The Sound of Silence

A week or two ago (before I completely lost all track of reality and time when my family came to visit) we had our pastor and his family over for dinner. Their kids are really sweet, and close to our kids in age, so that was a nice interesting mix of entertainment and stress.

The two older kids liked holding Baby Gabe. Elise, the eldest, is really good with younger kids. I wonder if I could get her two adopt two or three of mine . . . ?

Oh, wait, she's too young.

Here's Ben holding Baby Gabe, too. He's on the right track, since a guy who can look comfortable holding a baby is a chick-magnate. He'll be one to watch out for in highschool!

Not only are the kids fun, the parents are amazing.
Saints.

Kari should be put on the penny right next to Abe Lincoln.

Why? Because, for no sensible reason I can fathom, she forced me to let her have my kids for an entire day. A whole day.

Look. No kids.

None here, either.

Or here. Ignore the mess. And the dragon on the counter. Dragons regularly come to my house to eat and make light conversation. And stop staring at the dirt on my floor. I put it there on purpose so that you wouldn't think I'm trying to out-do Martha Stewart.

After the children left for their fun day with Ms. Kari, I stared around my quiet house in a state of mild shock.

Have you ever heard the silence that comes right before a tornado? I felt a bit like that. My ears were ringing.

And then I got to work sewing. Want to see what I sewed?

Ha! You're going to have to wait, because I just realized that I have to leave for a wedding soon, and my teeth are unbrushed and I haven't taken a shower and I don't want to scare the bride and groom out of their wits with my hag-like appearance. That'd be an unlucky thing on their wedding day, I think.

Also, I'm playing the violin for their wedding, and I can't stand the idea of being on the platform in full view of everyone without a full armor of makeup, perfume, and clean armpits.