Wednesday, February 16, 2011


I was awakened not by either of my children, this morning, but by the men who came to install our new heat pump.  They're super-nice guys, but they were in and out all day, and whatever machinery they used under the house sounded like a jackhammer and may well have been one.  I tried to put Clementine down for a nap three times, in two different rooms, but the poor little thing couldn't sleep for the noise.  And, unfortunately, Clementine's one of those kids who needs a nap because--without one--she just kind of loses her mind:  meaning that she turns into a mixture of Evel Knievel, Pablo Picasso (Cubism period), Pepe Le Pew, and "Six" from that old tv show Blossom

I love my little MeMe, and she lights up my life, but I promise you: after awhile, she could drive Mister Rogers to drinkin'.  That's why I call her the Wild Orange.

Today, Clementine was bound and determined to remove her own poopy diaper, ride the cat, play a Veggie Tales cd out of the Playstation, and feed Baby Charleigh Goldfish crackers.  And I clean up the main living area for small group Bible study.  I tried to count blessings so as to diffuse my frustration, but I kept losing my train of thought because of the jackhammer sound.

That's when I remembered Sarah Winchester.  You know about her, right?  In case not, the nutshell version is that Sarah Winchester's infant daughter and filthy-rich husband died of disease, and Sarah went crazy.  She became convinced that the spirits of people killed by Winchester rifles would "get her" unless she built a great big house in which they could all live together, and unless she made sure the sound of hammers never ceased.  The house ended up having 160 rooms; you can read more about it here.

Anyway, as the jackhammer sound under my house persisted, I thought to myself: no wonder Sarah Winchester's mind never recovered, what with the continuous sound of hammers in her house!

Then I thought: you know, this house, too, is nearly always filled with the sound of hammers.  Perhaps--without realizing it--I've gone plumb crazy!  And, disturbingly enough, it was much easier for me to come up with a list of suspicious thoughts and behaviors than a list of reasons to be thankful. 

#1: I found this under my tv stand, today:

#2: It actually cheered me up, a little, to find a rotten piece of fruit under my tv stand because it made me think of those old-lady faces carved out of apples, and I thought: oh, the kids and I should make apple dolls this summer!  In case you're interested in this folk art, you can learn more about it here.

#3: I feel more at home at the Metro Richmond Zoo than I do at home.  (There are no hammer sounds, there.)

#4: I have been spending a great deal of time defending and supporting a frenemy, lately.  And I don't really have plans to stop.

#5: Meanwhile, there's this other person?  I met him one time (as in, exchanged hellos, only), and I'm 100% convinced he's a psycho killer.  I can't stop thinking about it, but I'm afraid to talk about it.  Because he might kill me.

#6: For the past three nights, every single time (of the many times) Baby Charleigh has awakened me, I've had "It Is Well with My Soul" in my head.  Usually, Paul is singing it, but--every now and then--Bob is singing it.  And he has an angel choir to back him up.

#7: I'm fairly convinced that three people are angry with me, and I can't figure out why.

#8: Very often, I pray for people (sometimes even out loud, in my minivan!), but when I run into them at Wal-Mart or wherever, I totally space on their issues.  Then I come home and think: crap!  How could I have forgotten to ask about ___?

There are more; I've just forgotten what I remembered, earlier.  I'm very tired.  And happy day!  Baby Charleigh seems to be tired, too:

So tell me: do you think I'm crazy???


  1. No! Just a very busy mommie of little ones. :)

  2. You are not crazy. Period. Get over yourself.

  3. You sweet sweet funny girl... you are not crazy :)