And some pictures of life . . .

Life, One Way or Another

It's been hard to write on here lately. The details of daily life seem inconsequential when there are still so many big questions hanging open; and with the big questions hanging open, there seems little to say. Or perhaps it's that I feel unjustified in talking about our life until we are really getting on with it.

It's easy to feel outside the proper scope of grownup human existence without the usual trappings of a job and a house to talk about. It's easy to doubt the decisions we've made and hard to continue talking about our goals when the only definite thing to say is: not there yet. Still trying.

Indeed, I've noticed in myself a tendency to hold back even in thankfulness for things that happen: unwilling to be thankful for the blossom until I've seen the fruit full ripe. After all, some of those blossoms will never bear fruit. A late freeze might kill them all.

But now is our life. Spring is something to be grateful for whether or not autumn ever comes. If it does come (as it nearly always does), then what will be the good of having wasted spring with doubts and regrets? And if it doesn't, then why not have enjoyed spring while it lasted?

The other night I was talking with DOB and asked if we had bitten off more than we could chew. And then we started laughing, because the image that now brings to our minds is D4 trying to eat pancakes: Cramming an entire pancake in at once so that half of it is still hanging out, stretching out his empty, cinnamon-smeared hands to show that he's ready for more.

Yeah, maybe we have. Maybe trying to start over at this age and weakness with this many kids was crazy. But we've done crazy things before, and we'll do them again. Somehow D4 manages to get those monstrous wads of pancake down, and somehow we'll find a way to make this work, or the next thing work, or the thing after that. And then we'll probably try something else new and crazy.

If I'm waiting for life to settle down and everything to make sense before I enjoy it or write about it, I'm going to be waiting an awfully long time.

Feeding Frenzy

Her Majesty, observing the twins struggling to chew steak: Maybe next time I'll just fix a hot dog for the babies.
D4: Hot dog! Babies! Hot dog! Babies! Hot dog! Babies!
QOC: Actually, I'm thinking maybe *this* time you'd better fix a hot dog for the babies.

Blue Skies

I see from Facebook posts that it's been in the 60s in Ohio and everyone is enjoying heading back outside again. It's spring here, too (though not quite that warm), and I almost feel like I haven't earned it yet; we never got stuck inside at all. We had two sets of snow flurries all winter, neither of which stuck. Tuesday we went over to the farm and helped plant peas. (Well, I planted peas, D2 carried the dish of peas around for awhile, D1 poked random tools at random weeds, D4 drove his toy car up and down the rows, and D3 wanted to be picked up.)

We didn't do anything for St. Patrick's day, except tell the story (captured by pirates is good!) of St. Patrick. We did, however, celebrate Dr. Seuss's birthday with a party hosted by Wondergirl. I was insufficiently prepared for the crazy hat contest (D3 wore a stack of hats in honor of Bartholomew Cubbins), but squeaked out a narrow victory in the *Fox in Socks* reading contest. We came home with a large stock of leftover playdough in garish colors, which has been keeping the kids well occupied all week.

Seven Quick Takes Friday

From Conversion Diary.

Consisting mostly of duckling sayings, since I don't seem to have much to say lately.

D1: When I grow up, I want to be a person who does *everything.*
QOC: I wouldn't put it past you.

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D2: So I can count up to 199!
QOC: What comes after 199?
D2: I think . . . a billion!
(Guess I should have said, "What natural number is next in sequence after 199?")

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D2 has started really reading, and walks about with stacks of "Dr. Seuss books" (P.D. Eastman also represented.) However, he seldom actually reads a book through. He reads them backwards. He reads a couple pages and picks another book. He reads off all the titles of a stack of books.

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D1: "Now we'll both bow our heads, and then you can read the prayer." D2 (bowing his head, and flipping through the book on his lap, which happens to be *Mr. Brown Can Moo*): "But this is a *silly* book!"

