Clearly, I have avoidance issues.

So many really important things were NOT getting done while I was putting this little gem together. But it was fun. Enjoy. And Merry Christmas from the Byrds.

http://elfyourself.jibjab.com/view/lDx9tZsxMl3kaVAg?cmpid=ey_fb_self

Monday Night Live

So today when the kids and I got home from school, Caroline wanted to tell Tony which instrument she has chosen to play in the 6th grade band . . .

Caroline: Okay, Dad, guess what instrument I'm playing.

Tony: Flute.

Caroline: Nope. Guess again.

Gillian: Drums.

Caroline: (ignoring Gillian) C'mon. Guess, Daddy.

Tony: Tuba!

Caroline: Da-aaad!

Gillian: Trumpet.

Caroline: (still ignoring Gillian) Guess again, Dad.

Gillian: Cowbell.


I don't think she's actually seen that episode of SNL . . . but still. The child cracks us up regularly. And what's even funnier is that Caroline's instrument of choice is . . .

Percussion.

Family Fun

Recently, our little flock went on a simple family outing. I had voted for the pool, but the kids were begging for bowling, and Tony sweetened the pot by merely waving free ice cream coupons from Cold Stone Creamery in my general direction. I was hooked, and we headed off to a nearby bowling alley. We really had a great time together, cheering one another on, bowling badly, and randomly dancing to the tunes being played throughout the lanes. We noticed, in fact, that lots of bowlers seemed to be inspired to get their grooves on. Why does it seem that dancing and recreational bowling go hand-in-hand? People are often shuffling, hustling, and two-stepping their way toward the lane, ball in hand, or back to their seats after a particularly successful frame. Just adds to the overall people-watching entertainment, as far as I'm concerned.

Here are a few shots from the evening, which ended, as I mentioned, with icy-smooth happiness from Cold Stone. Banana with graham cracker crust mixed in for me. Good stuff, honeys.

Creativity

I've just been checking out my friend Tina's website, where she sells beautiful handmade jewelry. She's also a great writer and has made a living doing that, too. It made me ponder my own creative pursuits. I think creative people use their gifts in so many different ways, always finding outlets for expression. They often come in handy for practical things, like entertaining kids on a rainy day, or enhancing a lesson at school, or teaching kids' church.

But taking time to create purely for the sake of enjoyment, personal satisfaction . . . that is something completely different. And to then find a way to make a living doing it? Creative bliss.

I've been dipping into my own well of creativity lately. Wrote a short story the other night for the first time in forever. And just now I remembered the watercolor paintings I have in the top of my closet. Paintings I did when a couple friends and I took a class eons ago. Watercolor, as it turns out, is not easy. I'm sure that's true of other media, too, but I've never tried those. In that same closet resides my scrapbooking graveyard. I have quite a bit of memory-making paraphernalia in there, including a couple of unfinished scrapbooks. I don't know if they'll ever get done. Not because I don't want to finish them, because I really do. But the age-old reality that there aren't enough hours in the day hasn't changed, and I tend to prefer to use my downtime doing other things I love. Like writing. If you read my blog with any regularity, it should be obvious that I've had quite a bit of said down time in the last couple of days. But the itch to write things other than blog posts has become quite strong.

Maybe someday I'll have the guts to post something I've written during some creative burst. Something that doesn't include photos of my kids or a report on recent family happenings. But that won't be easy, because there seems to be so much personal risk involved. If you're a writer of anything other than the blog variety, I'm sure you understand.

For now, though, I'll venture out on a limb far enough to post one of the paintings I did all those years ago for watercolor class. It's not something I came up with in my own mind and then made it magically appear on a blank page. I think you have to be pretty good to do that. No, I copied it from an existing work, in the same way an artist paints a still life by looking at a bowl of fruit and copying what he sees onto the canvas. It's easy for me to include, because I'm not emotionally attached to it the way I am to a piece of fiction or poetry I might write.

If I were posting one of those, launching my precious words into cyberspace for all to read, my hand would indeed be trembling as I click "publish post".

Sisters and Cousins

Last week, while Tony was in Honduras on a missions trip, my sister Vanessa and her four kids came to visit. Seven kids + two adults = new appreciation for my grandparents. The Conns had twelve children. Twelve. That's five more than the seven we had last week, for those of you who are counting, and I thought of this several times while my family was here. We had a wonderful time together, and I'm so thankful they were able to be here with us. Below are the highlights:

On Sunday we all piled up in two cars and headed to Zephyrhills to watch Caroline play with the Land O' Lakes Minor A Fastpitch Softball All-Star team in the district tournament. Here she is at her usual third base field position.

And below are four of her adoring fans. L to R: Loren (Caroline's lifetime BFF), cousin Will, Ellis, cousin Graham.

That night we went to the pool and the playground, and both were a huge hit with all the kiddies. Even Aunt Vanessa got in on the fun.

There was a lot of "monkeying around" on that playground, as you can see. Post-swimming hands and feet seem to stick really well to the fat poles that support the canopy over the playground. This was a happy discovery.

