I have got to admit that waking up to a sloshy wet world and gray skies outside did not make me reflect on Easter this morning. Where I come from, Easter is truly a wellspring of sunshine and new life. Little girls buy summery yellow dresses and everything about bunnies hopping around and outdoors and outdoor Easter egg hunts is totally appropriate. I remember when I was a kid waking up before dawn to go downtown to watch the sunrise on the ocean. Hundreds of people came from everywhere and I remember the songs being sung about Christ being risen as I watched the sun rise over the ocean and cascade its brilliant colors everywhere. Even as a young child I could not stop myself from rejoicing. It was a big deal to me, and I loved Easter. How do you feel like that when the world outside does not reflect anything of newness of life? Even when you look at the blossoming trees and flowers they are muted by the depressing grey skies.

Well, here is my answer. Think about yesterday, literally. Yesterday truly did feel like Easter. Yesterday, we woke up to birds chirping. To a warm breeze. To  SUNSHINE!  Jedidiah looked with wonder at this strange glowing warm phenomenon called the sun.  We were truly graced and we used the opportunity to visit (in my opinion) one of the most beautiful places there is in the Eugene, Oregon area:  Mt Pisgah. 

I am not one to document beautiful nature scenery because I know full and well that when I arrive at home and look at the picture later the magic is lost, at least enough to not make the effort to take pictures too often.  Besides, I only have a big fat camera now because Jedidiah decided to take our point and shoot and stir a glass of water with it.  We intend on using our point and shoot for days such as these. Not having a small pocket point and shoot makes it difficult to take loads of photos of all of your surroundings.

But I DID take some photos of my beautiful family.  I know that I feel sorry for myself for having to suffer through the slop and drear of the northwest winter, but I praise God for the glimpses of hope that he gives us in this world, through sunny, beautiful days such as these and beautiful  places to visit.

Anyway, here are some photos of our Family.  I don't have beautiful pictures of me, mainly because my hair was frizzy and embarrassing so I left myself out of the equasion.  I want everyone to know, though that Isaiah is not a single Father.  He just happens to have a wife who loves to take photographs.  So usually I am behind the camera, and I am okay with my presence being there most of the time.

So,  Maybe I am not watching the sun rise over the ocean, but I am watching something else beautiful.

Good times.

We recently went to visit some dear friends of ours in Portland. This year they bought a very scary weird house and completely remolded it so it does not look scary and weird, but looks beautiful and warm and welcoming. I was interested in capturing the essence of the new house, and wanted to take more pictures of it but unfortunately/fortunately my camera battery died. (Fortunately because I am convinced that my friends think I am pretty weird for wanting to go and take pictures of their pots and pans and cabinets and their children's toys, and I was able to avoid the awkwardness of doing so. Although, they have been very good friends to us for over four years so hopefully they are able to look past my weirdness by now, and see me for who I really am inside.) I do have a few more photos I would have shared but there were people making unflattering faces in them, and I figure its best not to even go there. Anyway, It was unfortunate I did not get more, but I hope you can enjoy at least these few of the children. And the one of the pot.

Like his mama and his daddy.

Jack and "Dilly

An account of the Isaiah James Family's trip to the optomitrist.

This is an account of the Isaiah James family's trip to the optometrist.  (I have to clarify which James family it is so one is not confused with the many that exist in the Wisconsin and Texas regions.)

It was a magical experience.  As the Shopko doors opened for us we wandered in and were at once lured by a gallon plastic jar of cheese puff balls, on sale for five dollars. We both averted our eyes and walked toward our destination:  the optical center. This is where the two of us have been getting our eyes examined for the past three and a half (almost four) darling years, since the olden days when we were newly weds.  It was a very romantic experience as we reminisced about all the memories we have had checking our blood pressure while we were waiting for our exam.

Those thoughts were soon interrupted by that annoying machine that puffs air into your eyeball. I sat there with dread, using all the strength I had to keep my eyes open. When the annoying puff part was finally over, we were soon escorted into the exam room. There, our little boy was given a bunch of toys which enabled him to be able to put things inside of things for the next 40 minutes.  He was in heaven.  For the next twenty minutes I sat in a chair while a strange man came unnaturally close to my face (I don't think any other male beside my dear husband has gotten that close to my face in years, and I am very glad he brushed his teeth).  The man asked me over and over the same question: "Number one, or Number 2, which one can you see better?"  I sat uncomfortably fishing for the right answer. Often, I had to resolve to make something up because I couldn't tell the difference. I felt convinced that because of my shortcoming (and lies) that I would be given the wrong prescription and not be able to see properly for the next two years.  

Then I was caught:  The strange man asked me "Do you sleep in your contacts?"  I thought about it for a minute,  and I came up with at least five times in the past year that I remembered to take them out when I was sleeping. That means I don't sleep in them, right? Therefore, my answer was a resounding yes.   Yes, doctor I never sleep in my contacts, I am a good girl.  But of course my husband set the record more accurately and said "No, she always sleeps in her contacts."   I could argue my case to the doctor so he would not think less of me, but I decided that I was already defeated.  Luckily, the only repercussion was that the doctor got a little chuckle out of it and sent me on my merry way with a different prescription that is safer for sleeping in.