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D1 has finished all of her AWANA book, except for the one section where she has to demonstrate obedience in four different areas on five different days. One of the areas listed is, "I came right away when I was called for meals." So as I was setting up lunch yesterday, she stood at the table, pen and book ready, asking, "When are you going to remember to call us?"

After that she just went through and marked all the "came when called for food" squares ahead of time. Which is just as well, since I'm not sure we ever call her to eat--she's in the kitchen ten minutes in advance, asking when it's going to be ready.

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D3 is obsessed with wearing Her Majesty's knit hats, even though they come down over her eyes and make her look like a perambulating mushroom in pink snow boots. D4 has hit the lining-everything-up stage and thus embarked on a probably-lifelong quest to take over D2's cars anytime they are left within reach.

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And a brief note on the rest of us, who do not say or do cute, repeatable things. DOB gets his bar results back at the beginning of May and is hanging out around the courthouse a lot until then. I'm trying to line up some free-lance research work.

The Suffering Masses

Not too surprisingly, we were greeted upon our return by a wave of sickness. (Unsurprising because of Murphy's law and the stresses of life, not because of any failing on the part of those watching the children.) They had all had slight colds when we left and managed to sustain that until we returned, then promptly developed more exciting symptoms such as excruciating earaches.

D2 has, unfortunately for him, inherited DOB's pain intolerance, which is not so much a physical sensitivity as a compulsion to project this moment's pain forward into the unforeseeable future. More unfortunately, he doesn't sleep his misery off like DOB does; he mopes around the house whining and feeling bored and frustrated, like me. We tried ibuprofen for awhile which helped his earache, but then he developed a headache that resisted everything. In desperation I finally relaxed my rules on screen time for young children a very long way.

For D3, on the other hand, sickness brings out usually hidden powers of stubbornness. Saturday night, presumably because of a sore throat, she decided not to drink any more. Unfortunately, she was already too dehydrated to sleep. This set off hours of misery for all concerned, as she refused to be coerced, cajoled, or tricked into consuming any fluids, though we plied her with chocolate and saltine crackers. She would drop off to sleep and then wake up crying a few minutes later, but . . . "No! No! No! No! No water! No milk! No juice!" Lacking an eyedropper, we finally discovered we could use the classic trick with a finger over the end of a straw to deposit small enough quantities at a time that she would swallow it before she remembered to object. Once she had enough down her, she voluntarily drank the rest, then dropped off to sleep and, with brief intervals for eating a bite or two and sitting in someone's lap, has slept pretty much since then. She seems a little more cheerful and plays a little longer each time she wakes up.

D4, meanwhile, does not know what sickness means. OK, so there may be rivers of green snot running down his face, but hey! Cars! Outside! More cars! Oh wait, his head is falling over while he drives . . . must be time to put him to bed.

D1 pleaded a sore throat when she awoke this morning, but she seems to not have found it worth pursuing. Her energy is mostly annoying to the rest of us.

DOB and I think we are well, but haven't yet caught up on sleep enough to verify it.

It Is Over

And I am tired, which seems silly because all I did was hang around the hotel for three days. DOB is tired, too, for the record. He seems to have enjoyed it.

The kids are all still here and intact. We brought the older two the wristwatches DOB had purchased for timing while taking the bar. D2 immediately was going around announcing, "Hey! It's 37 o'clock!" Once they got minutes and hours straight, they found it very frustrating that time moved so slowly.

In My Spare Time

I'm trying to find the best way to track the whole variety of resources I use with the ducklings, both for my own benefit (after all, in four years I'll be teaching another class this age) and for general use.

I've found it hard to track down lists of really good books with geographic themes aimed at the younger age group. So I'm starting to track them, along with websites and project ideas, on Squidoo. We'll see how it works, but here is my first try: Around the World in 80 Books. (I hope no one will think that title is deceptive, when I've only got eleven up so far, but I haven't even started on any specific continents yet--by the time I create a lens for each continent, I should have plenty.)

Oh, and if you like it, I'd love to get feedback, links, or ratings! (If you don't like it, I won't be so thrilled.)