Monday was a lazy, pajama day, and the big kids had great fun playing Wii sports and Guitar Hero. Gillian and Ella played little girl stuff, and Lia meandered among all of them, just being cute. We hit the pool briefly that evening, then watched rented movies, one for the kids and another for Vanessa and me. Our big plans for a day at the pool on Tuesday were completely wiped out by pouring rain, thunder and lightning. Ya know, that's why we have things like weather reports, but those are useless if you don't actually read or watch them. So, to combat cabin fever (not sure if it was the kids' cabin fever or mine and Vanessa's), we headed to a nearby indoor family fun place. When sunshine is unavailable for days at a time, money must inevitably be spent for the sake of sanity.

Dance Dance Revolution. For the kids, rather intense, judging by the looks on their faces.

For Vanessa and me, on the other hand, a better word might be "pathetic".

Here's the whole gang outside, just before we made a mad dash to the cars in the pouring rain. We got soaked, of course.

Back to Casa Byrd for dinner and another evening of movie watching.

The Hammonds headed out the next day. What a great visit we all had! I wish I lived closer to all of my family, but I surely am thankful for the opportunities we have to get together. Tony and I have lived in Florida, far away from either of our families, since we got married. That's been fifteen years. I learned a long time ago that family time won't ever just happen on its own. It requires effort. I supposed it's not unlike family time among those who live much nearer one another, but the amount of effort is far greater, and the actual opportunities are fewer. Dinner at the parents' house is a little easier to get on the schedule than a visit to a branch of the family hundreds of miles away. I so get that. And I appreciate every time any part of our two families come from afar to visit.

And speaking of a good book . . .

If you've seen the movie trailer for The Time Traveler's Wife, and you think you might want to go see it when it is released on August 14th, I encourage you to do so. I already have plans to see it myself, providing that Mona can hold out and wait until I return from Georgia.

But, dear readers . . . I implore you, beseech you, even beg you . . . Read the book first.

Please. You must. It's on my top-five-of-all-time list, and there is NO WAY the movie will be able to adequately do it justice. I was fascinated by this book. Riveted. Amazed by Audrey Niffenegger's ability to maintain a completely believable telling of a human love story within the context of a totally unbelievable set of circumstances.

I'd include a link to the movie website, but I'd rather direct you to a synopsis of the book itself. Click on the image . . .

Book Review

Just finished reading a good book. Its title, as a matter of fact, is People of the Book. It wasn't one that had been recommended to me by a friend, or of which I had read a review, or even that I saw on any eye-catching display at a bookstore. I picked it up at our school's book fair last fall because it looked pretty and the dustjacket description sounded interesting. I'd never heard of the author, Geraldine Brooks, even though she's won a Pulitzer Prize. So, it was a gamble. I generally don't like gambling too much on book selections, because I feel I've wasted so much time if I end up with something I don't like, and I'm not usually one to simply abandon a book I've begun reading. (I'm the same way with movies, but they're shorter, so the most I lose on a dud is a couple of hours.)

Early in the book, I wasn't sure I was going to like it. The writing is great, of course (Pulitzer Prize winner. Hello.), but there was something about the main character I didn't like, and I wondered if it would keep me from really engaging. But I continued, and I'm glad I did, because it turned out to be a great read. It does make me wonder, though, how much my ability to like the main character affects my overall feelings about the book. That seems a little sub-intellectual of me, perhaps. Not only that, I think I was uncertain whether I could like her because of my judgment of her. Really. I was judging her. And that's a little weird, because my feelings about the lifestyles of real people don't have much bearing on whether or not I like them, gravitate toward them, enjoy being around them, etc. Either I do or I don't. But I do not (or at least I certainly try not to) judge them. I might have strong opinions about things they do or don't do, but those opinions generally don't morph into some kind of self-righteous assessment of character (because God and I have come a long way in that department) and they aren't the things that weigh in most heavily when my feelings of like or dislike are forming.

Aaaanyway, the deal is (and you'll have to forgive this tiny little spoiler) the main character, Hanna, sleeps with a guy after having just met him that day, and the way that came about in the story just didn't ring true for me. I found myself rolling my eyes . . . oh, puh-leeeease . . . and wondering if this kind of thing was going to be a major part of the book. I do realize, dear readers, that the reason it didn't "ring true" may be the fact that I am admittedly somewhat of a prude, and this very real world of near-instantaneous hook-ups and one-night stands is completely foreign to me. Always has been. Seriously, y'all. Tony and I fell in love, then we got married, and then he became Captain Kirk . . . "to boldly go . . .". You get the picture.

I suppose it wasn't really the character I was having a problem with. Truthfully, I guess it was the author. She, after all, is the one who created Hanna and everything about her. I think I was dreading the possibility that gratuitous sex was going to be a feature of her writing. Thankfully, that first scene wasn't explicit. I mean, I'm a married woman and all, but I don't care to read too many vivid details of other folks', um, activites, ya know? There were several other places in the book where this particular content played a key role, but to Ms. Brooks' credit, it was all totally in keeping with the story. Sexuality is a central theme of human existence, right? Even, sadly, the abuses and exploitations of it.

Now, look. Here I've gone on and on, subjecting you to what is really my own analysis of my feelings about parts of this book, and now I've made it seem like the whole thing is about sex. Hmph. So NOT the case. The novel is actually a wonderfully written history of, well, a book. The characters are rich and varied, and one must marvel at the attention given to the myriad details of the different world cultures during a broad range of historical time periods. It is true historical fiction, and the research it must have required to accurately and convincingly portray these imagined people and events is staggering. Hats off to G.B.

Click here to read a brief synopsis from the author's website.