looks like good news to me.

News reporters, it seems, are most enthusiastic when reporting bad news, and love to expand problems into disasters. I don't believe you can call our fuel problems a crisis, even post-Katrina, any more than I believe we have an obesity crisis, although most Americans are undeniably overfed and underexercised.

Nonetheless, I will use the media's terms and make the encouraging prediction that if we don't interfere with the process too much, the energy crisis may go a long way toward curing the obesity crisis.

If you have contacts in the Mississippi area, please check out this friend's plea for locating missing relatives.

Pressure is increasing on schools to remove that nutritional disaster called soda from their vending machines and replace it with healthy fare like water, juice, and milk. In response, the soft drink manufacturers, not to be caught with their profits down, have succeeded in spinning milk into soda. Take a delicious bottle of milk, add sugar, artificial flavor, and sometimes even carbonation, give it a name like Milky Way, Starburst, or Bubble Blast, and voila! — a drink no calf would recognize. (More)

By this time last year we had already experienced our first major hurricane, Charley, but Frances, Jeanne, and Ivan were September storms. Now we are not even into September, and we are up to K in named storms, with Tropical Depression 13 forming in the Atlantic.

Unless she takes an unexpected turn, the bull's eye of Katrina's target is New Orleans, but even far-away Pittsburgh is preparing for trouble, fearing heavy rains will cause flooding and trouble for the area's dams. Last year the remnants of Ivan made quite a mess of Western Pennsylvania. Our friends in Ohio and Indiana may be in for some rough weather, too. But it's New Orleans that needs our prayers most at the moment.

In England, Darren and Debbie Wyatt are fighting in court to save the life of their 22-month old daughter, Charlotte, who is severely handicapped. Charlotte is no Terri Schiavo, with her parents and her legal husband in disagreement over her medical care. The Wyatts' battle is with England's medical and legal system, with doctors who insist Charolotte has no "quality of life," and a court ruling giving the doctors authority, against her parents' wishes, to refuse to resuscitate Charlotte if she stops breathing. (More)

We awoke to our first hurricane warning of the season: Hurricane Katrina is heading towards South Florida, but that doesn't mean we're in the clear. It doesn't look like anything we need to worry about, but it's worth noting. I observe that the first hurricane warning comes one letter of the alphabet further than the last hurricane warning of last season.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, Typhoon Mawar is aimed straight at Janet, and it's a lot stronger than Katrina. I'm trusting the mountains will remove some of its fury before it reaches Kofu. Classes have been cancelled for the first two periods tomorrow, although the teachers still have to come to school.