Bar Prep

It's all bar, all the time around here, but the only parties are those to the lawsuit, plus of course those insidious Third Parties that are always confusing matters. (I hardly ever even get invited to the First Party, let alone the second and third.) When LD takes breaks from typing up outlines and essays, he watches crime shows and courtroom dramas, where we pause to analyze whether the evidence is really admissible and what steps in laying a foundation were skipped for the sake of the movie audience. It's more fun than it sounds.

My role is keeping the kids quiet, which usually means far, far away. We've spent a lot of time over at the farm, basking in sunshine, getting beds ready in the greenhouse and garden, and thinking fondly of our friends in Ohio buried in a couple of feet of snow. We tried visiting playgrounds on Sunday, but they were all closed for the season--then we tried sneaking into one and discovered the reason was that they were underwater. So instead we went to a forest, where DOB had gotten lost the week before, but fortunately D4 has a better sense of direction than all the rest of us combined, and he got us back to the car safely: "Rar! Way!"

When everyone is settled down for naps, I've been trying to outline some subjects to speed things along, handle all the auxiliary details like packing, and plan foods that can be cooked in a crockpot in a hotel. The whole undertaking seems far more involved than when I took the bar exams--or DOB took his last--but then, we didn't have kids back then. I know from my first exam experience, when my aunt and uncle fed me, drove me, and stocked me with game boys, that having support staff makes the whole exam much easier.

Reviewing this stuff reminds me of how much of the general law I still remember, and how much of the specifics I've forgotten. The Washington Bar is considering a rule change that will mean I don't have to retake the exam to reactivate my license; I'm going to wait to see how that comes out before I apply.

But that's all irrelevant. Because there is no life After the Bar.

Call a Doctor

So the oldest two ducklings and the youngest two cousins decided to play doctor. After some discussion, it became apparent that they all wished to be the doctor.

I obligingly volunteered to be the patient, and lay down upon the couch, coughing piteously. (The effect was enhanced when the twins came and sat on my chest.)

Whereupon the four doctors fetched four sheets of paper and four pencils and started peppering me with demographic questions: "How old are you?" "What is your name?" "What is your address?"

By the time the forms were filled out, they had lost interest in the game.

Clearly, they have mastered the key concepts of modern medicine.

Linking

Brandywine Books has a comment on how the whole "dragons are really good, just misunderstood" theme has been done to death. Which makes me think that there must be other supposed "twists" that have long since ceased to be twisty and have just become dull. The "spunky-girl-rebelling-against-female-stereotypes" comes to mind. What are your nominees for "twists" that have long passed their sell-by date?

Thanks to the way our brains transfer the difficulty of completing a task to the underlying subject matter, it is just as boosting to one's confidence on taking an exam to think of a few reasons why one will pass, or many, many reasons why one will fail. (After all, if it's hard to come up with so many reasons against it--it must not be so likely after all.) Similarly, spouses have greater marital satisfaction after thinking of a few reasons why they like their spouse, or a whole lot of reasons why they don't. That ought to make for some fun marital counseling sessions. So, to DOB: I'm sure I'd have a hard time coming up with twenty things I didn't like about you.

Miscellaneous

The Bar Exam is This Month.

We have had the warmest January on record, by half a degree. Apparently the rest of the world is cold and snowy, though. Sorry, folks. If it's any comfort, we've only had a few glimpses of sunshine.

Last night there was a need for an emergency bath, and to my distress I discovered the bathtub was completely plugged. I knew I should have been keeping it cleaner. I sponged off the child in question, removed the drain, and proceeded with a round of baking soda, vinegar, and boiling water--another round--another. Nothing went down at all. I poked with a hanger. Nothing.

DOB went out this morning and bought Drano. I poured the whole bottle down the drain. Nothing moved, although the chunks of goo from the night before dissolved. Finally His Majesty brought home a plumbing snake, tried to force it down, noticed a completely solid barrier . . . and flipped the drain plug switch.

