Archive for September, 2007

Sunday Post

little church on the road

“The meaning of prayer is that we get hold of God, not of the answer.” — Oswald Chambers

Psalm 46:10


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Well, it’s happened again. Remember this, about how having LG in this particular Grrl Scawt troop makes me feel like I’m in the parenting twilight zone? Yea, still there. The details of transportation for all the scawts were discussed ad nauseum at the unofficial cookie meeting, a couple of weeks ago. Since LG and Roxy, the leader’s daughter, are on the same bus route, it was agreed that LG will just get off the bus at Roxy’s house (where the meeting is), about 1/2 mile away from our house. Emails have circulated since that time, all confirming how each scawt will get there, and each one had LG riding the bus home with Roxy.

So, first, it’s a miracle I even bothered to check. But I did. After LG had left for school, after I had given her instructions about what to do (go to Roxy’s house) and advised her that I did not plan on being home this afternoon, and just before I went out for the day.

What the hell? The (titular) leader completely changed the plans, giving me and my child no notice whatsoever, and apparently with no plans for giving that notice, other than her child telling my child what to do after school. And that “what to do” included getting off the bus at an empty house, and walking alone to the meeting, without my knowing any of that was happening. Am I in the freakin’ twilight zone? Am I lost in the ’50s (even though I wasn’t born in the ’50s)? I INSIST upon knowing where my 11-year-old is! And on being the one to decide when and under what circumstances she walks somewhere alone!

Here it is:

From: Susie Fairchild whatwasit@comcast.net
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To: Iminna Fogg i.fogg@gmail.com
Subject: GS Meeting today
Date: Thursday, September 27, 2007 8:53:50 AM

Hi, Iminna,
Just confirming, LG will get off the bus with Roxy today, right?



From: Iminna Fogg i.fogg@gmail.com
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To: Susie Fairchild whatwasit@comcast.net
Subject: RE: GS Meeting today
Date: Thursday, September 27, 2007 9:13:50 AM

Well, that was the plan. However, Roxy decided that she did not want to miss rock climbing after school, and will not be riding the bus home. I asked her to tell LG to go ahead and get off the bus at her own stop, and walk to our house. However, I’m not sure if LG will be comfortable walking to the meeting alone. So, don’t be surprised if she comes home first! If she does come home, would you like Amy to pick her up?

Sorry about the mix up. Children don’t always go along with our plans.



From: Susie Fairchild whatwasit@comcast.net
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To: Iminna Fogg i.fogg@gmail.com
Subject: RE: RE: GS Meeting today
Date: Thursday, September 27, 2007 9:30:50 AM

OK. Gee, I’m glad I asked! I had arranged to be at work this afternoon, expecting that LG was going home with Roxy. I’ll call school and get a message to LG to come home, I’ll arrange to be here, and I’ll bring her to the meeting. Thanks.


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“How was your work tonight?”

“Not good. I feel terrible. And my family won’t stop farting.”

“We’re not farting.”

“No, not you guys. My client family at work.”

“They . . . just fart? Do they apologize or . . . ”

“They laugh. They all fart and laugh.”

“Do you laugh?”

“No. I’m not amused. They say they want the kids to be well-behaved. Going in someone’s office and farting and laughing . . . I don’t call that good behavior.”

“Have you told them to stop?”


“Well, you have to. It’s part of your job, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I know. It’s just that there’s so much other stuff going on, that we need to work on. And I’ve never had to confront an entire family about farting before. I’m not sure how to make people stop farting. I haven’t studied “fart cessation therapy” or “flatulence management.” How about you come in with me as a guest consultant, and you tell them?”

“You’re asking for my help at work?”

“Yea. I’m not in the mood. And I’m not sure how to bring up the subject . . . ”

“I would recommend throwing something at the next one who farts.”

“Yea. That’s what I’ll do.”

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Sunday Post

gateway in Jamestown

“Ultimately we know deeply that the other side of every fear is a freedom.” — Marilyn Ferguson

Isaiah 41:13

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Pirate Biscuit
An encore photo presentation, in honor of “Talk Like a Pirate” Day

When I went to pick up LG from the Girl Scout meeting at a house in the neighborhood, I was mightily impressed by the family mutt there in the doorway. She lay right in front of the open door, facing out, as tweens ran and walked and zipped all around her. She “said” nothing, and barely moved, just occasionally cocked her head to one side, then the other, in a most adorable fashion. While marvelling at this dog’s composure, I thought of my own Very Bad Dog back home. If this had been at our house? Puh-leese. He would have been scratching and sniffing, barking and licking, head-butting and butt-heading, bouncing and pouncing. I wanted the Mom at this house to come over and Super Nanny the VBD for us. Now this, this is the kind of dog we needed.

While the Mom of the house and I chatted on the porch, waiting for the girls to get their cookie sales stuff in order, I said, “That is absolutely the most well-behaved dog I have ever seen.”

“Oh, thank you,” said the Mom of the house. “She’s blind and deaf.”

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Sunday Post

Karin' Barber Shop and Quality Meats

“The things Jesus did were of the most menial and commonplace order, and this is an indication that it takes all God’s power in me to do the most commonplace things in His way. Can I use a towel as He did? Towels and dishes and sandals, all the ordinary sordid things of our lives, reveal more quickly than anything what we are made of.” — Oswald Chambers

Colossians 3:23

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An exchange with Nils on the previous post reminded me of an amusing parenting gaff from LG’s preschool years. We always used “proper” names for body parts, rather than euphemisms, with her. She could identify her own parts, nose to toes, and those parts that were other than her own, on illustrations of little naked boys in her toddler sex ed books (yes, they exist; I got ours at the Christian bookstore).

One day when she was four, she was on the floor playing with her dolls, I was scurrying around trying to get us on the road to somewhere or other, and the TV was on. There was a ubiquitous movie ad that came on, for “What Women Want,” with Mel Gibson and Helen Hunt. Mel could read women’s minds, somehow. In the clip shown, Mel asks Helen, “Did you just look at my crotch?”

While LG had learned the terms for specific body parts, we’d never had occasion to teach her the more generic “crotch.” It had never come up. So hearing this on TV, she tilts her adorable preschooler head quizzically and says, “What did he say? What was that lady looking at, of his?”

I don’t know why I didn’t just tell her. It was no big deal. But I was rushing around, and it didn’t come to me instantly how to concisely explain that “crotch” can refer to both genders, both as a region of the body, or as an area on an article of clothing, blah blah. So I lied. I said, “I think he said she was looking at his . . . watch.”

LG continued arranging her dollies on the floor and said, “Hmm. That’s funny, I thought she was looking at his penis.”

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