I was relieved, though, that my exam was cut short because they did not dilate my eyes.  This was in order to save my unborn baby from eye dilating-drop poisoning or something like that. I thought to myself:  "This is nice, I should get pregnant more often."

Anyway, a few bright lights and a few looks at the ceiling 'till you burned a hole in your retina later and I was just sitting and waiting for Isaiah to be done with his exam. When he was done, We waited outside for ever and ever while the receptionist figured out how many contacts our insurance would give us. 

Meanwhile,  Jedidiah found his dream come true:  A revolving thing that had glasses displayed all over it. That was interesting, to say the least.  We tried to distract him from dismantling the display, but he distracted himself when he found another treasure:  An old man's walker that had a horn on it.  Luckily, he was a kind jolly old man.

When it was all said and done we walked out of the building satisfied with our experience.  We didn't make it out of the building right away, though because of a major magnetic force: I saw a bag of Ruffles Bar-B Q potato chips.  I walked towards it, but got reprimanded by my husband, who said that we did not, indeed, need potato chips.  I reluctantly agreed and began to walk away only to find him suddenly cruising down the snack Aisle looking for something different to catch his eye.  We ended this circular walk around all the cheap junk when I grabbed his arm and we went out the door.  Thus ended our experience at the eye exam place.

Angry Letters

Today I wrote an angry letter.  It was amazing.  It felt good.  I loved it.  I deserved to write it. It came out fantastic.  And....unlike other angry letters, I sent it. There are times when angry letters are far better off just being a way to vent and organize your thoughts, even if that's not what your intentions are.  There have been many letters which I am very glad never made it into the mail, or the internet through the fateful click of the "send" button, least I embarrass myself or needlessly drive a wedge into a perfectly fine friendship.   This is not one of those times.  Sometimes, people just gotta know what they did. And, its about time, oh its about time they knew.

(Don't worry, anyone reading this will not be the recipient of my angry letter.)

Jedidiah expressing his love of his new bedroom.....

The victim

2/1/11

Little Jedidiah is approaching his 15 month anniversary of being alive. I suppose you can call that a birthday, but it sounded more interesting to call it a monthly anniversary of being alive.

Our little boy has still yet to take his first steps.
Maybe he has not ventured into walking so much but he is talking up a storm. In fact, this morning he laid his head on my chest and talked to me for at least five minutes without stopping. And you might think that he is slow to walk, but let me tell you he is amazing because he can speak Chinese! I don't know where he picked it up from, but apparently he sounds very much like a female character on the movie Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. (We did watch this movie when we recently went to Miami but Jed was sound asleep. Maybe he was awake with his ear to the door, trying to listen in on the movie. Who knows?) It's such a rare thing that he should rest so peacefully on me and talk that I relish every moment of it, looking him in the eye and validating his strong words with an occasional "Uh huh, I know what you mean." As a mother I feel compelled though to teach my children proper manners. Every once in a while, I reminded him that while the things he says are important, he must remember to give others a chance to talk. That's what conversation is about.

There are only a few words that have come out of his mouth in English. One of them being "Yes." Jedidiah enjoys crawling back and fourth through different rooms of the house saying "yes" over and over again. Every time you ask him any question, the answer is always "yes." But the most recent development happened recently when we were having a great fight. It was late at night, and the torture began: it was time for putting pajamas on. Jedidiah was squealing and twisting and as I, almost in tears, was trying desperately to cover his bare bottom so I could put him to bed. So, as he was twisting and turning and babbling in his gibberish Chinese words, he very loudly and clearly said "VICTIM, VICTIM!!" My son is the victim of parental cruelty at his bedtime ritual. So, ever since then I every so often ask Jed: Jed, are you the VICTIM? And he answers very confidently: "Yes!"

"Home"

There are many sights and sounds of my "Home" where I grew up, including the sound of football games, wind in palm trees, the feeling of concrete beneath my feet as I walk shamelessly down the road and around the block barefoot, the sound of the multitude of children playing in P.E. around the corner.  Also, there are the familiar habits and ways of life that the people who have been living in the home I grew up in for the past 30 years:  The sound of the iron at about 2:30 as father irons his blue shirt, the soaking of coffee mugs with two inches of hardened sugar because "someone" didn't stir it properly, the row of cheap hair conditioners on the shower window and the fact that I always look for shampoo and only find many half-empty bottles of conditioner, or now that my sister wants black hair for some reason, I find bottles of weird hair-dye stuff, that you shouldn't be using to wash your hair, and probably not to dye your hair either.  Anyway, this is the home I grew up in.  Where I took my first steps, and now my little guy (at the bottom) has had the opportunity to visit this beautiful, wonderful place I call "Home."  P.S.  My mother makes it a beautiful place, lovely to take pictures of.