DOB and I are applying to work for the census while DOB awaits Bar results. Um, that's infiltrate the Census Bureau, since everyone we know thinks the Census is evil and intrusive. But we hope they pay us for infiltrating.

I got a perfect score on the initial test (we'll next try to get approved as supervisors). Good thing they didn't test plumbing maintenance.

At the dinner we attended the other night (for which I felt properly attired), a judge recounted various amusing stories from his legal career. One was of a threatening letter sent from one lawyer to another: "If this case goes to court, we will go for the juggler!" To which the other firm replied, "Well, if *you* go for the juggler, we'll go for the magician *and* the dancing bear."

He also said that a judge in the county--but not him--had instructed the jury to retire and consider their verdict "in the guilty room."

The twins have discovered books. Rather too enthusiastically. Indeed, if he's not heading outside, D4 wants to sit in my lap and read. It doesn't take much plot to entertain him: "Car! Car! Animals! Apple! Car! Car!" (Skip all the other pages, begin again, with even more enthusiasm.) D3 prefers *The Carrot Seed* and *Goodnight Moon* and such with at least a glimmer of plot. D1 and D2 fortunately enjoy reading to them. It's a great symbiotic relationship, except that they can no longer agree on whose books are whose.

Medley

If I could just get clothes straight from my mind into reality, I might enjoy acquiring them. This Friday we are attending the annual dinner of the local bar association; I guess I could wear a suit, but it seemed like something a little dressier would be nice. But what? In my mind I picture something that Audrey Hepburn, or at least Katherine Hepburn would wear. Apparently we don't shop at the same stores, though, and I'm left wondering if there is anything decent and dressy in the world that doesn't scream Mother of the Bride, a position I refuse to assume for at least another fifteen years. And in a color other than black. I hate black. (Although, admittedly, it is a color seldom worn by MOTB.)

I finally had to give in to some black, though. Black velvet skirt, black top, gold silk jacket. Black mary-jane ballet shoes because I refuse to sprain my ankles for the sake of looking elegant. I hope it doesn't look too ancient.

There is also the challenge of clothing DOB, which wouldn't be hard except that all his pants have shrunk in the three months since we arrived. This may be due to his ability to walk regularly without injury on the soft ground resulting in increased lower body strength, or it might just be to getting fed three meals a day instead of having two of them left to his own discretion. Anyway, he's assumed nearly normal dimensions and all of his very skinny clothes are suddenly too skinny. I tried letting out a disfavored pair of slacks and tomorrow I shall boldly undertake the suit itself. Fortunately men's dress slacks are designed to be let out and the operation is considerably simpler than I had imagined. If only I could sew a straight seam.

I have also started trying to play the piano for the church we have been attending. I use "trying" advisedly, as the piano in question (the sort sent to old community halls to die) is not one from which a tune can be coaxed. It only produces tunes in response to imperious commands, and even then only about half the time. Some have suggested I try playing the organ instead--well, the organ currently there is equally distressing, but there are a lot of good organs looking for somewhere to be donated to. Naturally me playing anything is an interesting operation, as D4 especially objects to me doing anything at all with my life besides following him around while he explores the world at large.

Letter of the Law

One of my strict rules about breakfast is that Protein Must Be Eaten, because I want us all to stay alive until lunchtime. So there will be eggs (except when we have cheese toast) and you will eat your eggs before you get your fruit.

Today the twins were questioning this rule.

D4: Nana!
QOC: Your eggs have to be all gone.
D4: (Places egg on table instead of high chair tray.) Nana!
DOB: You have to put your eggs in your mouth.
D3: (Stuffs eggs in mouth) NmphNmph!
DOB: (starts to fix banana for D3, looks back and sees that she is spitting the eggs back out into her bib) And you have to KEEP them in your mouth.

When D1 was on the way, some teenagers speculated that it would be a terrible fate for her having two lawyers for parents--she'd never get away with anything. What they didn't realize was how quickly the relevant skills materialize.

7 Quick Takes Friday

Because this blog feels sorely neglected . . .

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1. DOB has entered the essay-writing stage of bar preparations and is trying to get his wrists in shape for twenty-four essays in three days. I watch over his shoulder and hope and pray the state bar changes the rules on inactive status so I don't have to take it this summer. It's not all gone, though. I don't remember a blessed thing about Commercial Paper (I don't even remember what it is!) but I knew about the Dormant Commerce Clause without skipping a beat.

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2. DOB invented a great game with giant balls--the downhill people try to throw them onto the driveway, and the driveway people try to get them all down the hill at once. This was followed by Giant Ball Golf, which is much the same as Frisbee Golf. Yes, it rains every day here, but not all day. And when it doesn't, out we go.

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3. Two great card games: Killer Bunnies and the Quest for the Magic Carrot (a game I have yet to win, but it's great fun anyway) and Illuminati. Both require a slightly twisted sense of humor to enjoy. In Killer Bunnies, you try to keep your bunnies alive, slay everyone else's, and collect enough carrots to have the Magic Carrot at the end. In Illuminati, you are a secret power group trying to gain control over various subsidiary groups and their money and power.

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4. D2 has started teaching himself to read, which is most unfair. Perhaps the twins will wait long enough for me to teach them. He goes about it the opposite way from D1, though. She memorizes the book first, then figures out the words, then works out how they are put together. He spends his days analyzing sounds and rules and blurts out things in the middle of church: "Hey! Is that a silent 'E'?"

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5. Have I ever mentioned the virtue of bread pudding as a breakfast food? I butter a 9x13 pan and fill it with crumbled up bread of any variety: plain, sweet, biscuits, cornbread. Sprinkle with cinnamon sugar and raisins. Mix up four or five eggs in a quart measuring cup and add milk until full; pour over the top. Bake it at 350 for forty-five minutes. Mix it up the night before, slip it in the oven before the kids get up, breakfast is ready to go.

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6. The older two have started going to AWANA with Their Majesties (who run the show). They came home Tuesday night and D1 was bouncing around the room chattering about everything while D2 sat on the couch with a dazed expression on his face. You could take a picture and caption it: "Which child is the introvert?"

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7. I'm finally starting to see some improvement from exercise in being able to walk a mile without getting winded and not being completely wiped out by ten in the morning. Hurrah!

More Quick Takes at Conversion Diary.

Some Exciting Things We've Been Doing Lately

Probably the most exciting was deciding to have a hot-dog roast last Thursday night.

Now, keep a few essential facts in mind:

1) It's January.
2) It's dark long before supper time.
3) The twins are eighteen months old.
4) The relevant bonfire was selected for proximity to brush-generating locations, not proximity or ease of access from house.

Nonetheless, when DOB discovered His Majesty taking advantage of a lull in the rain to burn a couple piles of brush, he proposed the adventure. After all, I was making beans for supper already--just add hot dogs to that, transport it all up the side of a hill laced with flower stakes, slippery steps, and tomato cages, serve it in the dark out of a wheelbarrow, and there you are. Well, why not?

After a few trips to carry the non-fragile items, like mustard and plastic bowls, I felt I had the route down enough to transport the more perilous items, like toddlers and boiling pots of beans. Not simultaneously. The only error we made were forgetting a flashlight and napkins, and leaving the outside house lights on, thus resulting in several minutes of readjusting to the darkness every time we actually stepped into the area that was hard for walking.

It took a while to convince the babies that we were actually eating in this strange setting, but after a few episodes of poking hot dog fragments in their mouth they finally figured out what was going on and responded accordingly. D2, as he always does, felt the call of nature five minutes into the meal, but fortunately nature was close at hand, though the encounter with brambles was perhaps a bit too close to nature.

The fire had been burning for awhile and close to it the air was positively cozy--though it wasn't really that cold anywhere.

My admiration for Ma Ingalls grew by another leap, although as I washed up afterwards and noted the advantage of not needing to wipe up a table or floor, I saw that the rustic life was not all negatives. But then, we had it easy. It didn't start to pour rain until five minutes after we had hauled everything back inside.

D3 still has mustard on her jacket. Her Majesty prudently was spending the evening in jail (leading Bible studies, for the record), so she missed the excitement.

Come to think of it, that's enough excitement for one blog post.

Duckling Moments

D2: I can make biscuits all by myself! I just need biscuit dough and someone to do the oven 'cause I can't do the oven.

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D3 was very unhappily refusing to go play after supper, yet not sitting contentedly in any laps, either. DOB led her away from the table and insisted she go play. She refused again. Then, suddenly, she saw D2 zoom by on her four-wheeler. "MY BIKE!" she screamed and ran off.

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I was looking at a list of the Top 100 Picture Books and realized, with slight sadness, that D1 and D2 are starting to outgrow picture books. There are still many on the list they enjoy, but although their own selections are technically from the picture book section, they're usually long illustrated fairy tales or non-fiction. The ones where the story moves on every other sentence, that used to be necessary to keep their attention, now are too fast.

Surely one of these days the twins will figure out that you have to turn the pages in order to read a book, and then we can begin again.

Exploit the Day

I have often bemoaned my inability to play strategic games. I can't see all those moves ahead to see how everything will work out. I lack the ability to forecast what moves my opponents will make. So I always feel trapped, and therefore play halfheartedly.

A couple of weeks ago we were discussing this in anticipation of a game night and DOB said, "Don't try to do something you can't do. Just do what you're good at. Play to your own strengths." Well, what can I do in a strategic game? I can't assess the far future, but I am pretty good at taking in the current turn. I'm good at noticing where other people need to be blocked, and how to get the most power (money, land, whatever the goal is) available on this turn.

So I played that way, exploiting the opportunities I could find and thwarting others when I could. And I won. Turns out that playing the best for the moment works pretty good in the long haul--certainly much better than panicking or giving up.

Now to apply that lesson to real life. It's easy for me to feel panicky or lost right now. Everything is hanging on the bar exam, and towards that I can do nothing except keep the children quiet (and on that score my success is limited). After that, who knows? I don't know whether I'll have to take the bar next; I don't know when or how DOB will get a job; I'm not sure whether I will find work or how much; I don't know when we'll have our "own" place again or for how long; and even small goals are closed down by the twins, who have a radar for determining when parents are doing something interesting and productive so they can promptly interrupt.

The long range is beyond my knowledge. I have to exploit this turn. Today. It will probably come in handy to have educated, well-trained children, so I should take advantage of them wanting to do school and help with the dishes. I could certainly use extra energy and strength whatever comes, so doing another day's exercise is a good idea. Everyone needs fed, everyone needs a conversation, everyone needs sleep. DOB needs quiet to study and it's not raining at the moment, so why not go outside?

Someday, maybe the board will open up and I'll see where this is going. The twins have hit that eighteen-month point where their ability to play and talk takes off, and I begin to see light at the end of the toddler tunnel. The bar exam will be over in seven weeks and one day, and then it will be time to assess what to do next. Right now, I've got this turn to play.

Do You Hear What I Hear?

The cousins have had a tradition for the past few years of staging their own Christmas pageant involving a lot of costume changes. With the addition of D1 and D2 we were able to cut the costume changes down to one each.

We tried to persuade the twins to participate as sheep, but although they once offstage put the sheep hats on and said, "Baa," when it came right to it they refused. D4 did manage to scream on cue at the line, "and she brought forth her firstborn son." The dog was also supposed to be a sheep, but refused to come with the shepherds. However, both she and D4 decided to go on with the wisemen.

There's something iconic about children in a Christmas pageant. They forget their lines, they stare the wrong direction, they're wearing bedsheets and old towels. And they are the conduits of deep mysteries.

The Year in Review

Borrowed from The Common Room

1. What did you do in 2009 that you'd never done before?

Drove across the northern Plain states.

2. Did you keep your new year's resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

I don't think so. I have a deep aversion to the whole New Improved Shiny Me thing, as it rarely involves permanent character development and generally instead involves looking better to everyone else.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth or get pregnant?

Quite a few of them. But not me, hurrah!

4. Did anyone close to you get married?

Not that they told me about.

5. Did anyone close to you die?

My uncle, which may or may not count as close enough.

6. Travel?

Oh my yes. West Virginia in February, and then the Great Trip.

7. Did you move anywhere?

From Ohio to Washington.

8. What was the best month?

The first six months of the year where rather steadily dull; the last six months were all highs and lows. I don't think I could pick one as being a real best, although the trip itself makes October stand out.

9. What would you like to have in 2009 that you lacked in 2008?

Patience. (Spare me the jokes, please.)

10. What date(s) from 2009 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

June 29, the day we decided to move. October 10, the day we left, and October 22, the day we arrived.

11. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Keeping myself and those dependent on me alive.

12. What was your biggest failure?

Losing my cool and perspective and being unwilling to live in acceptance of the moment instead of impatiently insisting that everything be sorted out right now. (Um, this is more of an ongoing one.)

13. Did you suffer illness or injury?

Just general exhaustion.

14. What was the best thing you bought?

Most of my achievements of the year would be the things I cleverly managed to avoid buying, such as by resurrecting old computers.

15. Whose behavior merited celebration?

The kids', for taking their parents' insanity in stride and handling massive upheaval without complaint; DOB's, for being brave enough to try new things; and the family and friends who made it all possible, most especially Their Majesties.

16. Whose behavior made you appalled and/or depressed?

Pretty much anything that was in the news all year, which is why I tried to ignore it.

17. Where did most of your money go?

If one only knew . . .

18. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

Moving back home, reexamining life.

19. What song will always remind you of 2009?

Long, Long Journey

20. Compared to this time last year, are you:
i. happier or sadder?
ii. richer or poorer?

i. Happier, I think, but things are still settling themselves out.

ii. Poorer for the present.

21. What do you wish you'd done more of?

I think I've done enough, thanks.

22. What do you wish you'd done less of?

Changing dirty diapers. I really think one per child per day ought to be enough.

23. How will you be spending New Year's Eve/Day?

We will probably have a small celebration with the older ducklings that ends by 9 p.m. and go to bed early. New Year's Day we have a wedding to attend.

24. What was an unexpected surprise?

Everything. I am easily surprised.

25. Did you fall in love in 2009?

Surely I've done enough in that department, too.

26. What was the best concert you've been to this year?

The cousins singing "Let All Things Now Living" on Thanksgiving.

27. What was your favorite TV program?

Jeeves and Wooster. It's my favorite TV program every year!

28. Do you dislike anyone now that you didn't dislike this time last year?

It takes a lot for me to dislike someone. No one has worked hard enough at it lately.

29. What was the best book you read?

I wish I kept better track of them. (Perhaps that is what I should have done more of.)

30. What was your greatest musical discovery?

The effect a quiet CD has on getting four children to sleep in the same room.

31. What did you want and get?

The chance to be with my family-of-origin. Adventure and excitement. Children who all sleep through the night.

32. What did you want and not get?

Finding a way to bridge the gap between what I like to do and what I have to do.

33. What was your favorite film of this year?

I'm tempted to say Hogfather. So I think I will.

34. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I was 31, and since it was Thanksgiving, I spent most of the day chopping vegetables.

35. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

DOB already having new work.

36. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2009?

Can I still button it?

37. What kept you sane?

Reading and taking walks for as long as I could.

38. What political issue stirred you the most?

The incredible undying stupidity of Congress on every issue has stirred me so much already that nothing is left in the pot.

39. Who did you miss?

Friends and family from Cincinnati.

40. Random Memories from 2009?

An overambitious but fun garden; the pristine if almost unfriendly beauty of a house ready for the market; babies turning into toddlers like an invasion of the infantry; D1 learning to read and D2 following close behind; plains, rivers, forests, mountains, snow, rain, sun.